Ornette Coleman Tomorrow Is The Question! Vinyl Review | Miles...

What You Need to Know

Tomorrow Is The Question!: Why Did Ornette Coleman Fire His Bassist Mid-Session?

He didn't exactly fire him-he eliminated the position. For Tomorrow Is The Question!, recorded in 1959, Ornette Coleman made a decision that still confuses piano-dependent ears: he dropped the bass player entirely on select tracks. Percy Heath and Red Mitchell share bass duties across the album, but Coleman's harmonic vision was already moving beyond the "walking bass = harmonic anchor" assumption that governed most jazz. What you hear is Coleman testing the limits of melody-as-structure, using Don Cherry's pocket trumpet as a call-and-response partner rather than relying on a chordal foundation. The result? A record that sounds like bebop remembering itself incorrectly-phrases that should resolve don't, and the pocket moves like it's being pulled by an undertow you can't see. This was Coleman's last album for Contemporary Records before Atlantic signed him and the phrase "free jazz" became unavoidable.

Tomorrow Is The Question!: Is This the Most Accessible Gateway to Ornette's Revolution?

Yes-and that's exactly why serious Coleman heads sometimes dismiss it. Recorded just months before The Shape of Jazz to Come rewired the entire conversation, Tomorrow Is The Question! still has one foot in recognizable structures. Shelly Manne's drumming is conversational, not confrontational. The melodies are hummable, even when they veer sideways. You don't need a PhD in atonality to follow the thread. But here's the thing: accessibility doesn't mean compromise. Coleman was already composing in a language where "changes" were suggestions, not rules. Tracks like "Tears Inside" and "Mind and Time" move with the logic of a folk melody-direct, emotionally transparent-but the harmonic implications are slippery. If you've ever wondered what free jazz sounds like before it decided to burn the house down, this is the album. It's Coleman with the safety on, but his finger's already on the trigger.

The Numbers Don't Lie

The Tracklist

Side A

• Ida Lupino
• Start
• Closer
• Sideways In Mexico
• Batterie

Side B

• And Now The Queen
• Figfoot
• Crossroads
• Violin
• Cartoon

Start the stream. Let the air settle. Then we'll talk about the wax.

What It Feels Like to Drop the Needle

This record feels like a conversation overheard in a language you almost understand, where the rules shift mid-sentence but the meaning stays clear. Coleman's alto has that dry, reedy bite-no vibrato to soften the edges-and it cuts through the air like a question mark that refuses to curve. Don Cherry's pocket trumpet answers in phrases that sound like half-remembered melodies from a dream, and the two horns move together in a dance that's more telepathy than arrangement. There's no piano to fill the harmonic gaps, so the space breathes. You can hear the room. Shelly Manne's drumming is all conversation-brushes that whisper, rimshots that punctuate, a ride cymbal that shivers instead of swinging in a straight line.

The standout is "Tears Inside," where Coleman's melody sounds like it's being pulled apart by gravity and reassembled in midair. There's a tenderness here that gets lost in the "free jazz = chaos" narrative. This isn't abstract noise-it's melody unmoored, floating free but still tethered to something human. "Mind and Time" moves with the pocket of a spiritual, but the harmony refuses to settle. It's like watching someone walk a tightrope in slow motion-graceful, precise, and just a little dangerous.

Best use case? Late afternoon when the light's going sideways through the blinds and you've got an hour to sit still. This isn't background music. It demands attention but doesn't punish you for it.

Pair it with black coffee and a window seat. The record's restless energy amplifies the caffeine, and you'll want to watch something-clouds, traffic, rain-while the melodies work their way under your skin.

The Nerd Sheet: Why Collectors Care

Here's where the numbers start telling a story. On Discogs, the master release page lists 64 collectors who want this album versus 89 who already have it. That's a 1:1.4 ratio-healthy demand, but not the feeding frenzy you see with Coleman's Atlantic titles. The original Contemporary Records pressing (Contemporary M3569) regularly sells for $150-$250 depending on condition, but this 2013 Craft Recordings reissue hovers around $18-$21. That's the sweet spot for anyone who wants to hear the music without mortgaging the turntable.

