This long-out-of-print (and oft-bootlegged) jewel from US saxophonist and composer Pharoah Sanders is a record that has attained legendary status among rare jazz collectors. Originally released on producer Bob Cummins’ independent India Navigation label in 1977, the Pharoah sessions were initially fraught with misunderstanding and disappointment, partly due to the displacement of Sanders’ original intention to abandon jazz and record a rock album. What eventually emerged, under Cummins’ guidance, was a more spiritual affair, flecked with traces of funk, gospel and forceful free jazz skronk, all performed by a group of musicians who would never meet together again.

Central to the flow of Pharoah (and especially this latest extended edition) is the epic ‘Harvest Time’, a lengthy spontaneous composition revolving around a simple chord pattern that is played out though a recurring refrain of guitar, bass, harmonium and saxophone. Opening with Tisziji Muñoz’s looped guitar motif, this acts as the musical pulse that activates the work as Sanders’ saxophone gently slides in, alongside Steve Neil’s silkily smooth bass renderings. Further along and Bedria Sanders’ untutored harmonium playing takes hold, its wheezing drone being the perfect accompaniment to her husband’s joyful playing as he catches the theme with his instrument and spins it in another direction. Despite the absence of drums on the studio version, there is an organic vibration seeded throughout the piece that, on repeated hearings, pushes forward exciting new sonic shoots of discovery.

The rest of Pharoah is fleshed out with the funk-fuelled ‘Love Will Find A Way’ (replete with roaring sax solo) and ‘Memories of Edith Johnson’ (a gospelised tribute to the saxophonist’s church-attending aunt), while the ‘bonus’ disc is made up of two previously unreleased live versions of the aforementioned ‘Harvest Time’. Here the natural ambient groove that roamed through the studio recording is given over to a more business-like sounding fusion jazz arrangement, infused with Khalid Moss’s shimmering electric piano, together with the lively addition of bass player Hayes Burnett and Clifford Jarvis on drums. As illuminating supplementary examples of how Sanders successfully extended the piece, both recordings work fine but neither totally manages to reach the state of nirvanic ingenuity that possesses its creator’s original masterplan.