Ashes to Ashes

Ahhh. My favorite Bowie song.

He didn't do Heart's Filthy Lesson by any chance, did he? Or Station to Station?

I'm Afraid Of Americans

I love this one! Did he do "Word on a Wing"?

I managed to get fuck all done today at work... so why change now? With that it's Miles Pt. 2.

Found some interesting stuff, like this NPR page. Most of the interview snippets essentially repeat the text they accompany, but the one on his use of the Harmon mute (his signature sound), and especially the one by Herbie Hancock (I'll link to it below in a more appropriate spot), are illuminating. The clips at the bottom from the NPR Basic Jazz Record Library are great, too. (The Kind of Blue address is screwed up on the Miles page, but is corrected here on the KoB page -- no not the Glory-hating, chainmail guys.) Don't know the one reviewer, but the other is A.B. Spellman, the author of Four Lives in the Bebop Business, which is a great book; not sure why they changed the name for the reissue.

Speaking of worthwhile jazz books, if you go to Amazon & check out Gary Giddins' Visions of Jazz you can read the account of the sessions that yielded Cookin' et al. (Click "Search inside this book" and enter "marathon session". Unfortunately the section runs from 343-347, and you can only go two pages ahead from a given hit, the latest one being page 344. BUT if you type in "wicked arco" - referring to Chambers' playing - you'll get the last snippet of Prestige & the beginning of the Gil Evans sessions.) One last book: Martin Williams' great The Jazz Tradition, Giddins' inspiration (okay, non-musical inspiration); you can read some of it, but the Search Inside option is not available.

And I'm sorry about that cuz I want to look up something! Williams writes that the near-simultaneous appearance of Kind of Blue, Ornette's initial recordings and some third thing I can't remember is a significant moment in 20th century music in that you had different approaches (modal jazz, harmolodics, and whatever the other one was), arrived at independently, to the same basic problem -- the implications of bebop, liberating at first, were now constraining soloists. Wish I could remember the third. All I can think of is Cecil Taylor, but I don't think that's right. I'll look it up when I get home.

1) Miles post-KoB, 1960-1964: So Miles launches the modal revolution... and then retreats from it. I don't know much about this period in Miles' career, but apparently he spent most of it treading water. That's not necessarily a knock on the music, but from such a restless and innovative musician it is surprising. Coltrane and Bill Evans really took off from Kind of Blue, whereas the leader spent the next few years shuffling bandmembers. I think there's an article in The High Hat about In Person Friday Night at the Blackhawk, but the site seems to be down. [All right, it's back up!]Anyway, I can't recommend anything from this period because I don't know enough about it.

2) The "Second Great Quintet": By 1963 Miles had laid most of the groundwork for his second great quintet, having added Ron Carter, Herbie Hancock & the teenager Tony Williams to his band. A year later Wayne Shorter would join & the line-up would be set. The NPR Hancock clip is fascinating: "Miles said to us, 'Why don't you play behind me the way you play behind George?'" My first thought was George Coleman, his tenor between Coltrane and Wayne Shorter. But the music on the clip is "Petits Machins" from Filles de Kilimanjaro, a 1968 album. So then I thought, maybe he means George Benson, who had played on the album immediately before that, Miles in the Sky. But then Herbie goes on to say that "we let him have it," and that at first Miles was lost. Day two. He's still lost, but demanded more. "The third day I was the one twisting and turning and trying to find my place. Miles had not only grabbed the ball, he ran with it.... At the end of that day Miles said, 'I don't want to play any chords anymore.'" That suggests that "George" was George Coleman and that that was the real turning point for Miles and the amazing Hancock/Carter/Williams rhythm section, even before Wayne Shorter joined: Miles was ready to face up to the implications of Kind of Blue and "run with the ball." I already tabbed Miles Smiles as this group's best. Love Nefertiti, too, Tony Williams' "drum concerto".

Miles Part 3

3) Proto-electric: Miles in the Sky was where Miles first used electric instruments. Filles de Kilimanjaro features Herbie and Chick Corea on Fender Rhodes, and Carter on electric bass. By this time Miles was listening to a lot of Sly, James Brown and Hendrix. This is also the "uncredited Gil Evans album" and Gil loved Jimi as much as Miles did. I'm less enamored of the more electric side one than side two's gorgeous title track -a one of Miles' best performances -- and the Hendrix-inspired ("The Wind Cries Mary") "Mademoiselle Mabry". Side two ranks with just about anything else Miles did in my personal pantheon. In a Silent Way could go in the fusion category, but it's so delicate and so beautiful that it feels more right here. Another essential.

