Fresh Air - A centennial celebration of John Coltrane

Episode Date: September 1, 2026

Coltrane was one of the most influential musicians in the history of jazz, from his beautiful ballads, to his more spiritual music, and his role in the forefront of free jazz. September 23 marks 100 years since his birth. We speak with his son Ravi Coltrane, who is a highly regarded tenor saxophonist—the same instrument his father played. Growing up, he was just known as Ravi, "But as soon as I picked up the saxophone I was suddenly John Coltrane's son,” he tells Terry Gross. Ravi edited a new book of photographs of his father.Later we’ll hear drummer Elvin Jones describe performing and recording with John Coltrane, in a 1998 interview from our archive.See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for sponsorship and to manage your podcast sponsorship preferences.NPR Privacy Policy

This is fresh air. I'm Terry Gross. The jazz saxophonist and composer John Coltrane was born 100 years ago. The centennial is September 23rd, and the celebration includes concerts, album reissues, and a new book of Coltrane photos edited by my guest Ravi Coltrane, the son of John and Alice Coltrane. Ravi is a highly regarded tenor saxophone player and composer who is recorded as a leader and in other bands. The book is titled Coltrane, the definitive visual celebration of the legend, and it includes an introduction by Ravi and several essays, including ones by Patty Smith, Carlos Santana, Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, and Phil Lesh. The Coltrane family is organizing some of the centennial events and overseeing the estates of Ravi's parents, John and Alice Coltrane. John Coltrane is one of the most influential musicians in the history of jazz. He was famous for his early recordings in Miles Davis's band, his transcendent ballads from the Great American Songbook, his modal music, his spiritual music, for popularizing the soprano saxophone in jazz with his recording of my favorite

things, and for avant-garde free jazz like no one had heard before. To quote with the late jazz critic Francis Davis wrote in the New York Times, full disclosure, Francis was my husband. Coltrane has come to stand for a disciplined mindset, a desire for spiritual ecstasy, see, a vision of music as ritual and of performance as a holy right. That's R-I-T-E. Depending on what a listener wants from it, Coltrane's music is a cry for Black liberation, the soundtrack of a spiritual quest, a backdrop for tripping, or the next evolutionary step for jazz after bebop, unquote. Alice Coltrane, Robbie's mother, was a pianist and harpist who played on John's final albums, recorded many albums under her own name, turned to Vedanta spirituality, and founded an

ashram in L.A. Ravi Coulthrain, welcome to Fresh Air. Congratulations on the book. I want to start with something from your father's ballads album, because I just think that album is gorgeous and so beautiful that it sounds a little spiritual to me, because it sounds kind of transcendent. Yes, absolutely. do you see this album's fitting into your father's body of work before we hear a song from it? Well, first of all, thank you, Terry, for the invitation. It's an honor and pleasure to be speaking with you. It's a pleasure to have you. And yes, I think that album, it really displays his tone, his sound. And I think that, in fact, all of the songs are very beautiful, his interpretation of them, sonically, I mean, I think that's, It's really where the record really gets its power from. His tone alone, you won't hear a saxophone, a tenor saxophone sound,

quite this beautiful on any recording. It's something to marvel at. It has this uplift to it. I don't mean that it's uplifting, but his tone always sounds like it's kind of rising. Yes, it carries us. It carries the listener, really. So let's hear you don't know what love is from John Coltrane's ballads out. So that was from John Coltrane's ballads album, and we heard Elvin Jones on drums, McCoy Tynor piano, and Jimmy Garrison bass. So you just edited a collection of photos of your father, and there were a lot of iconic photos in there. You've looked at photos of him throughout your life. Do you look at his photos in the hopes of finding out more about who he was, but also who you are?

And do you ever look at his photos and then look at your face in the mirror and see, like, if you can tell that you're his son? Well, I've been told throughout my life how much I favor my father. And, you know, at this point, I've outlived my father about 20 years. You know, he passed away at 40. I turned 61 this year. and I think especially with this photo book it was a real opportunity for me to you know not only

seeing these iconic photographs that we all know but but I mean seeing a brand new photograph for the first time it's enlightening and elevating you know some people thought of Coltrane as having

of being devoid himself. And there was actually, I'm not sure if it still exists or not. There was a Coltrane church in San Francisco called St. John's. Yeah, St. John and Divine. Yeah, and the John was for John Coltrane. And there was even like a painting in the church of Coltrane as if it was like one of those. Apostles.

