To be put frankly, Prophecy is a record with rhythmic intangibility to the point where the listener is desperately searching for a following bassline. Trailing a release in 1975 for the first time after an 11-year hiatus, Ayler recruits a consistent level of locomotive motion from his tenor saxophone. He recruits Gary Peacock on the bass who is as frantic as possible and also Sonny Murray on drums to form somewhat of a backbone to the band. This ensemble is rapid, at times harsh, but shows immense stamina to being able to crush a 41-minute recorded set with little interaction among the crowd. The entire process is never bogged down and is an experimental jazz lover’s wet dream until the very end of the five-track record.
Each blitz of sound coming from Prophecy is discovered time and time again as the noise of the record continues to blast through the speakers, transporting the listener into a crowed jazz bar of the 1960s. At this time, Ayler would be performing on the steps of avant-garde expressionism through his tenor saxophone, where harmony is distant and seems off course primarily. The silver lining comes more from the way that he can use the band to make a three-pillar hydra of unbalanced proportions.
Through the loose framework, the stance on free formalities, and sound from all angles, Prophecy is more similar to a haunted house than a jazz record. It pops from random corners to unleash a wave of unexpected and unantiquated fear from 1964. As the shadows seem to close in on the listener, Ayler and his band show brute strength in a hostile performance that never saw a mainstream day.