THERE ARE certain musical sounds that many right-thinking listeners will ...

I first went to hear Jack Wright in Philly because my teenage kids would hang out at his house, day and night. I don't know exactly what they did there, but I've been told over the years, in no uncertain terms, that I'm better off for not knowing. One thing I do know is that I'm better off for listening to Jack and his friends.

Jack organized the first free jazz concert I heard, called "Saxophone Soup." Eight saxophonists wandered around in front of, behind and beside the audience. One would begin honking or meeping or hooting; the others would come in, or not, as they pleased. Sometimes they'd yank out the mouthpiece and just spritz into it. Sometimes they'd lean back and wait for inspiration. Sometimes they'd all roar down the pike together, blowing wild. There was no overt organization?none?to what they were doing. It all depended on a collective musical intuition.

I was mighty impressed?and I've never been a big sax or even jazz fan. But here was music stripped to its elements, stripped of pretty much anything you'd otherwise think of as "music." How was it that it worked at all?

From then on, I went to every concert I could that involved Jack. And I came to think of him, frankly, as some kind of musical genius. No matter whom he played with, no matter the combination of instruments, something very unobvious that he was doing pulled it all together, even when it looked on the verge of fragmenting. Whenever he dropped out to let the drummer, say, take a solo, the tightness would loosen, the frayed edges start to show until he got back in the mix.

Suffering from almost dead-zero response in Philly (and most other places), Jack moved out to Colorado. He was hoping Boulderites and such would be more receptive. Out there he teamed up with some other escapees from the East, most notably trombonist Kurt Heyl, hanging out in the New Mexico foothills. They were able to put together a few tours here and there, but it's not something you make a living on.

Kurt stopped by our own mountain retreat last year and brought along a few home-cooked CDs, one of him with Wright, one of Heyl and saxist/percussionist Dave Nielsen and one of all three and a couple other guys thrown in. Now here's the interesting thing: As recorded, I actually like High Desert Duo, just Heyl and Nielsen, better than either of the ones with Jack.

I like them all, yes, but I think Heyl's probably as strong a musical personality as Jack, able to impart his own distinctive yawl and yowl, though a little closer (very little) to the conventional than Jack. So it's possible they would sometimes butt heads. I'm not too fond of Kurt's vocal yelps, but that's just me?the human voice is far from my favorite instrument.

Sometimes I wonder what it takes to get people interested in such outre sounds. I previewed Jack's every Philly appearance and persuaded not a single extra listener to drift in. But as I learned from a strange radio program I couldn't turn off because I was busy knocking down a wall, sometimes it's best to put the old aurally prejudiced mind in neutral for a bit and let the noise blurt in.

And there may be a chance for everybody to test that theory some year soon: Both Jack and Kurt are talking about moving back East.

What's Out There: Nothing you can latch onto easily. There's a CD or two for purchase through Drimala Records . Everything I have is put out by Heyl and Nielsen, last known email address, [kurtheyl@hotmail.com](mailto:kurtheyl@hotmail.com).