MILES DAVIS Kind of Blue ➤
THE LAST KING OF AMERICA: HOW MILES DAVIS INVENTED MODERNITY
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We shall not cease from exploration —T. S. Eliot, “Little Gidding”
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i
I’m not thinking about anybody but myself when we play. I mean, how is my audience gonna move me? I know that if I don’t move myself, then it’s no good. —Miles Davis, 1973 ii
By 1959, the year when the album Kind of
peramental, seemingly evil-minded artist: Lord
tertain his audience in the way a tap dancer, a
Blue was recorded, trumpeter Miles Davis had
Byron on a bandstand. (Both Davis and Byron
magician, or an acrobat might. How Davis’s de-
become one of the most famous jazz musicians
liked boxing and both were cruel to women.)
mand for dignity struck the public beyond the
of his generation (post-World War II), a cele-
This was clearly at the time a remarkably new
fact that many people were intrigued or even,
brated and singular personality in his culture
public persona for a black man to assume but
horror of horrors, “entertained” by it is unclear.
and in a profession where unusual and uncon-
Davis, undaunted by its daring, wore it with the
Some surely thought he was a snob, others that
ventional sorts were the rule, not the exception.
panache of swashbuckler.
he was overly sensitive (a common charge
He stood at a pinnacle, at a moment of mastery
“I’m a musician, I ain’t no comedian,” he
against a member of a persecuted minority who
not only of his music but also of his moment.
once growled at nightclub owner Max Gordon,
gets prickly), and still others probably thought
This was no small achievement as the jazz per-
“I don’t smile, I don’t bow. I turn my back . . .
he was simply engaging in an especially ornery
former is driven equally by talent; insufferable
The white man always wants you to smile, al-
form of special pleading. It is little wonder that
ego; obsessive, insular training and focus;
ways wants the black man to bow. I don’t
Davis emerged as a public figure at the same
blind confidence; self-destructive habits; and
smile, and I don’t bow. Ok? I’m here to play
time as novelist/essayist James Baldwin. De-
the abject fear of creative failure. Any sus-
music. I’m a musician.”iii These barks of artis-
spite the considerable differences between the
tained imbalance of these elements, a precar-
tic grouchiness, minor enough in most re-
two men, their upbringing, their temperament,
ious alchemy at best, will not produce anything
spects, were nearly revolutionary in the 1950s:
they served the same needs for both their black
but an artist who never realized or only dimly
first, Davis was insisting that as a black man he
and white publics—pride and racial break-
saw his or her gift, the stillborn genius or the
was entitled to be respected on his own terms
through for blacks, encounter and racial re-
anguished one-work wonder. Davis had his fair
for the performance of his craft; second, Davis
thinking for whites. (The two men were also
share of all these qualities and attributes, as
was insisting that being a musician, always a
alike in two important respects—they were
uncertainly poised as molecules in a volatile
suspect profession in the United States, was
small men with artistic bents who were the old-
formula. He played upon his strengths and
worthy of respect and was quite different from
est sons in their families.) Davis changed his
weaknesses and bedeviled his audience with
being an entertainer. (Davis had nothing per-
culture by changing how whites saw black
them for adulation as much as those strengths
sonal against entertainers and often went to
artists and how whites and blacks understood
and weaknesses played upon and bedeviled
see them perform. He just wanted to make it
jazz. He was not alone in doing this but he was
him. He was both feared and admired, and ad-
clear to the public that he was not one of
a major figure in transforming America.
mired for being feared as an imposing, tem-
them.) Davis never thought he was there to en-
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II
Having money has helped me once in a while, but I’m not looking for help. I’m even the one that’s the
helper, helping people by playing my music.