Yeah. And, you know, they played his music during the service. And he was kind of like worshipped. And that's, it's, you know, it's fascinating, a little strange. But what's it like for you to have your father literally be worshipped? I mean, like, he was your dad. You might not have known him. But, you know, he was like a mortal with an exceptional talent.

You put it right there on that. He was one of us. Yes. This is the thing where people want to, well, if they don't recognize. in fact. They say, oh, he was from another world, from another planet.

It's like, no, he was from North Carolina. You know, he's as human as all of us. But he represents the highest, heights and possibilities of human achievement. He's still doing this as a human being.

So I want to play another recording by your father. And this record, the album is titled, Ascension. And here's my story behind it. So, first of all, this is one of the most radical albums in jazz history, a turning point in free jazz. It's also one of the first jazz albums I bought.

Wow. Yeah. So I was living in Brooklyn, and I was on a summer break from out-of-town college, and I was working on Wall Street as a typist. Wow. But I had just started listening to jazz, and I wanted to buy jazz albums, but I hardly had any money. So I was working on Wall Street, and it was near JNR Records, which is a great record store. So on lunch, I'd sometimes go to the record store and look for, like, discounted records. And I knew Coltrane's name.

I didn't really know his music at the time. And I saw Ascension, so I bought it. It must have been like on sale, I don't know. But I got home. I put the needle down on the vinyl recording, because that's all there was was vinyl. and this is what I heard. So I have to say, the more I listen to that, the more I hear patterns and get a sense of cohesion. But when I first put that on, I thought, what is this?

And I didn't know what to make of it. Were the musicians expressing anger? Was it called ascension as in Christ ascending or as the souls of the dead ascending? Was it expressing existential pain? Were the musicians hi? Was it a bad trip or a good trip? And I was afraid to listen to it, hi, myself. I thought, who knows, what I'm going to be feeling?

Yeah, where they end up. Yeah. What did you hear the first time you heard this? Do you remember? Well, yes, I think what you experienced, I think is probably what most people experienced when they first hear that music. You know, what is this,

and what's going on. Maybe the second feeling is like, yeah, it's actually entering my body in some way. I'm reacting to this, either positively or negatively, there's something that's stirring there. And it's like diving into cold water, you know what I mean?

For as shockings, it might be initially you get used to it at some point. And as a gateway record, I mean, not a lot of people choose Ascension to start, you know, learning about John Coltrane's music. That was quite a bunch of you. No, I just did it because I saw his name. I knew he was important.

But, you know, one of the things with your father is that, like, for example, like, he took really long solos. And he could pull it off. But he set this kind of new opening for other people to take really long solos, who didn't really have much to say me. Musically. And I've sat through many jazz concerts where the editor in me kept thinking like, you could have cut this down from like 10 minutes to two and it would have been fine.

Yes, yes. Not everyone can go on that journey and take the audience and the listener along with them and continue to explore and expand. But the great, great improvisers, the great solos, the great visionaries in music could. And John Coltrane clearly was one of those types of creators and improvisers. There's a very famous recording from a club called The Half Note that was on Spring in Broome here in Manhattan. From 1965, John plays a 27-minute saxophone solo. And throughout he never repeats himself. He's building from one idea to the next

and one motive to the next and expanding these motives and ideas and the most organic way that the ear is following, the band is following and things continue to build and grow for 28 minutes. I mean that's really something. Most musicians don't have 28 seconds worth of new ideas. in them within a solo, you know.

What are your thoughts with your own playing about how long a solo should be either in performance or on record? Yeah, about 28 seconds. I think that's fair. How did your parents meet? My parents met at Birdland. My parents met right here in New York City,

the original Birdland when it was on 52nd Street and Broadway. There was, they used to do double bill, bills. Then, you know, one band would play 45 minutes. They'd get off. A comedian or a poet, spoken word artist would get up and he or she would speak until the next band was ready to play. And then that next band would play for 45 minutes, and they would just keep doing that throughout the evening, as long as people were in the club. So for a week, the John Coltrane Quartet played a double bill with Terry Gibbs.

