The Mahavisnu Orchestra: John McLaughlin’s Immaculate Conception

In the spiritual world, next to meditation is music, the breath of music. Meditation is silence, energising and fulfilling. Silence is the eloquent expression of the inexpressible. After silence, that which comes closest to expressing the inexpressible is music.

Sri Chomery

“I am dealing,” says. Mahavishnu John McLaughlin,“ with the soul of music, my relationship with my own soul, my inner communion, the communion with my spiritual teacher (Sri Chomery), who represents the Divine Being. My primary concern is my inner peace and harmony — the music comes out as a result of this.”

He speaks with a very English brand of conviction, the type of conviction one might expect from, say, an English schoolmaster trying to instill in his students the spirit and brilliance of a Shakespeare or Keats. He smiles slightly when he is silent, but when he speaks, you can almost feel his body moving forward in an eloquent gesture to complement the words he is saying, his face radiating the expression he is trying to make. His verbal communication is similar to his musical communication; in both, he is concerned with a statement: there is no rambling, he starts with an idea, and he develops it. There is a beginning and an ending, an aura of simplicity. He treats both forms of communication with a sense of dignity — and conviction.

In another sense, McLaughlin’s conviction is not dissimilar to that of the English schoolmaster, for he has found a world which he feels epitomizes the highest attainment of beauty and art — of the sublime — in life. As a disciple of Sri Chomery, John has dedicated his life to God; he sees himself as God’s instrument. “I am trying to become clearer, more in tune, for God plays through me.” The music he plays often reflects the peace and harmony which he feels that he has found.

Living in an age of religious quackery, where we are constantly harangued by proselytizing parasites, and where cynicism is often the only defense, it could be very easy to immediately turn off to McLaughlin. But McLaughlin, unlike many others, does not preach what he practices. If you are going to talk to him about his music, however, he will invariably talk of the spiritual significance of it, as the two, for him, have become inseparable. Still, one does not have to have an acceptance or even an understanding of John’s spiritual existence to listen and realize that he makes good music. On the contrary, the music speaks very well for itself, and as McLaughlin is quick to admit, he is enormously pleased if anyone listens, no matter what the reason.

The reason a large audience at the Spectrum in Philadelphia recently came to see McLaughlin was because his band, the Mahavishnu Orchestra, was on the same bill with Tyrannosauras-Rex. The T-Rex audience, young, impressionable, the odor of bazooka bubble gum filtering through air, made a collective sigh of the “The Maha-What?” when McLaughlin and his men reached the stage. Slowly, a musical transformation took place. By the end of the set, the audience wouldn’t let them pack up. McLaughlin’s very polite about these things, and when he tells the crowd that his band has to leave, it’s because he realizes his responsibility to the other group, Theatrics is not his strongest suit. After the Mahavishnu Orchestra finally departed, the crowd reportedly responded by booing their former heroes, T-Rex off the stage until the Mahvishnu Orchestra could provide them with additional musical treats. Finally, to keep the peace, McLaughlin’s group came back on. The crowd, needless to say, went wild.

And it wasn’t the first time it had happened. At an earlier concert in Boston, the Mahavishnu Orchestra was billed second behind those young virtuosi from California, Jerry Garcia and Howard Wales. After the Mahavishnu Orchestra performed, it didn’t matter too much who was coming on next. When they made their Carnegie Hall debut, they were billed second to It’s A Beautiful Day. They received five standing ovations during their set; by the middle of It’s A Beautiful Day’s act, the once full house was half empty.

In each instance, McLaughlin was a relatively unknown factor to the audience. Some may have remembered him from his associations with Miles Davis, Tony Williams* Graham Bond, et al; for others, he had the reputation as being an excellent (and fast) lead rock guitarist. Few of those who have seen him, however, originally knew anything about his music. He comes on relatively low-key, says a few words, introduces the other musicians, takes a few moments to bow his head in prayer and praise to his Lord. There is no lead singer, none of the musicians dance and frolic around the stage during the performance. This is serious music, and each member of the band realizes his responsibility to his instrument and to the music. There are no gilded edges, no show-biz antics, only music. And it works.

“If the music comes from within/’ says John, “it will be felt from within. I think the musician has a responsibility to move people, to communicate with the audience.” And so, with silence and music, the band communicates. Without words, the band sings as it soars; without physical movement, there is dance. “When we play,” he says, “it is like dance. Sometimes you are in the middle; the rest of the time you are harmonizing. If musicians can communicate with each other on this level, then they can communicate with the audience; if they succeed, they will have done a very important thing.”

This is no simple task. McLaughlin’s music with the Mahavishnu Orchestra is of a highly advance nature; it is full of innovations, dynamic in that it explores untapped regions of rock guitar and rock music. McLaughlin’s style has retained some of the qualities of his playing with Miles, though to a lesser degree; he often works in modal scales (as does his pianist, Jan Hammer and violinist, Jerry Goodman), although his lines are longer, more continuous and flowing than they were in the Miles days. There is alsp a strong influence of blues and early (Django Reinhart) jazz, the guitarforms that he grew up with.

