Miles Davis @ 100 - A Celebration Through Albums (6)

The final day of our celebration of Miles Davis at 100. See day 1, day 2, day 3, and day 4 respectively. 

 

By Paul Acquaro

 

Bitches Brew ... the first time I heard it, I was in high school. A friend had beaten me to the jazz-rock trough and had been drinking liberally. He effused about Billy Cobham, talked in hushed tones about Mahavishnu Orchestra and conspiratorially name dropped the title of Miles Davis' electric masterwork. Coming from a steady diet of Bob Dylan, Paul Simon and Violent Femmes, I wasn't so sure I shared in the taste, yet. I picked up a copy of Bitches Brew and popped it into the tape machine ... and I didn't get it. It was chaotic and harsh to my then tender, structure-addicted ears. Today, I hear only creamy tones and fluffy textures, I can not imagine not luxuriating in the sweet drippings of a Fender Rhodes, but that was then. What turned out was, I really needed was a gentler introduction, an opening of my taste buds to the exotic riches on offer, what it turned out I needed was the 1968 release Filles De Kilimanjaro, the first of the so called 'Directions in Music' labeled albums that was used on Mile's electric output until 1973. 

Filles De Kilimanjaro (Columbia, 1969)

A so-called transitional album, Filles De Kilimanjaro featured the 'second great quintet' with Herbie Hancock, Ron Carter, Tony Williams and Wayne Shorter on the first recording session. On a second session, Davis replaced Hancock and Carter with Chick Corea and Dave Holland. The resulting album found electric keyboard and bass along side their acoustic counterparts, looser musical structures, and the introduction of more straight-ahead rhythm and melodic snippets and statements. The near hypnotic pulse of the opening track 'Frelon brun' and the crispy blasts of trumpet on 'Petits Machins' fascinated me. However, it was the title track that had the most power effect. The electric bass most of all, driving and simple, it anchored the music. I finally heard the trumpeter's melodies and the shimmering keyboard work in their fullness. Here was Davis and his luminous crew laying the foundations for the even more abstracted constructions on Bitches Brew. By then, Teo Macero would be cutting and pasting together the long jams into tracks, but at this point they were still somewhat traditional songs. This was the gateway for me, I began developing the taste for electric Miles Davis music that sustains me to this day. 

 

Star People (Columbia, 1983) 

A little later in my listening life, a slightly tattered copy of the Miles Davis box-set The CBS Years 1955 - 1985, which I likely picked up at Princeton Record Exchange for dirt cheap, did it again. This time, I was caught by surprise by the track 'Star on Cicely.' I hadn't yet progressed into 80s Miles, or rather, the snippets that I had listened hadn't generated the enthusiasm I felt for the 'electric Miles' period. Something changed with this one. Excerpted from the 1983 album Star People, 'Star on Cicely' had an unexpected rocking punch to it. The music is slicker than the 70s output, song structure is back and Miles' playing is sharp. What I liked even more was the guitar work on the album, which was primarily Mike Stern with some contributions from John Scofield. Apparently, the head melody of the track was derived from an improvised line that Scofield played - though I'm not sure where I got that information from - regardless the song that was subsequently crafted had a lot of moxie. The album itself is rather joyful. The opening track, 'Come Get It,' is a barn-burner, with Davis ablaze on the track, bassist Marcus Miller providing a funk grounding, and Stern comping with spunk. I don't care for everything on the album, elements of 'Speak' and 'U 'n' I' are harbingers of cheesier times coming, but at least 3/4 of this album still resonates for me. 

 

I learned about the live recordings We Want Miles! and Miles! Miles! Miles! a little later and tracked down both albums, both of which captured the magical moments found on Star People. 

 

Bill Laswell - Panthalassa: The Music of Miles Davis 1969–1974 (Sony, 1998) 

Last but not least, I must mention Bill Laswell's masterful remix album Panthalassa. This album rewired my musical brain again when it came out in '98. Laswell used Davis' electric era music as a source, and employed the studio to emphasize and de-emphasize different instruments, mixing the impressionistic sounds of In a Silent Way to give it a new punch, adding a dub foundation to parts of Agharta to work up a different mood and finding a new song in 'He Loved Him Madly.' Sad that a follow-up to Panthalassa never made it to release. 

 

I could keep on going, as I slobber ecstatically when thinking of Live-Evil, Tribute to Jack Johnson, Big Fun, Get Up with It, On the Corner, At Fillmore, Dark Magus, Agartha and Pangaea, but I think you get the picture.