I've been listening to a ton of late 60s/early 70s Miles over the last few days, thanks to a friend who sent me burns of The Complete Jack Johnson Sessions, Live Evil, Get Up With It, and The Complete Bitches Brew Sessions (trust me, this guy is in my will now). This stuff is so good, it's scary. I mean, I had On the Corner, Jack Johnson, In a Silent Way, Filles de Kilimanjaro, and Bitches Brew already (so it's not like this is completely new to me), but the sheer scope of some of these songs and the whiplash between the different versions of the songs on the boxes is just revelatory. Take, for instance, the vast difference between the textures in "He Loved Him Madly" off of Get Up With It (one of Bob Quine's favorite tracks, by the by), with its Silent Way-style ambient softness, and the crunchy proto-Sonic Youth splat of "Willie Nelson (#3)" on the Jack Johnson box with Sonny Sharrock in the left ear and John McLaughlin in the right, both distorted to the Mariannas Trench, the fact that one guy could mastermind these tracks and these bands at nearly the same time is pretty amazing.

Lucky beggar. Brew is the only Miles of that era I have, and it's stunning

Today I am listening to Tim Buckley's 2 crazy avant-jazz folk masterpieces, Starsailor and Lorca, and also trying to figure out whether I love, My bloody Valentine-wise, the pure sounscapes of Loveless or the fracturing pop songs of Isn't Anything best

First word on the new Interpol. Influenced by Gentlemen? Interesting.

I'm definitely a Loveless man, Jim. And I lean towards Starsailor, but only because I'm more familiar with it.

I spent most of the afternoon listening to Miles Davis's Jack Johnson Sessions box. Which is most decidedly not white guy music (although it's so influential to the indie-rock that maybe someone could make that argument, but not me).

I will point out, though, that along with Miles--and more 1A and 1B than second and third in importance--the keys to Jack Johnson are white guys John McLaughlin and Teo Macero. Macero, in fact, is crucial to Miles' whole electric period. He was important before that, but he was indispensible for the late sixties and seventies output. (See this interview with Teo.)

One of the fascinating things about Miles is how he directed his bands. By ALL accounts he was almost completely laissez faire (part of the reason the great bassist Dave Holland left was frustration that the leader wasn't leading enough; paraphrase, "There was so much there, and he eventually got it together, but when I was there Miles didn't really know what he wanted so it made it really tough on us."), yet by ALL accounts he was completely in control. The sidemen were all somewhat baffled by how Miles would never tell them what to do but what get them to do it nonetheless -- and years later they still are. Every interview is the same: "I don't know how he did it, I'm not sure what he did, but somehow he got it out of us."

I think this book was where I read about volume being a very important part of what Miles was trying to do (something he got from Hendrix), and it helped me to hear "He Loved Him Madly". It's not a loud track at all, but if you listen to it at a low volume you miss most of the textures that are the core of what's going on. Brian Eno namechecked the tune as being his main inspiration, or at least the key insight, for ambient music.

But, Hayden, I'm going to recommend to of the "transitional" tracks: side 2 ("side 2? what's a side?") of Filles de Kilimanjaro, the title track (godlike trumpet) and the uncredited Gil Evans collaboration, the "Wind Cries Mary"-inspired "Mademoiselle Mabry" (Betty Mabry introduced Miles to Jimi), with astonishing interplay among the rhythm section, especially Dave Holland and Tony Williams.

Oh yeah, I picked up Filles at your recommendation last year. And I can see exactly how "He Loved Him Madly" influenced Eno. I was pretty unprepared for the McLaughlin v. Sharrock guitarfest on the Jack Johnson Sessions. I mean, the album itself rocks like hell, but the Sessions are like Can with Thurston Moore sitting in.

I will point out, though, that along with Miles--and more 1A and 1B than second and third in importance--the keys to Jack Johnson are white guys John McLaughlin and Teo Macero. Macero, in fact, is crucial to Miles' whole electric period. He was important before that, but he was indispensible for the late sixties and seventies output. (See this interview with Teo.)

Oh, and I'm not discounting the white guys, just saying that most people wouldn't associate Miles' fusion period with white guy music. I think it's somewhere between krautrock & funk.

I think it's somewhere between krautrock & funk.

Which makes sense given Miles' main inspirations (Hendrix, Sly, JB & Stockhausen) for this portion of his career. And the band's resident Kraut, Joe Zawinul. Yeah, I know he's Austrian. Vienna native Billy Wilder had a great line: "The genius of the Austrian people: we've convinced the world that Beethoven was Austrian and Hitler was German."

I just loaned JJSessions Disc Five (which has the original album tracks on it) to the trumpet-playing jazzbo down the hall, who said "Joe Zawinul's on this, right? 'Cause he's the shit." Which cracks me up, because he's a trumpet guy more excited about Zawinul than Miles.

Is he one of the "Jeez, I have more chops than Miles" guys who just doesn't get it? My friend Bob is a jazz and classical trumpeter (he's a monster) and he said his Dad was like that ("Miles couldn't carry Dizzy's mouthpiece") despite Bob's thorough explanations as to why he was wrong.:-)

Calexico is on Soundcheck (WNYC.org) and is covering "ALone Again Or" as I type this.