July 2011

Miles Davis — How “Visionary” is Spelled in Jazz

Miles Davis. There, enough said.  Does not the name alone  conjure up images of greatness, imagination come to life, and creativity that boggles the mind? O.k., so you want more. Fine, but  you must now settle in for the longest profile we have published to date. I doubt that many will want to argue why. This is certainly no knock on the many incredibly talented and gifted artists we have covered here, but a story of this magnitude with such underlying revelations and feel-good points for aspiring artists simply could not be watered down. So, bear with me and allow me to elaborate.

His skill as a trumpeter was unsurpassed.  As a composer, his approach to music was nothing less than visionary and produced some of the most original and innovative pieces in existence.   At the heart of his genius was the ability to hear the possibilities of new and exciting sounds combined with an insatiable drive to continually move his music forward.  His cutting edge approach put him at the forefront of every major movement in jazz for 40 years.  He was a major participant in bop and a leader in hard bop, cool jazz, modal jazz, and jazz fusion.   His larger-than-life and sometimes controversial persona caused him to be vilified by some and idolized by others.  His one-of-a-kind influence on music and modern culture is undeniable.

Miles Dewey Davis III was born May 26, 1926, to educated and successful parents.  He was the second of three children raised in an upper middle class neighborhood in East St. Louis, IL.  His mother, a pianist herself, hoped that Miles would learn to play the violin but, when he was 12 years old, his father gave him a trumpet.   The elder Davis was friends with Elwood Buchanan, the band teacher at the local high school, and soon arranged for young Miles to receive private instruction from him.

Buchanan was a trumpeter himself and had worked in local dance bands and riverboats.  He was an exacting teacher with definite ideas about music.  His influence on the adolescent Davis was profound.   Not afraid to buck a musical trend, Buchanan preferred the playing styles of Bobby Hackett and Harold Shorty Baker to that of the immensely popular Louis Armstrong.  Consequently, he broke his young pupil of the heavy vibrato popular with trumpeters at the time.  This clean, straight forward sound would be a Miles Davis trademark for his entire career.

Once in high school, Davis joined Buchanan’s school band as well as playing other local engagements on the weekends.  He was good on the trumpet, and he knew it, but he felt that racism kept him from getting all the recognition he deserved.  He told an interviewer for Playboy in 1962,

“In high school, I was the best in the music class on the trumpet. I knew it and all the rest knew it — but all the contest first prizes went to the boys with blue eyes. It made me so mad I made up my mind to outdo anybody white on my horn. If I hadn’t met that prejudice, I probably wouldn’t have had as much drive in my work. I have thought about that a lot. I have thought that prejudice and curiosity have been responsible for what I have done in music.”

At the age of 17, the still-maturing trumpeter joined a local band called The Blue Devils.  He was surrounded by older and more experienced musicians, and they were quick to pass on their expertise.  They corrected his mistakes and helped him to advance his playing technique.  When Billy Eckstine’s band came to town, a still-teenaged Davis was recruited to sit in as the third trumpet when regular member, Buddy Anderson, became ill.  For two weeks he played with jazz greats Dizzy Gillespie and Charlie Parker.   It was an amazing opportunity that helped shape the rest of his life.

After graduation, Davis was accepted to the Julliard School of Music and left home for New York City where he quickly accomplished his goal of locating his idol, Charlie Parker. Parker, by this time, had formed his own quintet.   Soon, the newcomer was attending jam sessions in New York’s jazz clubs, playing with the likes of Thelonius Monk and Kenny Clarke as well as the up-and-coming Fats Navarro, Freddie Webster, and J.J. Johnson.  Davis was drawn to the vibrancy and creativity of the jazz scene.  He much preferred it to the more traditional and “white” approach he found in his classes at Julliard.  Out of respect for his father, who was paying for his education, he travelled back home to East St. Louis to explain, in person,  the musical revolution he had found in the New York clubs and to ask the elder Davis for his permission to drop out of Julliard.  His father listened and then gave permission, and Miles Davis was on his way to becoming a jazz icon.

