Miles Davis, family, and bending for the common good
October 5th, 2009
Many of you know that I have developed quite a passion for vinyl records. There is so much to love about vinyl — the warm sound, the artwork and inserts, the patience it requires, etc. I should probably write an “I love vinyl” post at some point, but this isn’t it. This post is about a specific album I recently bought, and how it is really challenging me on so many levels.
When it comes to jazz music, it doesn’t get much better than Miles Davis’s “Kind of Blue” album. It is almost cliche to talk about it as the “quintessential jazz album,” but it really is. For some reason I’ve been holding out on getting the 200g vinyl re-issue of this amazing album, but this weekend I went ahead and bought it. Partly because of its greatness, and partly because I needed to introduce my 2-week old baby girl to jazz music, and I couldn’t think of a better album to do that with. And it sounds absolutely brilliant. Magical.
What makes this album so remarkable is how loose yet completely structured it sounds. Consider this from Bill Evans’s liner notes:
Miles conceived these settings only hours before the recording dates and arrived with sketches which indicated to the group what was to be played. Therefore, you will hear something close to pure spontaneity in these performances. The group had never played these pieces prior to the recordings and I think without exception the first complete performance of each was a “take.”
Despite the fact that almost the entire album is improvised, you get a sense of community when you listen to it. Here you have brilliant musicians, completely in tune with each other, loving what they do, and playing with a precision that leaves you speechless.
It reminds me of something Donald Miller wrote in one of my favorite books, Blue Like Jazz: Nonreligious Thoughts on Christian Spirituality. In the introduction, he explains his initial feelings about jazz music, and how his mind was changed:
I never liked jazz music because jazz music doesn’t resolve. But I was outside the Baghdad Theatre one night when I saw a man playing the saxophone. I stood there for fifteen minutes and he never opened his eyes. After that I liked jazz music. Sometimes you have to watch somebody love something before you can love it yourself. It is as if they are showing you the way.
And that is the magic of this album. You feel like you are there, watching these musicians loving what they do, and doing it so well.
One of the great things about these older records is the artwork, as well as the liner notes. The liner notes are usually written in grandiose language, soaring rhetoric that aims to sweep you away along with the music. And Bill Evans’s liner notes on “Kind of Blue” is no exception. There is one part in particular that caught my attention:
Group improvisation is a further challenge. Aside from the weighty technical problem of collective coherent thinking, there is the very human, even social need for sympathy from all members to bend for the common result. This most difficult problem, I think, is beautifully met and solved on this recording.
And this is where I finally get to the point in this rather drawn-out post. The need for sympathy from all members to bend for the common result. Maybe that is the biggest lesson we can learn from jazz music. That no man is an island. That we are in this together. That sometimes, we all need to bend a little bit for the common result. And when that happens, the result can be nothing short of miraculous. The next time I am tempted to get frustrated because I am unable to stop my baby girl from crying, I need to remember that it’s not about me. And that if I bend a little from my selfish ways, the common result will be that my daughter will feel loved. And there is probably no better outcome than that.
And just so you know I wasn’t kidding about introducing my daughter to jazz music, here is proof:
Dan Erickson October 6th, 2009 at 12:34 pm
Annie and I were talking about jazz and unselfishness this morning, and how what has been appealing to me in music lately has been the way individual musicians step aside for the sake of the music. I’ve heard it in the B.B. King Jamming album (some of the tracks he hardly plays at all) and especially in a couple of live performances in Pretoria by Freddy Arendse and his friends. Watching great musicians encourage and appreciate each other as they play almost transcends the music itself- it’s like hearing the relationships.
Rian October 6th, 2009 at 1:18 pm
So funny how you guys were talking about the same thing! Another great example of this unselfishness in music is Sting’s “Mercury Falling”, in my opinion. No one overplays. Everyone plays their part, plays it well, and they are just content to let the music tell the story. That’s where the magic happens.
Annie October 8th, 2009 at 11:33 am
Blue Like Jazz shattered my worldview and completely changed my Christianity… for the better, I hope.
And I agree with you and Dan – there’s something magical when musicians come together without arrogance, each bringing their gifts to the table, so to speak, and what they produce together is greater than what any of them could have done on their own. Am I making any sense?
Ray Charles’ “Duets” album is like that – each artist meets Ray Charles halfway (and vise versa), and what they come up with is incredible. No competition, no divas. Just musicians who truly love music and appreciate the gifts of a fellow artist.
Rian October 8th, 2009 at 6:58 pm
It makes total sense! Music, when it’s done right, always makes you feel less lonely and part of something bigger.
Yes, Blue Like Jazz is great. Also try Velvet Elvis if you haven’t yet. That’s another one that really got to me.
Annie October 9th, 2009 at 12:13 pm
We have that book as well.