Miles Davis, born on May 26, 1926 would turn 100 today. The jazz world is rife with memorials of this centennial and since almost anyone who listens to this music has in some way been touched by Davis' music, we at the Free Jazz Blog thought we would pitch in. It is hardly necessary to introduce the iconic trumpeter - you likely own Kind of Blue and Bitches Brew, right? - and while the musical structures on those albums loosened and spawned entire genres themselves, Davis was somewhat ironically ambivalent in his feelings - if not rather dismissive - towards Free-Jazz overall. Oh well, life is complex.
To join in the celebration, Free Jazz Blog collaborator Martin Schray proposed that we do what we like to do the most, write about recordings, chosen from Davis' sprawling discography. We did not set rules - no length, no time periods, overlap of albums was fine, just as long as the pieces reflected the writer's feelings towards the recordings. Today, we start off with Martin's reflections and will continue everyday with new impressions from our critics and a few close associates until there is simply no more to say!
- Paul Acquaro
Miles Davis- Birth of the Cool (Capitol, 1957)
In 1949 Capitol signed a contract with the up-and-coming trumpeter Miles Davis for a few singles, which he recorded with his nine-piece band that same and the following year. The first recordings were initially released on 78s, then eight tracks appeared for the first time as an album in 1953, on 10-inch vinyl. Four years later, Capitol released the sessions as an LP with eleven tracks. Even at that early stage of his career, one could already see what would define Miles Davis throughout his musical life: he was an atypical player, yet he possessed remarkable control over timing, dynamics, and emotional impact. The pieces gathered here are precise and focused; they swing with confidence and move between the immediacy of bebop and the sophistication of an Ellington band. Moreover, Davis was a brilliant bandleader who was already able to gather the best musicians around him (here and even more so later on). Birth of the Cool is characterized by the understated elegance of a band that played together perfectly, featuring Gerry Mulligan, Kai Winding, John Lewis, Lee Konitz, and Max Roach (to name just a few). Gil Evans served as arranger and the band’s éminence grise. Ultimately, this album also showcases Davis’s - sometimes underestimated- musical prowess. His mostly vibrato-free tone could be raw, yet also expressive and vulnerable. Just listen to “Jeru” and “Venus de Milo,” true musical masterpieces.
Miles Davis- Kind Of Blue (Columbia, 1959)
In various rankings, John Coltrane’s A Love Supreme and Miles Davis’s Kind of Blue are considered the best jazz albums of all time. And yet, especially if it comes to Kind of Blue, connoisseurs of harsher, freer music, don’t listen to this albums that often, because it allegedly has been played to death - just like “Yesterday” by the Beatles, “Smells Like Teen Spirit” by Nirvana, Antonio Vivaldi’s “Four Seasons“, Dave Brubeck’s “Take Five”, or Keith Jarrett’s “Köln Concert”.
But does that mean it has lost its quality over time? Not at all! As to Miles Davis, most hard bop players at the time played too much, too long, and too fast. His solution: modal playing instead of frantic chord progressions, mid-tempo, and plenty of space between the notes. He brought only a few sketches to the sessions, yet his choice of ensemble was a compositional masterpiece.
The band itself is perhaps the best jazz ensemble that has ever existed: Cannonball Adderley’s blues-soaked, relaxed, deep playing meets John Coltrane’s daring, modal runs; Bill Evans adds impressionistic touches; Paul Chambers’s bass and Jimmy Cobb’s drums are clean, lighthearted, and airy, forming a foundation against which the others have complete freedom. Davis’s trumpet holds the reins. It’s amazing how this sextet of giants swings. If you know “So What“, “Freddie Freeloader“ and “All Blues“ by heart, give “Blue in Green“ and “Flamenco Sketches“ a chance and listen closely. You’ll feel the magic in every note.
For the second time at the end of a decade, Davis shifted the course of music in a different direction. At the end of the next decade, he will also determine another change of course.
Miles Davis- The Complete In A Silent Way Sessions (Columbia, 1969)
The next groundbreaking shift in direction, in the late 1960s, was In A Silent Way. While Columbia’s decision in the late 1990s to release the complete sessions for Davis’s most important albums may have been driven by commercial interests, for Miles’s fans it’s been a welcome opportunity to witness a work in progress. And nowhere is this more evident than on In A Silent Way.
At the end of the Sixties Miles Davis was playing in half-empty clubs; soul, funk, and rock musicians were drawing the kind of audience he would have liked to have. For the In A Silent Way sessions between September 1968 and February 1969 he therefore wanted an electric bass and an electric piano. On The Complete Sessions you can literally feel the epochal change in the air. While the first track, “Mademoiselle Mabry,” still sounds very much like the old quintet, the change becomes more audible with every new musician.
In addition to Chick Corea and Herbie Hancock, Davis brought in Joe Zawinul as the third keyboardist. The core, now formed by three keyboards, and the addition of John McLaughlin as guitarist were the quantum leap that ushered in a new era. Davis wanted simple structures and hip sounds - nothing complex, and above all, no superfluous chords. The result, however, was not jazz-rock, but trippy psychedelic textures that also have an ambient quality.
But Davis was also concerned with being at the cutting edge of the times, both in terms of electronic equipment and recording technology. The tried-and-true production techniques no longer made sense to him. Teo Macero played a central role as producer, cutting up the sessions at specific points and reassembling them. As a musical event and group process, what was released back then had never existed before. The fact that the record is nonetheless full of the spirit of spontaneous improvisation is one of the most astonishing events in recent music history.
A fun fact regarding the reception of this album is that nearly fifteen minutes of the LP version consist of exact repetitions, and that this went unnoticed and uncommented upon for decades.
Miles Davis- Bitches Brew (Columbia, 1970)
Six months after In A Silent Way, Miles Davis ultimately broke with the jazz traditionalists. Bitches Brew was even more uncompromising, more radical, more challenging.
And it was my first Miles album. I bought it when I was 18; I needed it for a school presentation. When I played it (“Pharaoh’s Dance“, fading in somewhere in the middle and then fading out again), most of my classmates were confused. What was that? Jazz or rock or something else entirely? I didn’t understand Bitches Brew back then (and I’m not sure whether I do it today), but I found the sound fascinating. There are few albums I’ve struggled with as much - but it’s been worth it.
Davis simply took what he started with In A Silent Way and cranked it up another two notches. As the recording sessions for Bitches Brew approached, he expanded his ensemble once more. Three drum kits, three Fender Rhodes, two bassists, and three percussionists - who infused his music with African and Indian influences - were tasked with blending jazz and rock. He also added Bennie Maupin’s bass clarinet to Wayne Shorter’s sax and John McLaughlin’s guitar.
The musical motifs he had devised together with Wayne Shorter twitched like hummingbirds jolted by electricity. The staccato notes from his trumpet ricochet like shrapnels. The collective improvisations collapse like flash floods. Additionally, he led the ensemble like a conductor who has a rough idea of how the music should sound but had to trust his ensemble to make it happen.
“If I heard something in the music that I thought could be expanded, I gave instructions,” Davis says in his biography. The music celebrates the creative process itself; it makes energy palpable. Producer Teo Macero hit the record button the moment Davis stepped into the studio - whenever an amorphous mass of over a dozen instruments coalesced into a collective identity that complemented, repelled, and attracted one another. “We didn’t talk much during the recording sessions,” Macero said. “After the sessions, I spent weeks in the studio, listening to the tapes and beginning to piece the material together.” The result is structured free improvisation, which allows plenty of room for individuality and often reaches absolute ecstasy, all of which is mercilessly condensed.
An album you can listen to forever, one that never bores because it completely transcends boundaries.
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