In 1965, when Chicago’s South Side brimmed with artistic possibility, a group of idealistic Black musicians started sketching a future for like-minded creators to follow. They called themselves the Association for the Advancement of Creative Musicians, and even that name felt like a declaration. At its core, the A.A.C.M. stood for a refusal to conform, a commitment to new thought, and a belief that Black experimental music deserved room and reverence.

Formed by the multi-instrumentalist Muhal Richard Abrams, the organization set out to build an infrastructure where abstract composition thrived. At a time when the jazz world leaned heavily on standards or commercial swing, the A.A.C.M. emphasized personal — if not eccentric — expression. Members took classes, studied theory, learned multiple instruments and presented concerts that doubled as communal rituals. The music they created — by Abrams, Roscoe Mitchell, Anthony Braxton, Henry Threadgill and the Art Ensemble of Chicago — didn’t sound like anything the broader industry was prepared for. Their pieces could be playful or austere, filled with silence or overflowing with sound. They embraced “creative music” as both a philosophy and a practice, stretching the limits of what improvisation could mean.

Sixty years later, the A.A.C.M.’s influence remains undeniable, its teachings echoed in the boundary-pushing work of contemporary artists like Isaiah Collier and Angel Bat Dawid. Its commitment to community-based creativity stands as a model for how art can operate outside mainstream systems. Read on for a primer on the A.A.C.M. by a mix of musicians and jazz scholars. Scroll down to find playlists of the selected tracks, and don’t forget to leave your favorites in the comments.

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Jack DeJohnette, ‘This (Live)’

Chad Taylor, percussionist and composer

The master drummer Jack DeJohnette, who died in October, is well known for his contributions to bands led by Miles Davis, Keith Jarrett, Charles Lloyd and others, but his contributions to experimental and creative music are perhaps less familiar. This live recording with the bassist Larry Gray, Muhal Richard Abrams and DeJohnette’s old classmates at Wilson Junior College in Chicago, Roscoe Mitchell and Henry Threadgill, demonstrates not only his versatility as a drummer but also the incredible musicianship, brilliance and originality of three master A.A.C.M. musicians. The track “This,” written by Mitchell, is a master class in patience and control. I love how sound and texture isn’t used as a supplement to the music but as a focal point. The flutes, bass and piano are blended so well that they create the aural illusion of a mysterious new instrument. The fact that it was recorded live at the 2013 Chicago Jazz Festival makes it all the more impressive.

▶ Listen on Spotify, Apple Music and YouTube

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Maurice McIntyre, ‘Humility in the Light of the Creator’

Angel Bat Dawid, musician

This song reminds us to see our struggles honestly and with compassion. Today, and for far too long, Black communities have been suffering deeply from the substance abuse crisis — lives lost, families torn apart and a cycle of pain that feels endless. It’s humbling to recognize how systemic neglect and exploitation have played a part in this devastation. Kalaparusha Maurice McIntyre’s song “Humility in the Light of the Creator” offers a spiritual refuge amid all this suffering. His life, marked by struggles with addiction and time in prison, shows a journey from darkness to a place of humility and connection. His music, rooted in the powerful motto of the A.A.C.M. — “A power stronger than itself” — encourages us to acknowledge our flaws, seek healing and find strength through humility. The Creator’s light reveals all our grime and toxins, but it’s also a source of cleansing. Listening to Kalaparusha’s piece invites us to release sorrow and embrace peace, love and humility even in the hardest moments.

▶ Listen on Spotify, Apple Music and YouTube

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Kelan Phil Cohran and Legacy, ‘White Nile’

Damon Locks, musician and visual artist

Kelan Phil Cohran, after being a member of Sun Ra’s Arkestra from 1959 to 1961, was a co-founder of the A.A.C.M. in 1965. Signature elements of much of Cohran’s recorded output could be considered large-band compositions that lurch with funky esoteric grooves and group vocals with Afrocentric lyrics. The song “White Nile” stands out in sharp contrast, though. Originally released in 1993 on the album “African Skies,” “White Nile” is hauntingly sparse, beautifully hypnotic. Beginning with the harp, instruments step forward one at a time to take solos, adding dynamic color to the looping construction. The solo vocals of Aquilla Sadalla soar with wordless determination, and the Cohran horn solo that comes five minutes in begins with one sustained note so perfectly placed (and lasting longer than you can anticipate) that it elicits excited admiration. Each instrument is given its moment, and the solos feel more like a dance. Meditative yet soul stirring, inside a catalog of raucous tunes that feel akin to musical gatherings to address issues of the community, “White Nile” drifts and floats along the shores of a land where the meal is finished, the sun is setting and all are allowed to dream of what tomorrow may bring.

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