Oh, and your mother was on the band? My mother was in the band. Yeah, so they met that week at Berlin, 1963. So did they hit it off right away, your parents? Yes, they did. That week at Berlin, they were, you know, John was an introspective and kind of intuitive person who didn't lead with his words. He led with his intentions, musical intentions. And I think my mother was also quiet, you know.

You could say shy, but I think I would say quiet, you know. They both were, I think, at very similar temperaments, you know. And so there wasn't a whole lot of words exchanged, but at some point my mother realized that my father was serenading her and following her around the club with his horn, you know, when he was not on the stage. He didn't really take his horn out of his mouth. He would play the set, and then he would go back to the dress room

and continue playing. He never stopped playing. But she did realize that he was serenading her in between the sets. And she said the song he would often play was a song called Always. Irving Burlinta. I'll be loving you always with a love that's true.

Always, yeah. It's beautiful. It's sentimental in Hokie, but beautiful. And I think my mother understood the sentiment. She gave up music to devote herself to her spiritual work and to her own, you know, devotional practices. But you convinced her to go back to the studio a few years before she died. And you recorded an album with her called Translinear Light. What did it take to convince her to record with you?

Well, I think 1979 was when my mom finished her contract with Warner Brothers. She was signed to ABC Records, which is Impulse Records. And then through the 70s, she made a bunch of records for Warner Brothers. But when that contract ended, she never signed another one again. And I think that was her time, you know, where she said, I'm going to shift here and moved completely into the spiritual path. and the only music that was made was devotional music. Yet, at the same time, she still was a great, great pianist.

And I would play gigs in L.A. when I started working with my own bands, and my mom would come to the gig, and I'd say, Mom, yeah, play one of this. And she'd get up there and burn. She'd sound just great. And people would say, you know, if your mom could play like that, why didn't she just do that all the time? And, you know, when I would ask her, she'd say, no, that was my past. The young people now, that's your time now to play this music. So I had to start begging, you know.

I said, you know, just let's go into the studio. Just let's record a few tracks, you know. And that's really how that record came about, just me conjoint her, you know. I'd go on the road and for as many people who were admired. and followers of John Coltrane, there were as many, if not more, who were following Alice. So let's hear the title track of Translinear Light, composed by Alice Coltrane, featuring Alice at the piano and my guest, Ravi Coltrane on soprano saxophone. That was my guest, Ravi Coltrane on soprano saxophone with his mother, Alice Coltrane, on piano from, it's the title track of their album together, Translinear Light.

Well, we need to take another break here, so I'm going to reintroduce you. If you're just joining us, my guest is Ravi Coltrane. He's a jazz composer and tenor saxophonist and the son of John and Alice Coltrane. Ravi edited the new collection of photos of his late father titled Coltrane, the definitive visual celebration of the legend. We'll talk more after a short break. I'm Terry Gross, and this is Fresh Air. This is Fresh Air.

gross. Let's get back to my interview with Ravi Coltrane. He's a jazz composer and tenor saxophonist and the son of musicians John and Alice Coltrane. John was one of the most influential and groundbreaking musicians in jazz history. The centennial of his birth is September 23rd. As part of the celebration, Ravi edited a new book of John Coltrane photos titled Coltrane, the definitive visual celebration of the legend. So I want to ask you something that I know as a turning point in your life, because of a tragedy, your older brother, John, died in a car crash. Mm-hmm. John Jr.

Yeah, John Jr. This was 1982. You were in high school. Mm-hmm. Do you remember how you heard the news? Oh, yes, yes, yes. Yeah, I remember that day. We'll always remember that day. He passed away on my birthday, essentially. It was August. Six, 1988. That's the day I turned 17. And if he had lived a few weeks longer, he would have turned 18 on August 26.