—Miles Davis, 1972 iv
What made Davis extraordinary was that by the
1. The music itself, as nearly every commenta-
which it was generated. Davis did this in Kind
end of the 1950s, he gave every impression to
tor has pointed out, was built on scales and not
of Blue without any sense of self-conscious-
the public of being a highly exploratory, prob-
chords, as was traditional for the jazz performer
ness that what was being done was new or the-
ing musician while never seeming at all outside
who needed chords (and fake books) as the
oretical, unlike Coleman, which is one reason
the mainstream of what jazz was becoming or
building blocks for solos. But what has been
why Davis’s album became so popular and be-
had become since World War II. The great
less noticed is that the intention of moving
came, not a signifier of the new or the revolu-
achievement of Kind of Blue was that it was an
away from chords was to free both the soloist
tionary, which would have dated it, but rather,
experimental record, experimental music, that
and the music itself from being over-deter-
more strikingly, a signifier of the hip and the
never seemed at all experimental. Ironically,
mined and predictable, to make the music
cool, which made it timeless.
what made the music seem so fresh and ap-
more spontaneous and instinctive and not a lot
pealing to listeners, even to people who dis-
of virtuosic strategizing about running through
2. Kind of Blue harkened back to Davis’s Birth
liked jazz, was that all of it seemed so familiar.
a set of chords; in short, to make jazz less bor-
of the Cool sessions of 1949 and 1950 in
The music never put you on the spot as a lis-
ing as instrumental music. This is exactly what
being a very self-aware collaboration between
tener by revealing your inadequacies to appre-
Ornette Coleman was doing in 1959 with his
black and white musicians, a stylistic and cul-
ciate it. This is usually how many of the most
album, The Shape of Jazz to Come, and with
tural fusion, in much the way his Columbia
significant artistic innovations have worked:
his controversial gig at the Five Spot the same
Records orchestral collaborations with arranger
the audience is taken somewhere it’s never
year, albeit with a different theory. The aim was
Gil Evans were. Clearly, white pianist Bill Evans
been while passing a lot of well-known
the same: to free the soloist and the music
was central to the concept and success of Kind
signposts. Kind of Blue was experimental in
from routine and to re-establish the rigors of
of Blue, which is why Columbia had him write
several ways:
creating improvisational composition by re-cre-
the liner notes, although he was upset in later
ating the conventions of the discipline within
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THE PLAZA, NYC, SEPTEMBER 1958
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years that he did not get as much credit for his
standard small group jazz album of the day
collaboration as he should have, especially
was. Kind of Blue was one of the few jazz
monetary and composer credit. (Composer
records of its time that had a sense of narra-
theft in jazz was quite commonplace. A musi-
tive, a cohesive inter-relation between the
cian had to watch his tunes as much as he did
tunes. It was a work, not a bunch of disparate
his money. Did Davis really write “Blue in
tunes used to pace a small group jazz album:
Green” or “Flamenco Sketches”? Did Davis re-
one fast-tempo piece, one ballad, one blues,
ally write “Nardis” or “Milestones”? We will
one or two standards, a bop-oriented original.
never really know for sure.) Davis himself over
The sense of the album as an organic whole
the years had mixed feelings about his collab-
added to its appeal.
orations with white musicians. In an interview with Nat Hentoff published in 1958, he said,
4. Kind of Blue, its sonic accessibility, its mod-
“Boy, I’ve sure learned a lot from Bill Evans.
erate-to-slow tempi, its inspired but tempered
He plays the piano the way it should be played.
performances, was an album that was tailor-
He plays all kinds of scales; can play in 5/4;
made for the Columbia House Record Club,
and all kinds of fantastic things. There’s such
started four years earlier (1955) as a way to
a difference between him and Red Garland
generate a mail order business for LPs. Here
whom I also like a lot. Red carries the rhythm,
was a jazz album that would appeal to both
but Bill underplays it, and I like that better.”v
Middle America as a kind of hip mood music as
In a 1973 interview, at a time when Davis
well as to jazz fans and purists as state-of-the-
spoke more harshly about whites and about
art, uncompromised jazz: non-commercial jazz
race, he said, “Let them [the critics] say it. I
for commercial or aspiring taste. Kind of Blue,
don’t care what they say. As long as I been
in other words, was one of those records, along
playing they never say I done anything. They
with Dave Brubeck’s Time Out, another Colum-
always say that some white guy did it.”vi But
bia jazz record released in 1959, that made
the blending of black and white jazz is key to
jazz a middlebrow music, a respectable music
the mystique of the album.