Compositionally, he places great demands on his musicians, as the pieces he has written demand a great deal of fast thinking and fast playing through oddmetered rhythms which help propel his unique melodic lines. On The Inner Mounting Flame, McLaughlin’s first Columbia release, his compositions are more than simple vehicles for soloing, as is the case with most improvisational music. Each musician (the others: drummer Billy Cobham and bassist Rick Laird) has distinct parts in the composition, so that there is interplay throughout. There are times in the music when each of the three lead instruments, the piano, violin and guitar, are playing solo lines simultaneously, the lines not being apart from one another. Other times, McLaughlin will use silence (i.e., the amount of musical space between two sounds) as a device. The tensions of the band are always in balance. Although there is excellent musicianship in the group, McLaughlin is in control throughout; he has written, arranged, and produced each song the band has done.

“To me,” says McLaughlin, “ every group has to have a leader. It just happens that it is my responsibility to lead. I do it because this is what I have to do. My Lord Supreme Wants me to be a musician, and so I have to get the band together and write the music. And so I lead it.

“All of us in the band have objectives. My objective, my duty is to inspire my fellow musicians, to lead them on to greater heights and depths of expression. The deeper and higher they become, the deeper the audience becomes moved, and that’s what it’s all about.”

“Musicians,” he continues, “must be more soulful; only then will the music become more soulful. Much of the music today comes from the mind, and thus can only reach the mind. Whatever I do must come from the depths of my heart in order to reach the heart of others. People want to be moved. That is the success of this band. Indian music, for example, is music which is completely devotional; it comes from the heart and reaches the heart. This is what I am trying to do.”

McLaughlin experimented in Indian modes in his second solo album, My Goal’s Beyond, which was released soon after he became a disciple of Sri Chomery. “Before that point,” he says, “my entire life was dedicated to music. Now, to be a disciple is all that is important. I have learned through meditation to concentrate more within, for I have always known that the music was waiting to come out.” McLaughlin, through Chomery, has found that once one becomes clear — when the contradictions of a person’s life has been eliminated — that the music can really flow. “When you become clear, you can begin to reach higher and higher levels in your music, you can make it your music.”

One becomes clear, for McLaughlin and Sri Chomery through meditation. “Even children should learn to meditate wlien they are young, in school. But this could never happen in Western schools.” He smiles. “You know, you may speak to a person for five years, and never know him as well as if when you meditate with him for one hour. You will know that person much deeper.”

Still, for McLaughlin, his devotion to his master and Eastern meditation is not the alienating stumbling block for nonmeditative communication as it is for others who often get carried away in their proselytizing. None of his fellow musicians in the Mahavishnu Orchestra are disiciples of anyone but their former music teachers, but it doesn’t present any problems in the band. “There is a great deal of love in our band,” he says. “Love of another, of God, of music. This is what musicians are generally talking about. The others may not aspire spiritually, but musically, they aspire intensely.” And despite his devotion to the spiritual and artistic forms of the East, he remains in many ways still a Western man. He dresses modestly, his hair closely cropped; the closest thing you’ll find to an Eastern artifact in his physical appearance is a button with a picture of Sri Chomery which he occasionally wears.

Although McLaughlin’s career is still in its early stages (he is 30), there might be some analogies drawn with another musician who, in the last years of his life, was also concerned with the divine in his music. His name was John Coltrane, and his art was, as McLaughlin calls it, devotional. Obviously, Coltrane is a very special giant in the history of improvisational music; he was, quite simply, a genius, but it took most of his days as a musician to realize that genius. Coltrane dominated the saxophone, and has influenced almost everyone who has followed him. One of those he has influenced is McLaughlin. “Coltrane was a great inspiration, musically and spiritually. You could say that he became my musical precept, my musical guru.” Coltrane and McLaughlin are different from each other stylistically, but each has seen his instrument as a means for spiritual expression. Whether or not McLaughlin will grow on the same musical path is unanswerable, but as John says, one of the most important virtues in life is patience, and the growth of a musician is a never-ending process.

“Everyone is going to the shore of attainment. If you attempt to attain the supreme goal, all lesser goals are achieved. Because I am moving along the spiritual path, all of my lesser goals will be fulfilled — all of my musical aspirations will be met.” One’s inspiration, he says, depends on one’s aspiration. He cites the example of a Madison Avenue ad man, “devoid,” he says, “of all spirituality and devotion to God. But he’s ambitious he’s aspiring; he then gets inspired and gets the best ideas. It is the same way down the line.” McLaughlin feels that this is especially true for musicians: “If a musician is devoted, he will get the inspiration to do what he desires.”

“To show an aspect of growing in the inner world, last night, I was at Woodstock at one of the Sri Chomery meditation groups with my wife, and as we were driving back, the sky was beautifully clear, and I looked at the stars, and I not only saw the stars, but I heard them. And I can tell you that their music is incredible. And one day I am going to write some music of what I heard.”