Actually, today is the anniversary. His birthday. Yeah, we're recording this on August 26. Yeah, it was a real shock to the system when we lost John Jr. And it really, you know, you kind of suddenly wake up and realize that life is can be heartbreaking, you know. And events like that completely reshape you, you know. My mother was widowed at 30, you know, with four kids

and to lose her husband and then to lose their first son together. 17 years later, you know, it was not easy, not easy. How did your brother's death change your relationship to the future, knowing that your brother no longer had a feeling? future. Did you feel like you had to live life while you still could? Did you question whether you could die too? Did you feel like your mortality in a way that you'd never thought of it before? Absolutely. Yes. You start reevaluating things. You start evaluating things maybe is a better way to put it in a way that you've never needed to do before. You know, the exitential

questions, you know, what was the meaning of his life? What's the meaning of my? life. I mean, we could all literally be gone tomorrow, you know. It effectively ended my childhood, you know, and it was suddenly time to think about other things, you know, more important things. It's a lot to ponder when you're 17. Yeah, but probably a good time for it, you know, if those questions never came up before, you know. Where did music fit in in that part of your life after your brother's death?

You know, I took a very long pause, you know, after John Jr. passed away. What do you mean by a long pause? Everything kind of stopped. I had been playing the clarinet. I started playing Clarenet junior high school, and I was playing in the marching band when my brother was on the football team. But after he passed away, everything stopped. for me. I took the GED. I couldn't be in school anymore. I just, and I kind of isolated myself.

It had been about three years, you know. When John died, there was definitely a void. You know, there was something in my life that needed to be filled. And music filled that void for me, you know. And it was primarily my father's recordings. You know, I think that was the first time that I really started to connect with the music on a more emotional level, that's spiritual level, I suppose, as well. But it started to speak to me in a way that I hadn't recognized before. So when you came out the other end of the pause, where were you?

Like, what was your next step to creating the next chapter of your life? I think it was music. You know, I think music was that suddenly this thing that I could pursue and that there was some obsession behind it, you know, and love behind it and curiosity behind it. And it was something, yeah, to really, to go after. Is that when you switch from clarinet to saxophone?

Yes, yeah. And was that because you didn't hear a lot of clarinet and jazz bands? Well, the saxophone was a pretty cool instrument. No offense to the clarinet. Right. The clarinet's a beautiful instrument. It's still one of my favorite woodwinds. If I go to the symphony or something, my ears are kind of constantly

pulled by the woodwind section. Flutes and clarinets, I think, are... Yeah, well, you mentioned symphony. You considered becoming a classical clarinetist. Well, I mean, before the jazz bug, you know, but hit me, you know, before that calling, came to me, yeah, I would have been very content to have just continued playing clarinet for the rest of my life. Did classical training help in playing jazz once you turned more toward jazz?

Well, starting on the clarinet, I mean, it's a very difficult woodwind instrument compared to a saxophone. So just playing the clarinet, it's great preparation for being a saxophonist. So Elvin Jont, who was in your father's quartet and was a... a really brilliant drummer. He called you when you were still, I think still in your teens? No, I was still studying. I was still in school, so I was in my early 20s.

And he suggested that you'd join him on the road and perform with his band. What was your response to that? I said no. Because? Well, I was not ready. I was still learning. I was still in school.

You know, I basically, yeah, I just picked up the horn. I was still learning. You know, I told him I wasn't ready, and then I was, you know, I was still studying. He said, well, I want to help you get ready. So I agreed, yes. I couldn't say no twice to Elvin Jones

is offered to bring me on the road and let me play in his band. It was life-changing for me. So you didn't feel ready, but when you were playing with him, did you feel like you were holding your own were you thinking like I really am not ready

I shouldn't have agreed to do this Well that's the thing You know it was an experience of a lifetime I mean the first Tours that I did in Europe I mean the first tour I did with Elvin Jones Was 1991 spring Of 91 it was two months

Two months of one-nighters And that same year we came back In the summer and did another month I mean to watch him Play every night to listen to him as a band leader to see how he conducted himself on the stage and off the stage. It was, these are the most powerful lessons that I learned in my young life as a musician, you know, whether I was ready to be on the stage or not with him.