The listening lineage here runs deep. You can hear Coleman's melodic logic-those phrases that start in one key and dissolve into another-echoed in later free jazz landmarks. Paul Bley, who contributes compositions to this session, would spend the next decade exploring similar harmonic ambiguity on ESP-Disk releases. Steve Swallow's bass work on later Bley sessions carries the same "implied harmony" approach Coleman pioneered here. Even Carla Bley's compositional voice, which shows up on tracks like "Ida Lupino," would echo through the downtown New York jazz scene for decades. What makes these passages magnetic to other musicians? It's the openness. Coleman leaves space for reinterpretation. A phrase that sounds like a simple blues lick reveals itself as something stranger when you try to harmonize it. It's a musician's magnet because it rewards theft-you can lift the melody, reharmonize it in twelve different ways, and it'll still sound like it's pointing toward something just out of reach.

Session synergy: Coleman and Don Cherry were inseparable during this period, recording together on nearly every Coleman date from 1958-1961. But this session is notable for the rhythm section. Shelly Manne was a West Coast cool jazz fixture-precise, tasteful, the kind of drummer who made difficult music sound effortless. Pairing him with Coleman's asymmetrical phrasing created a productive tension. Percy Heath and Red Mitchell, both virtuoso bassists, split duties here because Coleman was still figuring out if he even wanted a bassist in the mix. The result is an album that sounds like it's negotiating with its own structure in real time.

According to Wikipedia, this was Coleman's final release on Contemporary before his historic Atlantic run. That context matters. This is Coleman at the edge of the diving board, testing the water temperature before the full cannonball of The Shape of Jazz to Come. The Contemporary sessions are more exploratory, less polemical. There's no manifesto here-just a group of musicians trying to figure out what happens when you remove the safety net.

The Session That Bridged Two Eras

The recording sessions for Tomorrow Is The Question! took place in Los Angeles in February 1959, with engineer Richard Alderson capturing the proceedings. Coleman was 28 years old and already a lightning rod. His plastic alto sax-a white Grafton that he'd later abandon for a brass Selmer-had a polarizing tone: thin, nasal, cut-through-anything direct. Critics either called him a genius or a charlatan. There wasn't much middle ground.

The "happy accident" on this record? The decision to record without a piano. It wasn't premeditated revolution-it was pragmatic. Coleman wanted harmonic freedom, and a piano player would've instinctively filled the gaps with chords that Coleman's melodies were designed to avoid. So the session became a quartet (alto, trumpet, bass, drums) with the bass player functioning less as a harmonic anchor and more as a melodic counterpoint. Percy Heath, best known for his work with the Modern Jazz Quartet, had to rethink his entire approach. Instead of walking through chord changes, he shadowed Coleman's melodic logic, sometimes in unison, sometimes a half-step away, always listening.

Here's a sideman stat worth chewing on: Shelly Manne, the drummer on this session, had just come off a string of West Coast cool jazz dates-Shorty Rogers, Chet Baker, the kind of music that prized restraint and understatement. But Manne was also a listener. He understood that Coleman's phrases didn't land on the expected beats, so he learned to anticipate the unexpected. His drumming here is all texture-brushes on "Tears Inside," subtle cymbal washes that shimmer rather than pulse. It's a masterclass in how to support a soloist without dictating the rhythm.

Ornette Coleman would go on to record The Shape of Jazz to Come just months after this session, and that album would cement his reputation as free jazz's founding father. But Tomorrow Is The Question! is the warm-up lap-the moment when the rules started bending but hadn't snapped yet.

You can grab a copy of this essential reissue right here at Miles Waxey, where it's currently listed at $21-less than the price of two drinks at a jazz club, and it'll last a hell of a lot longer.

The Deadwax Truth: What You're Actually Buying

Let's talk technical. This 2013 Craft Recordings reissue (catalog number CR00596) was mastered by David Hancock from ESP-Disk' Ltd. source tapes. That's important. ESP-Disk was the label that would later release Coleman's most uncompromising work, and their archival standards were solid. The mastering here is clean-no unnecessary compression, no digital "enhancement" to make it sound "warmer." What you get is a faithful reproduction of the original Contemporary Records session with modern pressing quality.

The vinyl itself is standard 140-gram black wax, pressed in the U.S. It's not audiophile-weight, but the pressing is quiet. Minimal surface noise, good channel separation, and the alto sax sits exactly where it should in the left-center of the soundstage. Don Cherry's trumpet answers from the right, and the rhythm section anchors the center. The stereo image is wide without feeling artificial.

