The staggering catalog of works and audio recordings of American jazz trumpeter and composer Miles Davis (1926-1991) represent an amalgamation of musical styles: from the Cool Jazz of the 1950s, to Free Jazz and Jazz Fusion from the mid-1960s until his death. From a compositional perspective these gradual shifts in his approach to jazz music demonstrate his need for constant experimentation. They also show, especially in terms of jazz fusion, his desire to stay ahead of the constantly evolving musical trends of the twentieth century.
The next few posts will concentrate specifically on Miles Davis’ utilization of the jazz fusion subgenre, which combined elements of rock and funk music. For the purpose of conciseness, this paper will primarily examine three of his albums conceptualized in this style: In a Silent Way (1969), Bitches Brew (1969) and On the Corner (1972). In doing so, it will additionally explore the reasons why Davis switched to jazz fusion, as well as posit information about his compositional approach to this style of music. This part of the discussion will frequently refer to both the LP versions (re-mastered on CDs) and the recently issued complete recording sessions of the latter. Lastly, this paper will briefly examine both the positive and negative musical criticism of Davis’ experimentation with jazz fusion in relation to these recordings.
Miles Davis and Historical Authenticity
Before discussing this topic in greater detail, several significant aspects of research related to Miles Davis must be addressed. First, although Davis’ music is often labeled as certain forms of jazz, it should be noted that he detested the categorical implications of that word.[1] Despite the fact that he does not refer to his works of the late-1960s and early-1970s as “fusion,” the term has nonetheless been used by other contemporary Miles Davis scholars in an attempt to describe his music. The term will be used in this paper in this way so as to glean a better understanding of Miles’ creative process at that time.
Secondly, the historical information surrounding Miles Davis’ life and his music arouses further complications in terms of accuracy. Such is the case with his autobiography from 1989, which Davis wrote with Quincy Troupe.[2] On the one hand, this book serves as an intriguing primary source because it is from Davis’ perspective. On the other hand, as Stanley Crouch and John Szwed indicate in their writings about Davis, the historical authenticity of this autobiography should be read with caution and skepticism. At times, Davis’ anecdotes present inaccuracies and contradictions when compared with more current biographical information about him.[3] This is partly because, by the time Miles wrote his autobiography, he was already in his early sixties. Due to his age at the time, he may not have remembered some aspects of his life well. The recent and personal recollections provided by Gregory Davis, Miles Davis’ eldest son, additionally offer a more sinister view of his father’s personality.[4] Bearing these inconsistencies in mind, it is often best to compare what Miles Davis says with newer, more accurate sources of information.
Why Jazz Fusion?
In order to comprehend the significance of jazz fusion in Miles Davis’ musical output, one must first understand why his music moved in this particular direction. As is evident in his earlier albums from the late-1950s to mid-1960s, such as Porgy and Bess (1958) and At Plugged Nickel, Chicago (1965)[5], Davis did not resist altering his perception of jazz music Yet, the jazz fusion albums of Miles Davis from the late-1960s and early-1970s exhibit more radical approaches to jazz music because they incorporate instruments more associated with the genres of rock and funk (electric guitars, electric keyboards etc.). Additionally, many of the performers featured on these albums would later move on to pursue successful solo careers and bands: keyboardists Herbie Hancock, Chick Corea, and Joe Zawinul; tenor saxophonist Wayne Shorter, guitarists John McLaughlin, and bassist Dave Holland.[6]
According to Miles Davis in his autobiography, he chose to explore jazz fusion because his previous albums had sold poorly when compared to popular music of the 1960s. Davis perceived the success of the Woodstock festival in the summer of 1969 as a sign that his music needed to be more progressive:
.... Nineteen sixty-nine was the year rock and funk were selling like hotcakes and all this was put on display at Woodstock. There were over 400,000 people at the concert. That many people at a concert makes everybody go crazy, and especially people who make records. The only thing on their minds is, How many records can we sell to that many people all the time? … And jazz music seemed to be withering on the vine, in record sales and live performances. It was the first time in a long time that I didn’t sell out (sic.) crowds everywhere I played. In Europe I always had sellouts, but in the United States, we played to a lot of half-empty clubs in 1969. That told me something….[7]
This quote provides some insight into his musical transition. However, as mentioned previously, Miles does not refer to this music as jazz fusion. He also mentions earlier in his book that he had recorded the albums In a Silent Way and Bitches Brew months before Woodstock occurred.[8] These specific albums, however, helped to form the essential musical components for his jazz fusion style: especially with his incorporation of electric instruments.