for middle-class, educated people who felt they
3. Kind of Blue would not have been possible
tant for Davis both commercially and artisti-
had refined taste. This was enormously impor-
if the LP did not exist. It was jazz conceived
cally for the rest of his career. As jazz ceased
for the record album, not only because of the
to be dance music, it needed middlebrow sta-
playing times of the tunes but also because of
tus in order to survive as art music. Davis was
how the album creates an overall mood. Kind
essential in making this transformation possible. NEWPORT, JULY 1958 Miles and Guests
of Blue is not simply a series of tracks as the
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III
Yeah, you have to come up through those ranks. They can always do that; but you don’t hear anybody doing that old shit with me. You know, some guys are still playing all that shit we did years ago, things I did with Bird and stuff; they’re still using those clichés and calling it jazz. Black guys as well as white guys. I hear it over and over again—shit I’ve even forgotten. —Miles Davis, 1972 vii
What drove Miles Davis? In part, the masculine
Davis’s contemporaries like Dizzy Gillespie,
sense of competition that always characterized
Chet Baker (the blonde bombshell, the James
the life of the working jazz musician who
Dean of jazz, who could also sing languid bal-
wanted more than just a gig at the corner bar.
lads), Shorty Rodgers, Maynard Ferguson, the
The jazz musician had to have his own voice,
teenage wonder, Lee Morgan, Booker Little,
survive jam sessions and cutting contests, tol-
Kenny Dorham, Donald Byrd, Freddie Hub-
erate long trips on the road and playing in un-
bard, and the ghost of the recently and tragi-
congenial, sub-standard venues, and endure
cally deceased Clifford Brown. By the end of
withering criticism from colleagues and critics
the 1950s, Davis eclipsed them all, had thor-
without being fazed by it. In short, a successful
oughly stamped the age of post-war jazz, had
jazz musician with a national reputation had to
made himself a leader in the way the other
be a fairly tough or fairly stoic s.o.b. (More so,
great trumpeters, indeed, other jazz musicians
if a woman.) For Davis in 1959, for instance,
of comparable skill, had not: as a virtuoso who
was surrounded by more living and working
did not have the skills of the virtuoso but had
jazz musicians than any comparable figure is
the virtuoso’s feelings, sense of flair for the
today, if only because jazz is less listened to
dramatic, sense of risk and brinksmanship. He
and less performed today and fewer people,
was also, by 1959, the hero and the villain of
from necessity, practice the craft as once did.
his own self-constructed myth: the bad, uncouth
But in the late 1950s, old heads from earlier eras were still around and still playing well and working regularly like Harry James and Henry
BIRDLAND, NYC, 1959
“Red” Allen. The great Louis Armstrong, the inventor of modern jazz trumpeting and modern jazz singing, had released two years earlier his “Musical Autobiography,” which revealed that Pops was still the master of the realm and remained an extraordinarily compelling soloist. There were Davis’s influences and teachers like Clark Terry, Roy Eldridge, Ray Nance, and Buck Clayton, still alive and kicking. There were
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black man and the brooding black genius. That
shocked the nation in the way no other racial
Pulitzer Prize in 1950 for Maud Martha,
he was able to do this as a black man was a
lynching had. The southern white reaction to
novelist Ralph Ellison won the National Book
sign of his will and a sign of the changing
the integration of Central High School in Little
Award for fiction in 1952 for Invisible Man,
times.
