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Spin Magazine PEACE 'TRANE San Francisco's Coltrane Church preaches the gospel of jazz giant John Coltrane. by Julia Chaplin
It's a foggy Sunday morning in San Francisco. The clock strikes noon. Behind the sweating windows of a converted storefront, the sweet harmonies of John Coltrane's "A Love Supreme" burn through the fog. The service at St. John's African Orthodox Church-known locally as the Coltrane Church-is going full tilt.
Sister Mary Deborah, her long dreadlocks gathered under a white habit, leads the congregation, waving a microphone. Bishop King, robed in fuchsia, preaches with his saxophone beneath a portrait of patron saint and jazz legend John Coltrane. In the picture, Coltrane holds a golden saxophone with flames shooting out of the mouth. Under his otherworldly gaze, the reverends in the horn section sway back and forth. A beautiful, dreaded deaconess with long, graceful arms plays bass next to a barefoot deacon, sweat running down his temples as he drums. Organ, piano, and stand-up bass dance in between the notes. The music and vocals climb higher and higher around each other. The congregation gives approving "amen"s with light tapping on drums and tambourines. A trancelike gleam spreads over their faces.
The church, founded in 1971 by Bishp Franzo King, praises God through the music of Coltrane. Coltrane experienced a spiritual awakening in 1957, and declared on his 1965 landmark album, A love Supreme, that his musical gift would be dedicated to thw worship of God. "Music is the avenue of faith to draw people into the consciousness of God," affirms Bishop King, a distinguised man of the church with overseeing eyes similar to those in the Coltrane portrait.
"The only time we ever had a complaint was when we weren't making any noise," remarks King. "There is this liquor store right next door to us, and the new owners had a bit of a problem with our ëservices.' One day I hear this big crash. They had all this liquor stacked ont eh other side of the wall right there, and it all came crashing dow. They ran over here expecting to find a lot of people singing and dancing, and it's just me sitting alone praying or something," laughs King. "What had happened was that we were in a fight with them, so we asked the Lord to deal with our neighbors. We joked about it in church later, about how God had tumbled down the walls of Jericho."
Three hours into the service and the choir is letting loose. Some well-dressed people with a map of San Francisco duck out for a quick double espresso down the street, while a few late sleepers with dyed hair mashed to one side stumble in. The pews sag with a motley crew of believers. Old women in their Sunday best, younger people still in last night's clothes-the crowd fits no easy sereotype except that they all seem very hip and far from your typical Sunday worshippers.
"We're not bogged down with a lot of prejudices like some other churches," explains the Bishop. "Coltrane believed that in music there is brotherhood. He felt the whole globe was community."
The church has a group of core members, but a lot of new people come after witnessing the house band, the Coltrane inspired sexted Ohnedaruth (compassion in Sanskrit), play packed gigs at San Francisco nightclubs such as the ë40's style CafÈ Du Nord, or San Jose's Ajax Lounge. "We've got to go where the sinners are," jokes saxophonist-priest Robert Haven. "They put down their drinks, stop trying to pick each other up, and listen with their mouths hanging open."
The band is made up of baptized members of the church, including Bishop King's three grown children, who could make a deaf grandmother believe. "Sre we'd like to put out an album, but the ultimate goal of our music is to make people happy," says 21- year old tenor sax Franzo King, Jr.
"We're lucky because we get to practice every Sunday in church," remarks King, Jr. "Coltrane said the audience is like the seventh member in the group-we play best in church because the audience really gets into the music."
In addition to the musical services, the church functions as a grass-roots mission, providing free meals, clothing, housing, and music classes to the needy. And Sister Mary Deborah hosts Uplift, a weekly radio show on KPOO-FM that plays four hours of Coltrane.
After preaching Coltrane every Sunday, doesn't the Bishop get sick of talking about him? King repeats the question aloud, making sure he heard it right. "I've been talking about him for 30 years and I haven't run out of things to say yet." |