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Those of you who own the album Cookin' With The Miles Davis
Quintet know, from reading the back liner that they recorded nineteen
other extended tracks at the sessions which produced the five numbers heard on
Cookin'.
On that same liner, I stated that the Miles Davis Quintet was, to
me and many others, the group in modern jazz but that they had broken up in the
spring of 1957.
Since the disbanding Miles has fronted three different groups. In
the summer of 1957, retaining Red Garland and Paul Chambers, he completed the
personnel with Sonny Rollins and Arthur Taylor. It was not that each musician
was not wonderful but Rollins was not contributing to the group feeling; he was
longing for one of his own where he could express himself the way he wanted to.
In the fall Miles re-organized once more. Bobby Jaspar, on tenor
and flute, replaced Rollins, Tommy Flanagan was at the piano bench instead of
Garland and Philly Joe returned in place of Taylor. Again there were better
than good performances but not the Miles Davis Quintet. Jaspar, a more than
capable tenorman, did not fit with the spirit of the group. The flute furthered
this difference.
When Miles returned from a concert tour in which Julian Adderley's
alto supplanted Jaspar's tenor, he reformed the original quintet for a January
1958 engagement, as Garland and John Coltrane re-entered the fold, but swelled
the group to sextet size by retaining Adderley. Cannonball is a case of another
fine musician, separate from either Rollins or Jaspar, who does not fit with
the Miles Davis group. Then again, it has not been a long association for him
and Coltrane certainly didn't belong with Miles when he first joined the group.
This, however, was due to undeveloped skills rather than lack of coinciding
musical temperament. Rollins could have fit easily if he so chose; Jaspar,
however modern, is in another idiom and Adderley is of yet another persuasion.
How long the sextet, or quintet, if it should revert to that
number, will stay intact is purely speculative at this writing. On this depends
whether the group will recapture and maintain the consistent brilliance they
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were radiating during 1956. Coltrane, further enriched by the
experience of playing with Thelonious Monk during the summer of 1957, has
increased both his immediate importance and his potential; the rhythm section
has not lost any of its skill, imagination or fire; Miles, is as before, a
probing, sensitive, lyrical musician who does stagnate from month to month.
Miles is a jazzman of many sides. Others imitate him as they do
Bird, another fellow who had a couple or three facets to his playing, and in
both cases they usually get only one aspect. Miles may be a "man walking on
eggshells" but he is also a diamond cutting into opaque glass. He combines, in
his astute grasp, all the important elements that make for personal, memorable
jazz as expertly as the group's individuals have molded their separate talents
into one pulsing whole.
This set is called Relaxin' because of the ballad
performances in several different tempos, usual-ballad, medium and up, which
flow along in an unimpeded manner. There are also the incisive swingers; Sonny
Rollins' Oleo (done previously by Miles and Sonny in Prestige 7109, Miles
Davis And The Modern Jazz Giants) and Dizzy Gillespie's Woody'n You.
Although this session was recorded in a studio, the tunes were
done in the immediate succession of a nightclub-type set and there were no
second takes. There is a false start on You're My Everything and you
will hear Miles' instructions to Red Garland before the complete performance of
the tune. In other instances on this record, Miles addresses the group,
exchanges communications with engineer Rudy Van Gelder, jokes with Bob
Weinstock, etc. These comments make this recording a bit more personal and you
are thereish.
Before a note is played Miles says to Bob Weinstock, "I'll play it
and tell you what it is later." Of course, you know that it is If I Were A
Bell. Red Garland, who introduced it into the group, has done it a trio
version (Prestige 7086). Miles is muted here, as he is throughout the album,
excepting Woody'n You, and extremely eloquent. Coltrane is singing, and,
like a bell, swinging. Garland's extended solo is another gem.
You're My Everything is done in ballad tempo by Miles and
Trane with rich block-chords by Red setting
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the mood. The nuances by the rhythm section lend a welcome
vitality.
For joyous, straight-ahead swinging and melodic improvisation, I
Could Write A Book speaks several volumes. As in If I Were A Bell,
Miles opens and closes; Trane and Red appear in between.
The three take turns in stating the theme of Oleo, an
original that has become almost de rigeur for all Davis in-person
appearances. Miles, in his two choruses, is backed by Chambers except on the
bridges when the entire rhythm section swings into action. This is observed in
Coltrane's first chorus but beginning with the second, the full trio works
behind him until near the end of his final one. With Garland's solo the
laying-out pattern is invoked again by Jones. Chambers is a rock on this,
Philly's brushes are lightning and Coltrane is at his driving best. Miles'
sure-footed tightrope walking leads back to the platform of the theme.
It Could Happen To You returns us to the lilting, swinging
groove with Miles stating and embellishing the melody -- Trane and Red in
extremely exemplary solos on the rise and fall of the rhythm section's tide.
Woody'n You, one of the most misspelled titles in jazz (it
was written by Dizzy for Woody Herman who used to play it behind tap dancers
but never recorded it), is one of the great modern jazz standards. The
performance here is a high-water mark which combines intense drive with the
great harmonic interest that the chord changes generate. Miles is searing and
searching-finding. Coltrane, spurred on by the utilitarian absence and presence
of Garland plus the general dynamics of the rhythm section, reaches the heights
too. There is a story-telling, half-chorus drum solo by Philly Joe, after
Miles' second entrance, that precedes the final chorus. Miles' arrangement
leading back into the original melody in the lest eight bars is simple and
beautiful.
At the end we hear Miles say, "Okay?" and Bob Weinstock, in jest,
tells him to, "do that one over." Miles asks, "Why?" but Coltrane, unconcerned,
looks for the beer opener.
notes by IRA GITLER
supervision by Bob Weinstock
recording by Van Gelder
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