Rock outraged even Louis Armstrong, not
and playwright Lorraine Hansberry won the
The idea that the 1950s were some tran-
known for public expressions of militancy or
Drama Critics’ Circle Award in 1959 for A
quil time of We Like Ike and the white subur-
racial displeasure. Blacks were now actively
Raisin in the Sun. In other realms, Dorothy
ban pastoral, of the nuclear family and
and publicly protesting their second-class sta-
Dandridge was nominated for an Oscar for
traditional values, is largely a thought cliché. It
tus. But it was also the time of stunning
playing the title role in Carmen Jones (1955);
was more a time of jittery transition: a bloody
crossover for blacks as their talents for the first
singer Nat “King” Cole had a television show
three-year war in Korea that ended in a stale-
time were recognized by the guardians of high
(briefly); and blacks organized to have the tel-
mate opened the decade (and lasted nearly as
culture: poet Gwendolyn Brooks won the
evised version of the famous radio program
long as our time in World War II); McCarthyism cast a long shadow of fear, loathing, and mistrust over the land and made “un-American” a common expression in our language; Atomic bombs were tested in the desert as nuclear war seemed imminent; the Russians launched Sputnik in 1957 and started the space race; Fidel Castro seized Cuba in 1959 and for the next several years the United States tried unsuccessfully to assassinate him as it fought communism with a half-crazed foreign policy; and juvenile delinquency raged across the nation. Race relations began to change as both blacks and liberal whites challenged Jim Crow segregation and the state-sanctioned political and economic degradation of blacks. Just five years before Kind of Blue was recorded, the United States Supreme Court declared statesponsored segregation unconstitutional in Brown v. Topeka Board of Education. The Montgomery bus boycott of 1955-56 made Martin Luther King, Jr. a household name and was the beginning of the end of white southern privilege. The horrific murder of 14-year old Emmitt Till in 1955 galvanized blacks and
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54th PRECINCT, NYC, AUGUST 1959 Miles Davis with wife Frances Taylor
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“Amos and Andy” taken off the air. Miles Davis
Kind of Blue was recorded in two sessions:
i
T. S. Eliot, The Complete Poems and Plays,
emerged as a national figure during this time
March 2 and April 22, 1959. It was released
1909-1950, p. 145
as something like a militant race man but also
on August 17. A week later, on August 25,
ii
a firm integrationist. And he was never, fortu-
Davis was beaten and arrested by white New
ion: Four Decades of Commentary, (New York:
nately, a doctrinaire leftist but he shrewdly cul-
York City policemen while standing around in
Schirmer Books, 1996), p. 153
tivated an image of himself as something of an
front of the nightclub where he was playing,
iii
iconoclast who valued establishment, Playboy
enjoying a cigarette between sets, after escort-
ion: Four Decades of Commentary, p. 94
magazine-type ideas of masculine success: a
ing a white woman from the club to catch a
iv
nice home with modern art and more modern
cab. This made him an instant civil rights hero
ion: Four Decades of Commentary, p. 122
gadgets; lovely women as trophies; expensive,
and, as much as anything, legitimatized him
v
well-tailored clothes, and fast, foreign cars.
with blacks and with the young as something of
ion: Four Decades of Commentary, p. 89
Davis was always a man who was fascinated by
a rebel with a cause. That image of himself
vi
his own hunger, as he fascinated the public
may have been tarnished and a bit battered
ion: Four Decades of Commentary, p. 155
with how he fed his appetites and rages. He
over the years, but Davis was never to lose it.
vii
had no sentiment. He had no nostalgia. Noth-
GERALD EARLY, June 2008
ing he had done would ever be a reference for
Gerald Early is the Merle Kling Professor of Modern Letters at
what he would do: that was the definition of
Washington University in St. Louis. His liner notes have been nominated twice for Grammy Awards. He is currently the series
posed to be. Nothing more, nothing less.
editor for Best African American Essays and Best African American Fiction. Both volumes will debut in the spring of 2009.
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modernity and that was what jazz was sup-
➤
Gary Carner (ed.), The Miles Davis Compan-
Gary Carner (ed.), The Miles Davis Compan-
Gary Carner (ed.), The Miles Davis Compan-
Gary Carner (ed.), The Miles Davis Compan-
Gary Carner (ed.), The Miles Davis Compan-
Gary Carner (ed.), The Miles Davis Compan-
ion: Four Decades of Commentary, p. 120
BETWEEN THE TAKES ➤
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T
oday at Sony, an official re-
star cast of improvisers. The cool confidence
quest to review the reel-to-
of a star bandleader.
reel tapes from the typical,
To Miles and his men in 1959, Kind of
late ’50s session at 30th
Blue was another day at work. The closest we
Street Studio—Johnny Mathis
may come to witnessing such a melodic, mas-
or Doris Day, Duke Ellington
terpiece of a workday follows.
