The Awakening's Journey Through Jazz and Beyond

Released on Black Jazz Records in the early 1970s, the Chicago band defined artistic freedom, community and Black cultural awareness.

In the early 1970s, the music of The Awakening arrived like a transmission from another planet, carrying messages destined for that time, but also tailored to a future waiting to complete the conversation. Though the group’s catalog is slim, with just two albums released between 1972 and 1973, their impact has grown steadily over the years, expanding beyond what jazz purists could have predicted during their brief existence. To comprehend why, though, it’s important to understand the story of Black Jazz Records, the label that gave The Awakening a home.

In the pantheon of independent Black music institutions, Black Jazz occupies a unique space. It was never prolific like Strata-East, commercially abundant like Blue Note, or had the institutional backing of Impulse. Yet it possessed something more powerful: a commitment to Black artistic self-determination at a moment when such a stance was necessary.

Founded in Oakland in 1969 by pianist and producer Gene Russell alongside percussionist Dick Schory, Black Jazz emerged during a period of profound transformation in American music and politics. As the civil rights movement shifted into the era of Black Power, musicians searched for avenues outside traditional industry structures to portray their art. Jazz splintered and morphed into various subgenres: free jazz, fusion, spiritual jazz, soul jazz, and Afrocentric experimentation. Black Jazz Records welcomed all of it. As it seemed, the label’s mission was straightforward: provide a platform for young Black artists whose creative ambitions exceeded the narrow expectations of the mainstream marketplace.

That vision produced one of the most remarkable catalogs of the 1970s, with 20 albums released in four years. Yet within that modest output existed a universe of splendor: the cosmic spiritualism of Doug Carn, the searching tenor saxophone of Rudolph Johnson, the blistering bass and sophisticated grooves of Henry Franklin and Calvin Keys, the soulful elegance of Kellee Patterson, and — perhaps most intriguingly — the collective brilliance of The Awakening.

Unlike nearly every other act on the roster, The Awakening wasn’t built around a single bandleader. They were a true ensemble and the only group on Black Jazz’s roster. Though that distinction makes them fascinating, their importance extends beyond novelty. Their sound converged various streams and disciplines within Black music: jazz improvisation, soul groove, community activism, and the avant-garde innovations emerging from Chicago’s fertile creative underground.

Chicago has long been one of America’s great musical laboratories. By the late 1960s and early 1970s, it had become fertile ground for artistic investigation thanks in large part to the Association for the Advancement of Creative Musicians, or AACM. Founded in 1965, the AACM encouraged Black artists to create original work unconstrained by genre or commercial pressures. The organization would eventually produce visionaries like the Art Ensemble of Chicago, Anthony Braxton, and Muhal Richard Abrams, among others, all of whom released spiritually-inclined music beyond arbitrary categories.

The Awakening, a fascinating cross-pollination of scenes and mythologies, emerged from that environment. Some musicians in the band had roots in Chicago’s soul and R&B circuits, including work connected to the city’s legendary Cadet and Chess Records ecosystem. Others were directly connected to AACM circles and avant-garde jazz. The result was a band capable of moving fluidly between accessibility and exploration.

That duality is immediately apparent on Hear, Sense and Feel, their debut album released by Black Jazz in 1972, an LP meant to touch all sorts of people — the academics craving intellectual jazz, the dancers wanting to groove, the traditionalists needing something nostalgic. Where songs like “Prologue Spring Thing,” “When Will It Ever End” and “Epilogue” showcased the band’s affinity for meditative spiritual jazz, others like “Convulsions” and “Kera’s Dance” centered overt traces of funk. The same goes for Mirage, released just a year later, which further refined their aesthetic. If Hear, Sense and Feel introduced the group’s identity, Mirage expanded the possibilities within it, offering a sleek sound without sacrificing the immaterial aspects of the band’s previous output. For tracks like “Mode for D.D.” and “Slinky,” which appeared more funk-focused than before, were songs like “Mirage” and “Glory To The Sun” — celestial tunes emanating reflection.

There was an openness to The Awakening’s sound that distinguished them from many of their contemporaries, and predates the height of Earth, Wind and Fire in the mid-1970s. That band’s founder, Maurice White, got his start in Chicago around the same time, and his musical approach aligned with what The Awakening conveyed. But while White broadened his sound to bring in fans throughout the world, The Awakening never trekked that terrain. Instead, their music spoke only to niche audiences and never quite got its due. In 1975, Schory closed Black Jazz, and Russell started a new label called Aquarican Records that moved away from jazz and the stigma surrounding the term. The Awakening was no more.

While commercial success eluded the band, the rise of hip-hop, DJ culture, and crate-digging in the 1980s and 1990s sparked renewed interest in forgotten corners of Black music history. Collectors searching for obscure grooves stumbled upon Black Jazz Records, transforming its legacy from a neglected independent imprint into a revered cult label. As younger listeners encountered the music with fresh ears, The Awakening benefited from this reevaluation, which only enhanced the band’s mystique. Those accustomed to genre fluidity could hear connections between The Awakening’s work and modern movements in jazz, hip-hop, soul, and spiritual music.

Perhaps that’s the greatest testament to their achievement. The Awakening’s music rejected the notion that experimentation and accessibility were mutually exclusive, because they understood that complexity shouldn’t negate feeling. Nowadays, jazz embraces amalgamation. Artists move effortlessly between acoustic improv, electronic production, hip-hop rhythms, and global influences. In many ways, contemporary acts are exploring terrain that groups like The Awakening helped map decades earlier.

The Awakening may not possess the name recognition of jazz’s most celebrated ensembles, and their discography may be brief, but their work endures because it captures something essential about the era that produced it. In the end, the story of The Awakening prioritizes endurance, detailing artistry that outlived the limitations of the music business. Now decades removed from those original sessions in the early ‘70s, the band’s narrative may not be among the most celebrated chapters in jazz history, but it remains one of the most instructive. Sometimes the artists who shape the future aren’t the ones who dominate the headlines. They’re the ones quietly building a blueprint that others continue to follow.