With 1978’s Lanquidity, Sun Ra and His Arkestra Tried Their Hand at Funk on a Galactic Scale

For three of the album’s five tracks, drummer/percussionists Atakatune, Russell “Odun” Branch, Luqman Ali and Michael Anderson lay down simple grooves that are nothing if not accessible. Still, those grooves, as funky as they are, move along at a snail’s pace, as if the band members had all taken sedatives before hitting record. This effect is especially pronounced on the crawling, 11-minute album closer “There Are Other Worlds (They Have Not Told You Of).” By this point, Ra and company were no longer looking to shatter conventional notions of harmony and melody, as they had done so dramatically throughout the ‘60s. Nevertheless, Lanquidity showcases the band stretching song structure to the brink of formlessness—combine the “languid” and “liquid” qualities of the music, and the album title gives you an accurate sense of what you’re in for.

Meanwhile, Ra and the horn section—longtime mainstays John Gilmore, Eddie Gale, Danny Ray Thompson and current Arkestra bandleader Marshall Allen—apply sandpaper to the funky foundation in the form of dissonance both subtle and overt. On “When Pathways Meet,” Ra’s piano chords send stray notes jutting awkwardly (albeit intentionally) against the hummable, Ohio Players-meet-Henry Mancini/Peter Gunn melody that forms the main basis of the tune. On the gentle “Twin Stars of Thence,” standup bassist Richard Williams takes a succinct—again, funky—bassline and purposely stretches one note in the second half of the line so that it rings slightly out of tune, as Ra’s Fender Rhodes and electric guitars from Dale Williams and Mark Anthony sparkle in the foreground.

The dragging cadence and liberties with tunefulness give Lanquidity a sonic warpage through and through. But here it’s important to remember that this was an ensemble led by a composer who could arguably match the likes of Count Basie and Ellington/Strayhorn in sophistication. Prior to taking things “out” during the ‘60s, the Arkestra had long proven that it was capable of playing it “straight” with its own beautifying takes on big band swing, bebop, ragtime and other traditional jazz forms. If they were bending pitch and tempo, one has to presume they were doing it on purpose. And when whispers dart all over the stereo field before the familiar, resounding voice of June Tyson sings, “There are other worlds that wish to speak to you,” the band highlights its singular affinity for playing up the tension between elegance and chaos.

Sun Ra left behind a body of recorded music so vast that it requires an 850-page book to find your way through it. To date, there are well over 100 albums and countless 45 singles, many of which were self-released in limited-edition small runs. Much like the case of Frank Zappa, the sheer volume of material always begs the question, “Where does one even start?” Hardcore fans of both artists may hit each other over the head debating the answer, but the answer is actually quite simple: Just start somewhere. In this case, you don’t have to be a fan of Sun Ra, of jazz, of experimental music, or even of music in general. All you have to be is curious. Lanquidity is an album that both piques and rewards that curiosity while often presenting itself in the guise of fusion-tinged funk.

In other words, it’s as good a place as any to drop in on Sun Ra’s universe. The album represents yet another example where the Sun Ra Arkestra made music that matched the cosmological scale Ra aspired to communicate to the world. If Ra and company hadn’t been able to properly back up his ideas in sound, all the gestures to ancient Egypt and outer space, the costumes, etc., would have fallen flat. One could even make the argument that there are drawbacks to using ancient Egyptian civilization as a projection device for one’s own musings on the nature of the universe. Lanquidity, however, never descends into hokeyness. It still convinces because, like so much of Sun Ra’s work, it almost dares the listener, as if hidden in the whispers was a message: “Transcend thyself. Reach higher.“

Reissued once already in 2000, this new expanded edition of Lanquidity comes with an alternate mix of the entire album (which, admittedly, doesn’t sound all that different than the original). An oversized 12-page booklet with never-seen photos, however, along with recollections from some of the participants, makes for a handsome, worthwhile package for the dedicated and casual fan alike.

Saby Reyes-Kulkarni is a longtime contributor at Paste. He believes that a music journalist’s job is to guide readers to their own impressions of the music. He also dreams of being a “setlist doctor” to the bands you read about in these pages, and has started making playlists for imaginary shows that your favorite band never actually played. You can read his work, listen to his interviews and playlists at feedbackdef.com, and find him on Twitter.