And the studio was covered by velvet rugs
CD Review with Miles Davis and John Coltrane - "Kind of Blue"
Kevin Celebi
By this point, it's not a matter of whether or not somebody has Kind of Blue, but at what age he or she got it. "Did you get it for your birthday?" "Did you buy it at the record store when you were six years old?" There are millions of stories surrounding this record and each of its millions of purchases, and yes, that number is justified. I got this album as a birthday present a whopping six times (it seems to make a good gift), but never actually understood it from a musical standpoint until recently. Before that, however, I indeed was allured by its heavy swing and mellow atmosphere (when playing this at night, I never made it past "So What" before falling asleep).
The playing of "Kind of Blue" will evoke a glad clamor among whatever atmosphere it is lighting up because of the brilliance of its compositions, predominant musical ambiance, and the perfection of its musicians. The perfect mix of the sound (a good amount of reverb and intimacy) evokes the feeling of the studio being a massive, grand hall with big oaken doors, the consummate swinging by Paul Chambers inviting visitors to stride right in. The end of the hall is the hearth, the warmth of the lush voicings and elegant playing of Bill Evans, and the candles set in tall wooden sticks represent the light and flickering drumming by Jimmy Cobb. The laughing and chattering of the hall's guests is the buoyant and brilliant playing of soul-jazz specialist Cannonball Adderley. The throng of weary but profoundly strong soldiers triumphing into the hall after battle is the strength of John Coltrane, never ceasing his musical journey and not one note daunted by the modal challenges of Davis and Evans. The short side-path that leads to the blues garden is the cameo by special guest blues specialist Wynton Kelly. Finally, the entwining curtains hanging from the stained-glass windows are the meaningful, deep and intense musical weavings of Davis himself. Come stay awhile and partake in the feast.
"So What," kick-started ominously by Evans and Chambers, leads into probably jazz's most recognizable melody. Aside from its obvious catchiness, So What shocked the jazz world into listening to a song with only two chords, both based on the Dorian mode. Miles, thankfully, approaches the new landscape humbly, telling a story with his solo and reaching a chilling climax with his second chorus (how on earth did his statement of the ninth coincide perfectly with the matching accompaniment from Evans and Chambers on the same beat?). Trane weaves some tapestries himself, being in full "sheets of sound" mode, and Adderley has a ball with the freedom, playing possibly jazz's best lick at 6:17. There wasn't enough time to give Evans a full-blown solo, but he chords his way through a halfhearted solo with melody statements from the horns. It's only the beginning.
The token "hit" of the record, if it's not So What, has to be "Freddie Freeloader". It's an addictive melody coupled with a hard swing in four, and the guy it depicts must have been a relatively sneaky freeloader. Wynton Kelly wasn't very happy to see the pianist he replaced (Evans) at the studio, but perhaps this goaded him into his smoking, incendiary solo over the blues, perfect with blue notes, grace notes, Lydian dominant accents, and his impeccable use of block chords to milk the song for all the grease it has. Miles keeps up the bluesy mood with his smears and perfect swing, Trane breaks the bluesy mood completely with his lighting of a wildfire in the studio (mind you, it still sounds amazing), and Adderley shines light through the door with his incredibly bright tone and use of the Lydian dominant mode. It's a blues, but it feels like so much more than that - can the blues be groundbreaking? In the hands of these musicians, it apparently was.
Blue in Green (like most of the album's music), was by Evans and stolen by Miles. Adderley lays out for this one and Davis pops in his beloved vehicle, the shimmering harmon mute. The melody's structure is built upon minor chords and ii-V7-I's, almost akin to what Charlie Parker would have done if his music was slowed down by about four times. This is Evans' turn to shine, as he pours a red glow into the pot and starts a warm, kindling fire - he really makes it obvious that he wrote the composition with his ease of navigating its changes. Trane, as much as he was revered for being the explosive, freakish master of the tenor saxophone's quirks, had the most beautiful tone to grace the instrument, and he adds to Evans' fire with some musical tales of his own.
"All Blues" was Davis' attempt to capture African dancers' use of finger drums: the tremolo effect used by Evans was the closest they could get to it. It's a 6/8 rendition of the blues, and as Miles sometimes said, it was "Milestones slowed down." Not sure what he meant by that remark since Milestones is as far as you can get from the blues - but "All Blues" is indelibly "cool" - especially at the turnaround with the diminished whole tone chord. The melody is stated with a harmon, but Miles pops it out for his solo, in which he refuses to blaze any fires, but merely delicately traces along the framework with a bunch of tonics. Next is Adderley, who digs some logs out from the hall's storage: he would need them for the fire that he would indeed light in the middle of the room. He especially has fun with the aforementioned "cool" turnaround. Trane takes the logs of Adderley's fiery solo and stomps them out with his sheets of sound, in the process burning his own solo and daring the next soloist, Evans, to extinguish it. Evans indeed does extinguish it with his delicacy, for his improvisational fire was a magic fire, and its charms (especially the right hand harmony) were sources of unspeakable power. It's no "Freddie Freeloader," but it doesn't need to be - it's a different kind of blues. Kind of Blues? I think I'm getting to the record's title, finally.
Last but not least is another stretch of music that Miles ripped off from Evans, who uses his famous "Peace Piece" vamp to lead into "Flamenco Sketches." They decided, instead of remaining with the gorgeous C major mode, that they'd also add a few other modes in there as well, namely, Ab Sus4, Bb Maj7, D Phrygian, and G Dorian. The cycle makes absolutely no sense, but they greatly aid the sextet in what they were doing (without trying) - revolutionizing music with respect for diatonic beauty. Miles uses harmon to great effect, telling his tale carefully and fully - and for once, Coltrane doesn't use his sheets of sound approach, instead playing a solo that, until this point, was better than anything he had ever played, each note carefully chosen and the vibrato emphasizing its meaning. Adderley takes the torch and is almost laughing at his newfound freedom - it has been said before that he sounds like he is struggling, trying to play bop lines in the modal territory - but to me it sounds like he is giddy without the confines of chordal resolution, and he embraces the flatted ninths of the flamenco chord. Finally, it should only be fitting that the last solo of the album goes to the mastermind behind all of its compositions, as Evans brings back his red glow from "Blue in Green" and wows the rest of the musicians with his fleet, gliding approach, everyone basking in the warmth of his fire. Such a magisterial album could only be closed by the crystalline flights of notes trickling from Evans' fingertips.
In terms of alternate takes, there is one of Flamenco Sketches; but to this listener, Kind of Blue is an untouchable suite that needs no alternate takes nor should ever be adorned with any. The sequencing of its original music is perfect and stands tall on its own; however, the silver lining is that this alternate take is only a mirror of the album's closer, so it could be considered an extension of the finale. The album can be purchased as its own (it's so owned that it could be bought for probably three cents these days) but, for lovers of the genius of John Coltrane (and who isn't in that crowd?) the music is better when included in the boxed set of Miles Davis and John Coltrane on Columbia, which also includes a live gig by this very sextet at the Plaza.
A very fair hall that this sextet built, one with fire-flickers dancing upon the ceiling and walls and the occasional deep shadows looming in the corner. Kind of Blue deserves every single purchase and every single (sometimes disgustingly slavish) word of praise, it is the Michael Jordan, the Shakespeare, the Pablo Picasso of jazz. The great hearth will warm the ears of all listeners and they'll never want to leave the ambiance of such a great entrance room.
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