On the occasions when I’ve solicited feedback in this space, I’ve been consistently impressed with the thoughtfulness and depth of feeling in those responses. But none of my queries have inspired such obviously heartfelt messages as my request, in the March 2014 column, for readers to send me their “Mahavishnu moments”—their fondest memories and bolts of inspiration related to the music of guitarist John McLaughlin’s era-defining jazz-rock outfit, the Mahavishnu Orchestra.
Despite today’s vast thoroughfares of digital information, jazz fandom remains a regional affair; most major cities, and some small ones, have a system of venues, festivals and musicians unmistakable from the one down the road, and that holds true in a lot of correspondence I receive. But the Mahavishnu emails were different, at once more uniform yet from more widespread locales, reflective of the big rock monoculture that created shared experiences for young music fans in the 1960s and ’70s. Kevin K. remembers the exact date of the Mahavishnu show that changed his life. (That would be April 1, 1972, at Princeton University, with John Prine opening.) Jim M. is similarly precise and ecstatic in recalling an Indianapolis concert that happened a few weeks later, and even snuck backstage when the band came through town the next time. Mark A., in Pittsburgh, was moved by McLaughlin’s onstage meditation ritual. (“He then straps on this beautiful Gibson double-neck guitar and burns!”)