He is a sight: a one-man Happening in steel-rimmed glasses, World War I Army tunic, orange-and-black-striped pants, drooping mustache, scraggly goatee, fuzzy-wuzzy hairdo. And he is a sound: a wild, free, singing sound that assaults the frontiers of jazz. "My mu sic," says Charles Lloyd, "has shocks. People need shocks to carry them on shocks on a glorious level." Last week the Charles Lloyd Quartet had shocks aplenty for the rockers at Fillmore Auditorium, San Francisco's hangar-sized discotheque. Though modern jazz normally goes over with teen agers like a 9 p.m. curfew,...
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