or Miles Davis—brings up boxes upon boxes of reels. But the Kind of Blue sessions hardly dented the tape budget. Three reels of Scotch 190, at the time a workhorse product of the recording industry, hold all that was recorded at those two historic dates in 1959. One reel is the assembled master, spliced together from two master session reels to create the original release of Kind of Blue in its familiar sequence. It is this reel from which successive editions of the album were created for almost forty years; despite the estimable shelf life of the tape brand, it was retired as splices fell apart and the tape began to deteriorate. Then there is a safety master from each of the sessions. It is on these two reels that one can hear what is normally dismissed as record-
ing detritus: a few false starts, a number of take breakdowns, and the studio chatter that took place when the record button was lit. It’s not much, but it reveals a lot. Beyond the mere novelty of hearing Miles Davis’s hoarse voice, much can be gleaned through focused listening: the innovative methods used to create the unusual styles and exceedingly simple structures on Kind of Blue. The analog recording process in the heyday of high-fidelity. The camaraderie and comedy shared by an all-
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FIRST SESSION—MARCH 2, 1959—2:30 PM FREDDIE FREELOADER – studio sequence 1
enough to bring even the most laid-back band-
Freeloader,” which effectively creates an en-
leader to a boil. Miles Davis’s short-fuse repu-
ergy-shifting buffer between the cycle of solos
tation was well established by 1959, yet from
and the closing theme of the tune.
Irving Townsend: The machine’s on . . .
the outset of the first of two sessions that
In choosing to first record “Freddie Free-
Miles Davis: Him, me, him, you . . .
yielded Kind of Blue, all seems easy-going and
loader” that afternoon (it would become the
IT: Here we go: CO 62290, no title, Take 1 . . .
. . . fun. Out of the public eye and in his
second track on Kind of Blue) Davis even
Unidentified: . . . B-flat on the end?
circle—among familiar sidemen and studio
seems mindful of his sidemen. It would be the
MD: Hey Wynton, after Cannonball, you play
staff—Davis was in his element. He and the
sole album track featuring Wynton Kelly, who
again and then we’ll come in and end it.
producer Irving Townsend share a laugh when
was then holding the piano chair in Davis’s
he moves a microphone, both Adderley and
group vacated the previous November by Bill
“Freddie Freeloader,” Take 1—Davis whistles
Townsend pointing out that maneuvering
Evans.
after the eighth bar, cutting off the take.
equipment in Columbia’s studio was exclusively a union responsibility.
Kelly had been informed of the recording session, but not that his predecessor was play-
MD: It was too fast.
ing on most of the tracks. “Wynton used to
IT: Miles, where you going to work now?
come to the gigs from Brooklyn by cab because
MD: Right here.
he couldn’t stand the subway,” Jimmy Cobb re-
IT: OK, ’cause if you move back we don’t get
members. “So he saw Bill sitting at the piano
you. You were right when you played before . . .
and was flabbergasted! He said, ‘Damn, I
MD: When I play I’m going to raise my horn a
rushed all the way over here and someone else
little bit. Can I move this down a little bit?
is sitting at the piano!’ I said, ‘Hold it before
(moves microphone)
you go off, you’re on the date too.’”
Cannonball Adderley: The union’s gonna bust
Whether to minimize Kelly’s time at the
you.
session, reassure him of his continuing posi-
IT: It’s against policy to move a microphone . . .
tion at Davis’s side, or both, Davis helped mat-
(laughs)
ters by calling on Kelly first. When the clock is
Fred Plaut: Just remain . . . (Townsend releases
ticking, a smart bandleader knows the value of
the talk-back button, cutting off the engineer’s
avoiding drama—or of fueling it, as Davis was
German-accented remark)
also wont to do.
IT: Here we go. Ready? Number 2 . . .
Davis’s dialogue also revealed a flexibility in restructuring music in the moment. As the
FREDDIE FREELOADER – false start
Between production budgets, the studio clock,
tape started rolling, Davis was caught instruct-
Take 3 of “Freddie Freeloader” makes it
technical snafus, and other unforeseen pres-
ing Wynton Kelly to return for one chorus after
through the familiar theme (loosely based on
sures, recording sessions can be intense
Cannonball Adderley’s statement on “Freddie
the melody of “Soft Winds”) and makes it into
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Wynton Kelly’s solo. Before the second chorus
muffled voice: . . . last 4 bars?
of the piano ends, Miles whistles off the take.
MD: No. Wait a minute . . . it’s the last 12 bars.
MD: Hey look Wynton, don’t play no chord
Chambers solos for one chorus, and the horns
going into the A-flat . . .
join in for the closing theme.
ing, he was all for it. This is the first time the only Insert take for “Freddie Freeloader” has been available.
