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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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