So when you became a jazz musician and you're playing with Elvin Jones, who's a legend unto himself, and who played with your father and your father's quartet, and your father obviously was a legend. Did you feel the pressure of being John Coltrane's son? I mean, picking up the saxophone, there's going to be a certain amount of pressure for anyone for your last name is Coltrane. Yeah, I mean, the pressure can be internal or external

because I did grow up very much Ravi. That was who I was growing up. But as soon as I picked up the saxophone, suddenly I was John Coltrane's son, So as I kind of was moving through that early stage of my life as a musician, I was very aware that people were aware. Was it hard to figure out who you were as a musician since you had been so steeped in your father's music? So, like, you couldn't really escape it. And you didn't define yourself like in opposition to your father,

like you weren't playing radically different music. You weren't playing like punk rock or something. You know what I mean? That would have been like totally different. For the sake of being different, no, no. I mean, the reason why we play is because we hear something that compels us, it draws us in. You know, and John Coltrane's music drew me in. I mean, I'm not the first to be captivated and compelled by the sound of his saxophone,

you know, by the power of his intention and musical invention, you know, that it's a powerful sound putting on a John Colchern record, you know, you say what is that? And then you say, I want to do that, you know. I would like you to choose a recording of your own to play. Let's see. Well, there's a track written by Charlie Hayden called Four Territory. Charlie wrote this song from my mother, Alice. Her spiritual name was Tria. And Charlie wrote this song in the 70s and recorded it with my mother on an album.

I think the album was called Closeness. It was an album of duets. And it went on to be one of his most popular compositions. I think he recorded it with many other musicians. And I played it with Charlie many times. many times when I was at Cal Arts in the 80s. But after my mother passed away, I asked Charlie if we could record the piece

with a young harpist named Brandy Younger, who was unknown at the time. I'd like to take credit for discovering her, and she's a big superstar now. But we recorded Charlie's song Forterea, and I think it was the first time that a harpist had played it since my mother had recorded it with Charlie in the 70s.

So let's hear it. This is Forteeria. from Ravi Coltrane's album, Blending Times. That was Forterea from Ravi Coltrane's album, Blending Times. Well, Ravi, good luck with all the centennial celebrations. I know it's a lot of planning. Good luck with your new book. And, you know, thank you for coming on fresh air.

Thank you, Terry. It was, again, an honor and a pleasure to speak with you today. Thank you so much. Ravi Coltrane's new book of John Coltrane photos is titled Coltrane, the definitive visual celebration of the legend. The centennial of John Coltrane's birth is September 23rd. After we take a short break, we'll hear drummer Elvin Jones describe what it was like to record and perform with Coltrane.

We'll hear an excerpt of our 1998 interview. This is Fresh Air. This is Fresh Air. In the interview we just heard with John Coltrane's son Ravi Coltrane, He talked about Elvin Jones, who was John's drummer from 1960 to 66, and became a mentor to Ravi. Now we're going to hear an interview from our archive with Elvin Jones talking about playing with John Coltrane. To quote the late jazz critic Francis Davis again, Jones was the drummer most crucial to the evolution of jazz in the period following Bob,

and you feel sorry for the generations who will know him only from his recordings denied the thrill of watching him in action. unquote. Elvin Jones died in 2004 at the age of 76. I spoke with him in 1998. Since the Village Vanguard recordings that you made with John Coltrane in 1961 have just been reissued, why don't I play something from that? I think we'll hear spiritual, which is a Coltrane piece inspired, I believe, by a spiritual. I grew up in the church, you know, and my father was a deacon in the Baptist Church. In the Baptist Church. I think Coltrane's grandfather and mother,

he grew up in almost the same kind of atmosphere that I did. So spiritual is something that is very deeply ingrained in our character. And spiritual, to me, brings memories of my father. On the Wednesday's prayer meetings we used to have in church, where he would get down on his knees and pray for hours. And you could feel, you know, even if you couldn't hear it or understand all of the words that he was saying, you could certainly feel it. And that's what when John Coltrane played a song, Spiritual,

that's the kind of feeling that he invoked in me. and I suppose a lot of people who had the experience enough to understand what it was he was saying. I'm wondering if you're drumming in the opening of Spiritual, as recorded at the Vanguard, was composed before, you know, was thought out beforehand

or if this is improvised? It was all improvised. We never had a rehearsal in the whole time that we were together. Not one time. Everything was improvised. As a matter of fact, I never really knew until I heard a downbeat exactly what it was we were going to play.