SO WHAT – studio sequence 1 The door to the control room closes and foot-
Three points of interest here: first, even after
MD: All right?
the third take of “Freddie,” Miles is still tin-
IT: Yeah.
steps approach the talkback microphone.
kering, making small structural changes after
MD: Let’s hear a little bit of it.
IT: Here we go.
calling off the performance with a whistle
IT: Right.
MD: Wait a minute.
Yes, in the studio or on the stage, Davis fol-
MD: Wait one minute
rather than a shout (made necessary by the permanent damage he caused his vocal chords
IT: CO 62291, number 2, Take 1.
in 1955 after getting into a shouting match
lowed a “first idea, best idea” philosophy. He
Cannonball Adderley: One short second . . .
with a club manager).
once famously admonished George Coleman,
PC: Gimme a D, Bill.
Second, despite Davis’s general compul-
one of a string of renowned saxophone players,
sion to simplify harmonic rigidity using a modal
when he heard him practicing in his hotel
Bill Evans plays a note on the piano to help
approach on most of Kind of Blue, he was still
room; the bandleader wanted him to save his
Paul Chambers tune his bass, which he
a stickler for structural precision—willing to
freshest ideas for that night’s gig. Of more than
checks, playing with the bow.
call off a take as Kelly misses an unusual, but
30 albums in the Davis discography, Kind of
significant structural twist during his solo.
Blue is one of the strongest examples of that
Davis created “Freddie” as a 24-bar blues—
aesthetic.
rather than the standard 12-bar form—and he wanted that form followed.
IT: Number 2, Take 1.
Yet, that Davis felt the need to rerecord
Chambers plays the opening sequence to the
the closing theme of “Freddie” with the intent
“So What” prelude and Evans answers with a
And third, as a bandleader, Davis gave
of later splicing it onto the end of the first com-
series of haunting chords. A voice calls off the
minimum instruction. “He never told anyone
plete take (hence Townsend dubbed it an “In-
take in the studio.
what to play but would say, ‘Man, you don’t
sert”) shows Davis also felt a priority in the
need to do that,’” Adderley recalled in a 1972
final product. He was never the purist—neither
radio interview. “Miles really told everybody
in jazz styles nor record making. Tape splicing
what not to do. I heard him and dug it.”
created almost all of the tracks on Miles Ahead, his first collaboration with Gil Evans,
FREDDIE FREELOADER – studio sequence 2
all the lonelier on Kind of Blue (an echo cham-
IT: Here we go. This is Insert 1, Take 1
Street Studio). Synthesizers and MIDI technol-
Sound of finger-snapping
thirty years later. If it created a better record-
in 1957. Echo made his lonely trumpet sound
ber had been built into the basement at 30th
ogy helped Davis update the sound of fusion
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IT: Start again please.
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With deliberate focus and at an even more lan-
IT: Watch the snare too—we’re picking up
guid tempo than the released take, Evans and
some of the vibrations on it.
That Davis answers Townsend’s chiding about studio noise certainly stems from a need
Chambers played the “So What” prelude. The
MD: Well that goes with it.
to respond with wit or feigned challenge. But
bassist ended the section with a long, low note
IT: What?
what a perfect and revealing reply: One need
that edged toward distortion (begging the ques-
MD: All that goes with it.
only think of Davis’s embracing of electronics
tion why Townsend did not halt the take at this
IT: All right (chuckles)—not all the other noises
in the ’60s, and rhythmic layering in the ’70s,
point). Chambers played the familiar “So
though . . . Take 2.
to know Davis was not one to pass up the
What” theme, Evans added punctuation, and
chance to exploit an unexpected sound or mu-
as they completed the first chorus the rustle of
By 1959, the relationship between producer
paper is heard.
and artist was rapidly moving away from the former in total charge, determining all (song
SO WHAT – studio sequence 2
IT: Hold it . . . sorry . . . listen, we gotta watch
selection, final takes) to a more equal-minded
The final take of “So What” ends somewhat
sical flavor.
it because if there’s noise all the way through
approach. Instructions were no longer simply
jaggedly; a gentle fade out was eventually used
this. This is so quiet to begin with, that every
barked from control room to studio. Producers
on the album.
click sounds . . .
were becoming careful to make decisions
MD: (unintelligible, to a sideman)
jointly and to speak more as a partner over the
CA: (singing) With a sooong in my heart . . .
