This is the album that made John McLaughlin a semi-household name, a
furious, high-energy, yet rigorously conceived meeting of virtuosos that,
for all intents and purposes, defined the fusion of jazz and rock a year
after Miles Davis' Bitches Brew breakthrough. It also inadvertently led
to the derogatory connotation of the word fusion, for it paved the way
for an army of imitators, many of whose excesses and commercial panderings
devalued the entire movement. Though much was made of the influence of
jazz-influenced improvisation in the Mahavishnu band, it is the rock element
that predominates, stemming directly from the electronic innovations of
Jimi Hendrix. The improvisations, particularly McLaughlin's post-Hendrix
machine-gun assaults on double-necked electric guitar and Jerry Goodman's
flights on electric violin, owe more to the freakouts that had been circulating
in progressive rock circles than to jazz, based as they often are on ostinatos
on one chord. These still sound genuinely thrilling today on CD, as McLaughlin
and Goodman battle Jan Hammer's keyboards, Rick Laird's bass, and especially
Billy Cobham's hard-charging drums, whose jazz-trained technique pushed
the envelope for all rock drummers. What doesn't date so well are the
composed medium- and high-velocity unison passages that are played in
such tight lockstep that they can't breathe. There is also time out for
quieter, reflective numbers that are drenched in studied spirituality
("A Lotus on Irish Streams") or irony ("You Know You Know");
McLaughlin was to do better in that department with less-driven colleagues
elsewhere in his career. Aimed with absolute precision at young rock fans,
this record was wildly popular in its day, and it may have been the cause
of more blown-out home amplifiers than any other record this side of Deep
Purple.
(by Richard S. Ginell, All
Music Guide)
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