It was sort of like that. Once you started to play it, then we just sort of fell out and sort of rallied around the flag. And it came off like that. It's very unique. I've never had that kind of experience ever before. or since. Would John Coultering talk with you about the pieces? Like, for instance, he had a

composition in Alabama that he said was inspired by the tragedy when a church in Alabama was bombed and I think four girls were killed. Did he talk with you about that before the piece? Or did you know that the

piece was inspired by? No, no. He didn't say anything about it. Yeah, I think what you're referring to liner notes, I think, somebody who read me, that was an afterthought. That was an afterthought? At least as far as the general public is concerned.

I don't know what he thought in his own mind. I know what I thought in my own mind, and I thought that that melody sort of illustrated a lot of the things that a lot of people were feeling. And when I was playing that piece, The tears were coming from my eyes. Everybody in their group were including Coltrane. It was very sad.

We're listening to my 1998 interview with Elvin Jones, who was the drummer in John Coltrane's band from 1960 to 66. The centennial of Coltrane's birth is later this month. We'll hear more of the interview after a break. This is Fresh Air. This is fresh air. Today's show is devoted to John Coltrane and his son, tenor saxophonist Ravi Coltrane.

The centennial of John Coltrane's birth is September 23rd. Let's get back to my 1998 interview with Elvin Jones, who was the drummer and John Coltrane's band from 1960 to 66 and later was a mentor to Ravi. When John Coltrane's solo's got longer, and then your solo's got longer too, I wonder what it was like to accompany him in like, what, 40-minute solos? I mean, that's about the length of a whole set.

Yeah. I'll tell you, there was one occasion in Philadelphia, where you are now. You remember the showboat lounge? Yeah, that was a jazz club before I moved here, yeah. Anyway, we used to play there quite often in Peps Bar and all. and the blue note up in North Philly. The routine was on Saturday or Sunday afternoon. It would be a matinee.

And this particular matinee, John was playing a very fast tempo piece, and something happened to his horn. I guess pad fell out or whatever, you know. And he could barely get a tone out. It was just squeaks and squawks. And he wouldn't stop. And so he played until he finally got,

he finally started making scales out of all of these sounds that were coming out of his horn. And he played this piece for three hours. But the thing about it, When we finished, I was ready to play the next piece. I said, okay, what are we going to play next? And the matinee was over, you know? So you're talking about 40 minutes was not.

Sometimes the way that group was, the time didn't really have any significance. I didn't get tired. Nobody got tired. It was just to pursue. an idea or a mode up to its natural conclusion. And if it took an hour or 40 minutes or two hours or whatever, then that soapy it.

What about when the music of the group started moving away from time signatures and getting freer? As the drummer, how did you feel about that? Well, just like anything else, it really didn't matter. because that's what you refer to as an abstract. There was nothing stranger about being abstracts. Because I used to like going to a museum in Detroit. They had a lot of Jackson Pollock's paintings, you know,

and Matisse and Picasso and all these guys. That's all abstract. You know, I didn't think it was any different than anything else. It's just a musical abstract. But the portrait is there. Nevertheless. My interview with Elvin Jones was recorded in 1998. John Coltrane Centennial is September 23rd.

Jazz historian Kevin Whitehead will have an appreciation of Coltrane closer to that date. Tomorrow on Fresh Air, how big tech companies, including Google, Apple, and Microsoft, have been donating equipment, holding conferences, and are offering workshops for educators and students. So how much are they influencing how school children live? learn and what they learn. We'll talk with New York Times reporter Natasha Singer, author of the new book, Coding Kids, Big Tech's battle to remake the schools. I hope you'll join us. To keep up with what's on the show and get highlights of our interviews, follow us on Instagram at NPR Fresh Air. Fresh Air's executive producer is Sam Brigger. Our technical director and engineer is Audrey Bentham.

Our engineer today is Adam Stanishefsky. Our interviews and reviews are produced and edited. by Phyllis Myers, Anne Reh Boldenado, Lauren Crenzel, Teresa Madden, Monique Nazareth, Thea Chaloner, Susan Yucundi, Anna Bauman, and Nico Gonzalez Whistler. Our digital media producer is Molly C.V. Nesper. Roberta Shorak directs the show. Our co-host is Tanya Mosley. I'm Terry Gross.