Unidentified: All right . . .
talkback.
Probably PC: (singing the “So What” theme)
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Dik-dik-du-gong . . . dit-dit . . .
IT: CO 62292—Number 3, Take 1
tained meeting of Davis and Evans, the two ar-
The take ends almost immediately. Evans ab-
chitects behind Kind of Blue. At the last
Why Adderley chose a Rodgers and Hart com-
breviates the introduction, leading to a brief
minute,
position with which to express himself, and
confirmation of the form.
the
bandleader
informs
John
Coltrane—whose talent at imbuing a downtempo ballad with heart-breaking delicacy was
dispel the sobriety of “So What,” who knows? Perhaps a certain melodic or harmonic similar-
Bill Evans: We better do that again . . .
then gaining renown—that he should play as
ity between the two triggered the choice. Per-
PC: Can we start on the last four bars?
well. Note Davis’s standard protocol: he
haps it was simply Adderley’s sense of humor:
BE: That’s what I thought . . .
informs the producer first, then asks, or rather
juxtaposing the old and the new—a slightly
MD: Last four bars, but then you repeat it.
tells Coltrane to play on the tune.
mushy lyric (With a song in my heart/I behold
BE: Oh, do it twice.
your adorable face/Just a song at the start/But
MD: So it’s eight.
it soon is a hymn to your grace) with the hip,
BE: All right . . .
• In 1986, keyboardist and journalist Ben Sidran asked Davis about Kind of Blue: “Does the success of that record surprise you, Miles?
bittersweet elegance of “So What.” Speaking of hip: how finger-snappingly
Finger snaps
It seems to have been such a simple record in a lot of ways.” “Not back then,” Davis replied.
effective is the primary theme to “So What”? It is certainly the most instantly recognized
IT: Take 2
“Because Bill Evans, his approach to the piano brought that . . . out. He used to bring me
melody on Kind of Blue—and arguably one of the most easily recalled in modern jazz. It’s
Evans plays the introduction, and Miles’s
pieces by Ravel . . . and Bill used to tell me
easy-going yet strong enough to leave its im-
muted trumpet is heard as Cobb starts playing
about different modes, which I already knew.”
print no matter the fidelity: a high quality stu-
the snare, using only one brush to achieve a
dio recording, a whistle heard from a passing
lighter feel than normal. Chambers hits a
It seemed to require effort at times, but Davis
stranger.
wrong note and the take breaks down.
never denied Evans’s contribution to, or the collaborative heart of Kind of Blue. Nowhere is
The voice singing the theme probably belongs to Chambers, who, after playing it for
Unintelligible studio chatter
their teamwork more evident than in the rampup to the final take of “Blue in Green.” Evans
the first time, apparently could not get it out of his head—the magical, melodic quality every
MD: Use both hands, Jimmy.
took an active role for the first time during the
songwriter strives to create.
Jimmy Cobb: Huh?
session as the two speak and work out the
MD: Just use both hands and play it the best
structure of the tune.
BLUE IN GREEN – studio sequence
way you can. You know, it’ll be all right.
IT: Just you four guys on this, right Miles?
There’s a wealth of details evident in the
“Blue in Green” Davis’s instruction was
MD: Five . . . No, you play.
dialogue preceding the last tune that day:
simple. “I want a floating sound.” Uhhh, OK.
• Jimmy Cobb remembers when recording
Cobb’s response was to try a one-handed apFaintly perceptible in the background is
• As Townsend’s question seems to suggest,
proach to the brushes. After hearing the result,
Evans’s voice, directing the structure of the
“Blue in Green” may have been originally in-
Davis urged him to play the brushes normally.
tune.
tended as a quartet performance—a more con-
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SECOND SESSION—APRIL 22, 1959—2:30 PM FLAMENCO SKETCHES – studio sequence 1
produced music for Kind of Blue. The feeling
later—laughs and repeats his line. Not a high
must have been infectious. In reference to
point of improvised comedy, but an amusing
Davis insisting on keeping the rattle from the
snapshot of the bonhomie often in play at
CA: Damn thing, right?
open snare on “So What” at the last session,
Davis’s sessions back then.
MD: Hey Cannon . . .
Townsend announced (or “slated” as its known in studio parlance) the first take of the after-
FLAMENCO SKETCHES – studio sequence 2
Studio chatter and bass playing is heard.
noon as “Surface Noise.”
