Miles Davis-Milestones

Recorded in 1958, prior to the more famous and revered Kind of Blue, Miles Davis' album Milestones is a masterpiece. The first go for his famous sextet of Davis on Trumpet, John Coltrane on Tenor, Cannonball Adderley on Alto, Red Garland on Piano, Paul Chambers on Bass, and Philly Joe Jones on Drums, this album rips from the opening Dr. Jackle to the concluding rendition of Thelonious Monk’s Staight, No Chaser. Even more extraordinary is that the entire album was recorded in two days: April 2-3, 1958. At this juncture in his career, Davis is in firm control of the cool, modal sound he developed as a leader over the preceding years, ready to cast it permanently in the modern, post-bop, jazz idiom with the release of Kind of Blue the following year. However, the significance of Milestones must not be overlooked. Coltrane’s “sheets of sound” is heard as his developing, signature style which will soon take him away from Davis into his own leadership role. Particularly, listen to his solo on Monk’s Straight, No Chaser (second sax on the piece). A brilliant scream of a solo. Two days! Imagine today’s players, whether in jazz, rock, soul or whatever, stepping into the studio, laying out the charts, and firing off a classic in two days. Perhaps therein lies the problem. It is often said that the studio lacks the spontaneity of the “live” recording, but how can spontaneity thrive under the techno, digital microscope of today’s recording process? More deference should be given to the creative force of the musician and trust the outcome will make the desired, artistic connection with the public. You can’t manufacture this stuff. It has to pour directly from the soul.

Brad Mehldau-The Art of the Trio, Vol. 4, Back at the Vanguard

I find it irresistable to touch upon some of my true favorites in the infancy of this evolving Blog. That being said, the music of Brad Mehldau must be addressed. Rising up in the 1990's with a firm grasp on the piano trio, he was wrongly pegged a linear disciple of Bill Evans. While the purity of Evans' talent is indisputable, Mehldau's creative brilliance is fed by many influences, including, but certainly not limited to, Evans. Perhaps I was initially drawn to his shared love of the music of Radiohead. However, once I worked past that portion of his catalogue, I discovered an original voice who I feel compelled to pass on to all those willing to open up and listen. His Art of the Trio recordings are a great place to fully understand his development as a composer and interpreter of standards and pop/rock songs. The Art of the Trio, Vol. 4, Back at the Vanguard, was recorded at the Village Vanguard in in January of 1999, where he was backed by his longstanding rhythm section of Larry Grenadier on bass and Jorge Rossy on drums. The music is subperb, engulfing the listener with Mehldau's unique takes on selected covers and several original compositions with the trio flawlessly communicating throughout the entire set. Although the record was recorded over a series of dates during a week's residency at the Vanguard, the final product presents itself as a complete show. There are no contrived points to the performance. In particular, the original Sehnsucht and Radiohead's Exit Music (For a Film) are exquisite. His live perfomance is not to be missed.

Bill Frisell's East/West

As noted in an earlier post, much of my recent listening has focused on the music of Bill Frisell. Unlike most contemporary jazz guitarists, Frisell does not shy away from the technical gadgets available to players today. In fact, a quick listen to his music reveals a total embrace of the artistic possibilities available with the electronic manipulation of the instrument. This disc was recorded live on two dates within six (6) months of one another (December, 2003-May, 2004). One date in New York (Village Vanguard), and the second in California (Yoshi's). It is a terrific starting point for those unfamiliar with his music. Within the trio setting (different rhythm section for each appearance), he delves into standards, pop/rock classics and originals with a unique sound, embracing the options the gadgets (signal processors, loop pedal, etc.) offer, he creates a unique tonal landscape within which he manipulates the melody. However, here's the kicker: the music is tremendously accessible---not the ambiant free-for-all you might imagine. In particular, his beautiful renderings of the traditional Shenandoah and Dylan's A Hard Rain's A-Gonna Fall are almost perfect. Similar to pianist Brad Mehldau, Frisell never loses sight of the melody, always returning home to the original thought after taking luxurious sonic strolls above the suble, yet firm, rhythm section. This is superb headphone music, enabling the soft, intricate sounds to wash over you.

John Coltrane's After The Rain

I have immersed myself as of late into the music of guitarist Bill Frisell. His ability to transform timeless standards such as Shenandoah and I Heard It Through The Grapevine into his own unique interpretations is both appealing and quite powerful. At least to these ears. He recently teamed up with drummer, pianist, and composer Jack DeJohnette on the album The Elephant Sleeps But Still Remembers. I'm still processing the complex beauty of this work, but felt I had to comment on the disc's final song, After The Rain. Previously performed, and made famous, by its composer, John Coltrane, on his Impressions album, I scrolled up to the C's on my artist list and listened, for the hundreth time, to the song. It's beauty is overwhelming. More significantly though, is the purity of the melody in it's interpretation of the piece's title. Listening to it, preferably with headphones, gives the distinct impression of what it sounds like after it rains. That is, sitting on a deck, dock, patio, or in a car at the station, and the rain has stopped and the greens are all shiny with mist, reflecting off of one another. This does "sound" like something and Coltrane, in his great artistry, captured it. The beauty and wonder of a genius and his instrument is his ability to interpret a scenerio as simple as the dew on a leaf through the notes of a song without a single word spoken. I will address Frisell's take on this piece at another time, but I think it vital to experience the original in all its wonder before stepping any further.

Thom Yorke's The Eraser

Although most of my writings on music to date have focused on the music of John Coltrane, I find myself drawn to the new disc by Thom Yorke in my initial posting. This is probably dependent on the fact that I just purchased it and it has received heavy listening over the past two days. My draw to The Eraser is due to my love of Radiohead, Mr. Yorke's band (not quite his band--if ever there was a collective of musicians struggling toward a common artistic goal...that's for another posting) whose catalogue of music should be purchased in full by anyone unfamiliar with it; for each disc, from the early, guitar driven Pablo Honey through the majestic OK Computer to the ambiant driven Amensiac, Kid A, and Hail to the Thief, offers a segment of Radiohead's artistry and creative genius. I first listened to The Eraser full tilt in my car riding home from work. I liked it. But, something told me that a closer listen was immediately in order, so I clip on my Ipod, got on my bike, and rode through the hills near my home for an hour, taking in the music through the intimacy of the headphones and downhill wind. The music wrapped around me and flowed through my spirit. In particular, the songs And It Rained All Night and Black Swan. I clicked and ticked with the electronic persussive beat and rose the hills to the plaintive cry of Mr. Yorke. His lyrics need time to digest, especially with myself (known to be lyrically-challenged by those close to me), but I fathom that certain phrases will soon enter the lexicon of my subconscious.