Miles Davis @ 100 - A Celebration Through Albums (2)

Day two of our celebration of Miles Davis at 100. See day one here.

On the Corner (Columbia Records, 1972)

Abrasive, Alcoholic, Anarchic, Anticlimax, Aphrodisiac, Arrogant, Autoimmune, Barbaric, Belligerent, Brash, Challenging, Contagious, Controversial, Cruel, Cubist, Cynical, Dangerous, Disloyal, Disturbing, Divining, Dizzy, Electrifying, Engaging, Essential, Evocative, Exhilarating, Expressionist, Fearless, Fussy, Futurist, Ghastly, Greasy, Grumpy, Hallucinogenic, Hardcore, Heavenly, Hypnotic, Infernal, Inflammable, Innocent, Intriguing, Irritating, Labyrinthine, Liberating, Loud, Magnetic, Material, Meaningless, Metropolitan, Monochrome, Mysterious, Neon, Neurasthenic, Nocturnal, Oblique, Obnoxious, Ominous, Polluted, Polychromatic, Pornographic, Precursory, Pretentious, Primal, Psychotropic, Quirky, Quixotic, Raw, Reckless, Rusty, Saturated, Self-indulgent, Sexy, Spiraling, Syncretic, Telluric, Temperamental, Timeless, Toxic, Uncanny, Uncompromising, Unruly, Vibrant, Visionary, Vulgar, Wicked, Xenomorphic, Yucky, Zippy: QUINTESSENTIAL, BLACK, MILES.

 - Ferruccio Martinotti 

 

ESP (Columbia Records, 1965)

Miles Davis’s second great quintet put a fantastic four behind the great leader: Wayne Shorter, Herbie Hancock, Ron Carter, and Tony Williams. Their 1965 ESP is the perfect result. Miles was the philosopher’s stone: put him in the presence of a potential genius stuck in a rut, two virtuosos coming to the studio with mediocre melodies, or two simple chords longing for each other and the right hands on the keyboard…and you got pure gold.

It helps if you have a crush on Shorter and Hancock. If you have been touched by the former’s Juju, or the latter’s Empyrean Isles you will feel your heart fluttering awake. The mood is pensive, sadly romantic (but in a good way), and always extending the witch’s finger. It doesn’t get better than this, just different and rarely as delicious. 

 - Kenneth Blanchard

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Miles Davis and the Modern Jazz Giants (Prestige, 1956)

Miles Davis and the Modern Jazz Giants was the first Miles Davis record I ever heard. It was a well-played LP in my Dad’s collection that I stumbled upon in my first year of college and for some reason, I decided to spin it. This was almost my first encounter with jazz at all — except some big band stuff in Abbott and Costello movies — and I would find it hard to convey the immediate wonderment I felt listening to Milt Jackson’s opening to “The Man I Love” (take 2).

Milt Jackson’s vibes weren’t the point to that track, and they're not the point to this encomium, but, like the Yellow Brick Road, that opening led me to an extraordinary, life-changing experience. I still wonder why nobody plays vibes like that, and I still wonder what it is about Miles’ non-muted take on the melody that hearing it — and Monk, Red Garland, and Coltrane — was like nothing before or since, for me.

Tutu (Warner Bros., 1986) 

The first new Miles Davis record that came out after hearing that was Tutu. Forty years separate me from that first listen, and thirty years separate Tutu from “The Man I Love.” I still enjoy Tutu quite a lot. All the tunes were written by or with producer/bassist, Marcus Miller — much as all the tunes from Miles’ 2nd quintet were written by Wayne Shorter — but there was no mistaking that Miles led the sessions and that it was Miles Davis music.

I would be lying if I said Tutu was as high in my estimation as the Prestige record, but the things that make Miles' music the ineffable thing it is are present in both cases. There’s a sweetness and melancholy in the ever-present harmon mute. His melodies are treated just so, and his improvisations seem inevitable. Also, possibly because of the space he leaves or the example he sets, he improves every musician he works with (except maybe Monk, but there’s a story behind that). So much time has passed, but this music still fires off my endorphins. Wonderful.

- Gary Chapin

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Ascenseur pour l'échafaud Soundtrack (Fontana, 1958)

Paris is the perfect city to film at night, in black and white, with its streetlights and shadows in soft focus. It’s the perfect city to film beautiful Jeanne Moreau as she walks without direction searching for her missing lover, passing brightly lit cafés and dimly lit alleys, stumbling in a daze through traffic.

And Miles Davis’s plaintive trumpet makes the perfect music to accompany her, the perfect music to furtively whisper “Je t’aime”, the perfect music to commit a murder for love…and the perfect music to get stuck in an elevator while trying to make your escape.

Miles Davis recorded the soundtrack for Louis Malle’s debut film Ascenseur pour l'échafaud (Elevator To The Gallows) by improvising while watching the film. It’s a great film in its own right, a terrific blend of noir tropes, and it’s one of the first films of the French New Wave. But it’s the soundtrack that makes it an all-time classic. 

- Richard Blute