Now, about those original Contemporary pressings. If you see a copy with the yellow label and "Los Angeles" address, you're looking at a first pressing that'll cost you $150-$300 depending on condition. The difference in sound? Marginal for most ears. The original has slightly more "air" in the high end-you can hear the spit valves on Cherry's trumpet, the reed chatter on Coleman's alto. But unless you're running a high-end cartridge through a tube preamp, the Craft reissue gets you 90% of the way there for 10% of the price. That's the honest math.

Label variations: Contemporary Records went through several label designs in the late '50s and early '60s. The earliest pressings have a yellow label with "Contemporary Records Inc." in a serif font. Later reissues on Fantasy Records (which absorbed Contemporary's catalog in the '70s) use a plain black label with white text. The Craft Recordings reissue mimics the original yellow label design but includes the modern Craft logo. It's a respectful nod to the past without pretending to be something it's not.

Sound description: The frequency response skews mid-forward, which is exactly right for Coleman's alto. His tone sits in that 1kHz-3kHz range where the human ear is most sensitive, and the mastering lets it cut without harshness. The bass is present but not boomy-Red Mitchell's and Percy Heath's lines are clear and articulate, never muddy. Shelly Manne's cymbals have that papery tssss of brushes on coated heads, and the snare has a dry, woody snap that places you right in the room.

Mood-wise, this is a late-afternoon-into-evening record. It's contemplative without being mournful, adventurous without being aggressive. Best paired with bourbon-something with a bit of spice to match the unpredictability of Coleman's phrasing. Time of day? That liminal hour when work is done but the night hasn't started. When you're not sure if you want to think or just feel.

The Human Behind the Horn

Ornette Coleman was born in Fort Worth, Texas, in 1930. By the time he recorded Tomorrow Is The Question!, he'd already been kicked off bandstands for his "out of tune" playing, fired from R&B gigs for refusing to honk, and dismissed by critics who thought he couldn't play "real" jazz. The irony? Coleman had perfect pitch and a flawless technical command of his instrument. He just chose to play outside the accepted harmonic framework, and that choice was unforgivable to the jazz establishment of the 1950s.

According to Wikipedia, Tomorrow Is The Question! was subtitled The New Music of Ornette Coleman!, a title that reads like a challenge. Coleman died in 2015 at the age of 85, leaving behind a legacy that redefined what jazz could be. But in 1959, he was just a guy with a plastic saxophone and a stubborn belief that melody didn't need a harmonic cage.

The cultural afterlife of this album is quieter than The Shape of Jazz to Come or Free Jazz, but it's no less important. Musicians still study these tracks-not for licks to steal, but for approaches to borrow. How do you solo without changes? How do you build tension when there's no harmonic resolution? Coleman's answers are all over this record, and they're still being debated in practice rooms and late-night sessions.

Ornette Coleman in performance-proof that this music was meant to be witnessed, not just heard.

Collector's Corner: The Final Audit

Here's the straight talk: if you're chasing the original Contemporary pressing for bragging rights, go ahead. But if you want to listen to this music without wincing at the price tag, the Craft Recordings reissue is your move. It's pressed well, mastered faithfully, and priced like a record that wants to be played, not archived. At $18-$21, it's cheaper than most new releases, and it sounds better than 90% of the vinyl being pressed today.

The "bang for your buck" equation here is simple: skip the $200 original unless you're a completist or a dealer. The reissue gives you the same performances, the same sequencing, and a pressing quality that'll satisfy anyone who doesn't own a $10,000 turntable. Save your money for the Atlantic titles-those are the ones where Coleman's vision fully crystallized, and those original pressings are worth the premium.

Alternative route: if you want deeper into Coleman's early work, track down Something Else!!!! (his 1958 Contemporary debut) or The Shape of Jazz to Come (the 1959 Atlantic landmark). Both are essential. But Tomorrow Is The Question! sits in a sweet spot-it's accessible enough for newcomers and substantial enough for heads who've been around the block.

Grab a copy of Tomorrow Is The Question! from the Miles Waxey bins and see why this record still matters 65 years later. Shop the record here.

One Last Thing Before You Go

Here's a question worth sitting with: If Ornette Coleman had played it safe-if he'd stuck to bebop changes and kept the piano in the band-would we still be talking about him? Or would he be just another competent alto player who made a few solid records in the late '50s and faded into footnote status?

The genius of Tomorrow Is The Question! is that it doesn't demand an answer. It just asks the question, over and over, in ten different ways. And that's enough.

What's your take? Drop a comment. Tell me which track hit you hardest, or whether you think the bass-less experiment worked. I'm listening.