Research conducted in the 2000s from biographers John Szwed and Philip Freeman reveals that Davis became interested in using electronic elements in his music as early as 1967. Columbia Records had strongly urged Miles to create more albums, particularly because he needed money after abruptly halting the recording of what would eventually be the Plugged Nickel album two years prior.[9] The president at Columbia during that time (Clive Davis, no relation to Miles) had additionally proposed that Miles make jazz cover albums based on Dr. Doolittle and Camelot. When neither of these albums came to fruition, he produced the albums, Miles in the Sky (1968) and Filles de Kilimonjaro (1968). These early jazz fusion albums included electric keyboards and utilized more advanced recording technologies, such as the tape- splicing techniques of audio engineer Teo Macero (discussed later): aspects which Davis would utilize with In a Silent Way, Bitches Brew and On the Corner.[10]
Additionally, by creating his jazz fusion albums, Miles sought to stay ahead of the current musical trends. In order do this, he sought to appeal to the younger generation of listeners, drawing inspiration largely from the music of James Brown, Jimi Hendrix and Sly Stone (Davis had initially planned to collaborate with Hendrix during the 1970s, but to no avail.).[11] Because of these factors, the jazz fusion albums of Miles Davis serve as his attempt at marketing his music to both black and white listeners. Yet, according to Miles, this was not entirely the case. As he later recalls in his autobiography:
… I wasn’t prepared to be a memory yet, wasn’t prepared to be listed only on Columbia’s so-called classical list. I had seen the way to the future with my music, and I was going for it like I had always done. Not for Columbia and their record sales, and not for trying to get some young, white record buyers. I was going for it for myself, for what I wanted and needed in my own music. I wanted to change course, had to change course for me to continue to believe in and love what I was playing (author’s italics).[12]
This particular passage not only demonstrates a conflicting view for his transition. It also clearly reflects Miles Davis’ negativity and frustration towards the marketing tactics of record companies during the late 1960s: in this case, Columbia Records. This is further corroborated by John Szwed in his biography of Davis.[13] Considering the impact of the Civil Rights movements on black Americans during this decade, however, Davis’ justifications for pushing his music forward make sense artistically. His mistrust in white people resonated deeper for him, though. During the late 1950s, he experienced racial injustice firsthand while in New York City after being arrested, assaulted and imprisoned for helping a white woman into a taxi.[14]
In this regard, many of Davis’ albums of the late-1960s and early-70s also demonstrate an appreciation for African culture and black American social consciousness. These themes are best exhibited in Bitches Brew and On the Corner: specifically in their album artwork. Paul Tingen comments on the Bitches Brew cover by artist Abdul Matel Klarwein: “… Made at Miles’s (sic.) personal invitation, Klarwein’s expressionistic work captured the zeitgeist of free love and flower power, depicting a naked black couple looking expectantly at an ocean, a huge vibrant, red flower beside them.”[15] The album artwork for On the Corner, on the other hand, displays a completely different design. Although it provides a glimpse of black American society during the 1970s, it also adds shock-value with its bright colors and cartoonish approach.[16]
Footnotes
[1] Quincy Troupe. “From Kind of Blue to Bitches Brew,” in Miles Davis and American Culture, ed. Gerald Early (St. Louis, MO: Missouri Historical Society Press, 2001), 121.
[2] Miles Davis and Quincy Troupe, Miles: The Autobiography (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1989), 7-414.
[3] John Szwed, “Vamp,” in So What: The Life of Miles Davis (New York: Simon and Schuster, 2002). 1-4; Stanley Crouch, “Play the Right Thing,” in The Miles Davis Companion: Four Decades of Commentary, ed. Gary Carner (New York, London: Schirmer Books, Simon and Schuster, Prentice Hall International, 1996), 22-40.
[4]Gregory Davis and Les Sussman, Dark Magus: The Jekyll and Hyde of Miles Davis (San Fransisco: Backbeat Books, 2006), xiii-188.
[5]Miles Davis, At Plugged Nickel, Chicago. Columbia/Legacy: Sony Music Entertainment, 1965, 2009; Porgy and Bess Columbia, 1958, 1996. CD.
[6] Miles Davis and Quincy Troupe, Miles: The Autobiography (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1989), 295-296.
[7] Ibid., 297.
[8] Ibid.,295-297.
[9] John Szwed, “Chapter Six,” in So What: The Life of Miles Davis (New York: Simon and Schuster, 2002), 254-55.
[10] Ibid., 261-622, 80; Philip Freeman, “Two: It’s About That Time (1968-1970),” in Running the Voodoo Down: The Electric Music of Miles Davis (San Fransisco: Backbeat Books, 2005), 19-21.
[11] Philip Freeman, “Four: Miles, Jimi, and Sly,” in Running the Voodoo Down: The Electric Music of Miles Davis (San Fransisco: Backbeat Books, 2005), 61-80.
[12] Miles Davis and Quincy Troupe, Miles: The Autobiography (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1989), 298.
[13] John Szwed, “Chapter Six,” in So What: The Life of Miles Davis (New York: Simon and Schuster, 2002), 269.
[14] Miles Davis and Quincy Troupe. Miles: The Autobiography (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1989), 238-40.
[15] Paul Tingen, “Chapter Five: Sorcerer’s Brew,” in Miles Beyond:The Electric Explorations of Miles Davis: 1967-19991 (New York: Billboard Books, 2001), 62.
[16] Philip Freeman, “Chapter Six: On the Corner,” in Running the Voodoo Down: The Electric Music of Miles Davis (San Fransisco: Backbeat Books, 2005), 105.