IT: Take 2.
out to Adderley that his chair would make a
MD: Wait a minute Irving . . . wait.
noise if he stood up during the take, to which
MD: Let’s try it again Irving.
IT: OK.
the alto saxophonist responded with a zinger
IT: Ready . . . Take 5, Miles.
MD: (to CA) Hey when you raise up off the stool
that made Davis chuckle, who then baited
man you get . . . oh yeah! (laughter)
Townsend by complaining about the studio
At the first modal transition, Evans comes in
MD: (to IT) You know your floor squeaks, you
floor squeaking. The producer acknowledged
early.
know. You know what I mean? Can you hear
the ribbing, as Adderley dismissed the con-
The good humor persisted: Davis pointed
Miles cuts off Take 4 with a long trill.
me?
cern, calling it “surface noise.” Unable to re-
MD: You’re not watching, Bill.
IT: Yeah!
sist a quick pun, Evans chimes in with his own
BE: I know. I’m sorry.
Unidentified: unintelligible
General laughter.
zinger and Coltrane mimics Davis’s contention
MD: Try it again Irving.
that any studio noise is part of the perform-
IT: Right, 6!
ance. Adderley—catching Evans’s pun a beat
MD: Let’s go! CA: That’s surface noise you know.
PC wipes bass.
BE: . . . surf-ass noise. JC: It’s all part of the tune, man. CA: (laughs) Surf-ASS noise! IT: Here we go. Take 2 . . .
The members of the Miles Davis group arrived in jolly spirits for the second session that
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ALL BLUES – studio sequence Unidentified: Ssshhhhooooooo! Probably PC: (panting) Damn that’s a hard mother! BE: Boy, if I didn’t have coffee . . . IT: What?
At 11:36, “All Blues” was the longest performance on Kind of Blue. After struggling a bit with “Flamenco Sketches” at the start of the session, recording two nine-and-a-half minute “Flamenco Sketches” was one of two highly
takes of the tune, and then “All Blues”? If the
unusual musical structures on Kind of Blue
session had not been over, it would have been
(the other being the 10-bar circular form of
time for a serious break.
“Blue in Green”). Amazingly, the sextet pro-
As easy-rolling as “All Blues” may sound,
duces a relatively smooth, complete take on
the discomfort of repeatedly playing the same
the first try. Convinced they can do better,
musical phrase—even for veteran musicians—
Davis directed the group through a few more
became apparent as the tune ends. Fingers
attempts before nailing the final master with
and lips finally relaxed. One musician breathed
Take 6.
an exaggerated sigh of relief, Chambers panted
Essentially a series of five harmonies—
like a dog and used one of Davis’s favorite
with no opening or closing theme—“Sketches”
terms to describe the tune. Evans noted the
relied heavily on the roles of the pianist and
performance-enhancing effect of caffeine.
bassist to define structure and guide solos. Ap-
One other indicator of the unusual length
parently, this was accomplished visually as well
of the tune is discernible in the liquid rasp of
as musically, the soloists signaling as they
Davis’s trumpet. It had been awhile since he
switched from one mode to another. At one
had the opportunity to clear the instrument’s
point before Take 3, Chambers commented “I
spit-valve. Even that—as the maestro would
forgot—I thought I could close my eyes . . .”
say—goes with it.
and Take 5 ended as Evans anticipated Davis’s
ASHLEY KAHN, JUNE 2008
first transition early while not looking at the
Ashley Kahn is a music journalist and author of Kind of Blue:
trumpeter. Davis chided Evans, who apologized,
The Making of the Miles Davis Masterpiece, and other books on jazz. His voice is often heard on NPR’s Morning Edition.
and the next take proved to be the master.
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PHOTOGRAPHY: cover, pages 6, 11: © Chuck Stewart; pages 5, 12-13, 15: Don Hunstein/Sony Archives; page 7: Vernon Smith; page 9: Beuford Smith/Cesaire; page 10: Vincent Lopez, New York Journal – American Collection, Harry Ransom Humanities Research Center, University of Texas; pages 14, 16, 18-19: Teo Macero Collection: Music Division, The New York Public Library for the Performing Arts, Astor, Lenox and Tilden Foundations
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