Released in 1979, this prophetic stew of spoken word, jazz, and funk from Annette Peacock was wildly ahead of its time and is still salient today. Her unflinching examinations of capitalism, sex, religion, et al. are underscored by lengthy, gorgeous grooves. Peacock wields her voice with wild abandon, at times delivering a melody like a Beat poet while other times wailing out of her throat like a saxophone, hitting blue notes as she pleases. Where most musicians riff, she creates sonic space. Perhaps too esoteric to garner commercial praise at the time, with this reissue we’re proud to encourage the discovery and praise that The Perfect Release deserves.
Annette Peacock is one of jazz’s greatest voices. She is a musician, singer, songwriter, producer, composer, and arranger. Though her mother was a professional violinist, and she did a short stint at The Juilliard School, she is considered primarily to be a self-taught musician, composing and writing since early childhood. It is her ability to occupy both worlds of formalized practice and freedom of expression that is the crux of her identity as an artist. Her music contains a duality of deep self-awareness and projecting social criticism where meaning is obscured with austerity. A distinguishing part of her vision seems to be her intention to write music that is not bound by structures of power, which precisely how she manages to remain grounded in any style at all.
Being ahead of one’s time is the curse of the prophetic voice, something Peacock should be considered to have. She and her music continue to evade clarity, but she should not be held in contempt for lacking universal or popular understanding, because sometimes it is better to be a follower than a pioneer. She and her work deserve their own power and subjectivity. What she does not deserve is to be buried under the accomplishments of the men who interpreted her work, or those she chose to work with.
Also available on CD!
Love’s Out To Lunch • Solar Systems • American Sport • A Loss Of Consciousness • Rubber Hunger • The Succubus • Survival