4) Fusion: As with "cool jazz" Miles gets blamed for a lot of crappy music that followed in his wake. Maybe even moreso with fusion since the leaders of so many of the big sellers (Weather Report, Return to Forever, etc.) were Miles' sidemen. But don't hold that against the music. Bitches' Brew is the famous one, and (in part) because of that, the historically important one, but the real treasure is A Tribute to Jack Johnson. Read the link. Lotsa interesting stuff that's new to me, esp. about side two & how it was put together, mostly by Miles' longtime producer, Teo Macero. John McLaughlin is awesome. Miles is great. Would have been interesting if Tony Williams had still been around (the recycled bit from In a Silent Way notwithstanding.) One of the other great things about Jack Johnson is that it's cheap. This period is filled with multi-disc sets. They're expensive. I listen to Agharta occasionally & like it a lot, but enough to recommend you spend $25 bucks on it? That's between you and your pocket book. Ditto for the rest of the 1970-1975 period. If you can find a copy, Greg Tate's Flyboy in the Buttermilk: Essays on Contemporary America has his Downbeat essay on the electric Miles, which I think is the best guide available. See Bob Christgau, too, esp. "Miles Davis's '70s: The Excitement! The Terror!". Btw, Christgau was Tate's longtime editor/mentor at The Voice, and I've no doubt they had many a discussion about Miles electric period.

5) Post-fusion: The only late Miles I have is Aura, but I haven't listened to it much. It's highly regarded within this period. Again, I'm pretty benighted & don't feel comfortable making recommendations.

That's not necessarily a knock on the music, but from such a restless and innovative musician it is surprising.

I think the key notion here is that Miles was looking for the right players. By all accounts, discovering Tony Williams put a fire under Miles' ass, and then getting Wayne Shorter brought in a whole new set of compositions to explore.

Miles was one of the greatest band leaders of all time because he drew so much inspiration from collaborators with distinct styles - whether that was Coltrane, Gil Evans, Bill Evans or Williams and Shorter (and Hancock, another major composer in the group).

Miles and Duke both have that Shakespeare-and-his-repertory-company thing going on, where they created to the talents of their collaborators.

Hey there, wise music people. I have a question for you - if I could only afford one Tim Buckley album, which one should I buy?

Hey there, wise music people. I have a question for you - if I could only afford one Tim Buckley album, which one should I buy?

Happy Sad - it's perfectly poised between his folkier/prettier (though occasionally precious) early stuff and his later jazzy experiments. From AMG:

Easily Tim Buckley's most underrated album, Happy Sad was another departure for the eclectic Southern California-based singer/songwriter. After the success of the widely acclaimed Goodbye and Hello, Buckley mellowed enough to explore his jazz roots. Sounding like Fred Neil's Capitol-era albums, Buckley and his small, acoustic-based ensemble weave elegant, minimalist tapestries around the six Buckley originals. The effect is completely mesmerizing. On "Buzzin' Fly" and "Strange Feelin'," you are slowly drawn into Buckley's intoxicating vision. The extended opus in the middle of the record, "Love from Room 109," is an intense, complex composition. Lovingly underproduced by Jerry Yester and Zal Yanovsky, this is one of the finest records of the late '60s. — Matthew Greenwald

But the Rhino compilation, Morning Glory is an excellent primer that covers his whole career and if you're going to jump in I think you'd probably find even more to enjoy there. He did a lot of good stuff.

Happy Sad - it's perfectly poised between his folkier/prettier (though occasionally precious) early stuff and his later jazzy experiments.

But the Rhino compilation, Morning Glory is an excellent primer that covers his whole career and if you're going to jump in I think you'd probably find even more to enjoy there. He did a lot of good stuff.

Thanks so much! I know I never post in here, but I read this thread sometimes and I am just in awe of you guys.

Thanks so much! I know I never post in here, but I read this thread sometimes and I am just in awe of you guys.

Jump in any time - we've all got opinions.

One reason I'm pimping the Buckley collection is just because he went through many many different phases from straight folk to orchestral psych folk to very jazzy folk to pornagraphic funk (no kidding). Happy Sad is a great record, and I think finds the mean of his interests, but he ranged far to either side of that.

Jump in any time - we've all got opinions.

That's the thing. You've got opinions. Whereas I have almost complete and total ignorance.

ETA: The pornographic funk intrigues me; I'm buying the collection.