Dizzy Gillespie left the Charlie Parker Quintet in 1945, and Miles Davis stepped into Gillespie’s shoes.  He toured and recorded with Parker on and off again until 1948 when the ambitious Davis chose to go his own way.  He soon began an association with arranger Gil Evans that would last for several years and would eventually lead to the production of several significant albums. At this time, Evans had tired of the complicated rhythm and instrumental techniques inherent in bop and was looking to create a simpler more melodic sound.  Davis was enthusiastic about the new project and formed a nonet which debuted in 1948 and stayed together until the end of 1949.  It included Gerry Mulligan, tuba player Bill Barber, and sax man Lee Konitz among others.  Gil Evans did the arrangements, and the odd ensemble began moving forward with a new sound in jazz.  The group had several recording sessions, and a few years later, in 1956, an album of their work was released, entitled, Birth of the Cool. The cool jazz movement had arrived.

The 1950s were a time of personal difficulty for Miles Davis.  He had recently returned from a stay in Paris and had relished the acceptance he had found there for jazz as an art form.  He also felt that black musicians were treated with greater respect there than they were treated anywhere within the United States.  While in Paris, he had also become romantically involved with French singer Juliette Greco.  His friends tried to persuade him to stay in Europe, but he chose to return home.  Needless to say, returning to the old racism of New York and a jazz scene in decline was not an easy adjustment for him.  Jobs were often scarce, and most of the work seemed to go to white musicians. He missed Paris and Juliette terribly.  In addition, his relationship with long-time girlfriend and mother of his 3 children, was beginning to unravel.  Professionally, he was also very unhappy that the media had declared Gerry Mulligan and Dave Brubeck the leaders of the cool jazz movement.  He felt robbed of recognition that should have been his, as the white press preferred to credit white musicians with what had begun as his project.  The pressures in his life mounted and his depression grew deeper.  Before too long, this most talented of musicians had become a heroin addict.

Although he developed a reputation at this time for being difficult, rude, and sometimes quick-tempered  during this period, he managed to keep his personal problems out of his music for the most part.  He signed a recording contract with Prestige Records and released several successful albums.  He worked with some of the best names in jazz, including saxophonist Sonny Rollins and drummer Art Blakey. Despite the personal struggles he was having at this time, the quality of the recordings he made was excellent, and his album Walkin’ established Miles Davis as a leader of the hard bop movement.  However, as the demands of his heroin addiction grew, his behavior predictably deteriorated.  To support his habit, he became involved in petty crimes and frequently missed gigs.   He was even found by friend, Clark Terry, literally sleeping in the gutter.  Eventually, a troubled Davis knew it had to end, so in an act of incredible self -discipline and determination, he went home to his father’s house, locked himself in a room and didn’t come out until he was clean.  Years later, he recalled his ordeal and said  that he got through the agonizing experience by believing that the next hour– or the next minute–would be better.

 The Newport Jazz Festival of 1955 was the beginning of a whole new era in the jazzman’s career.  Now free of heroine, his performance at the festival was heralded by critics as “the return of Miles Davis.”  In addition to his great performance, he also began to use his exceptional ability of spotting new talent to form what would later become known as the” first great quintet.”  This fresh and exciting group included drummer Philly Joe Jones, bassist Paul Chambers, pianist Red Garland ,and John Coltrane on tenor sax.  All of them were relatively unknown at the time.  This group produced some of the finest jazz recordings ever made, including Round Midnight, Relaxin’ with the Miles Davis Quintet, Cookin’ with the Miles Davis Quintet and Steamin’ with the Miles Davis Quintet. Unfortunately, the group was also beset with personal problems and disbanded in 1957. This, however, did not slow down a newly invigorated Davis.

Director Louis Malles enlisted the talented trumpeter for the score of his 1956 film Ascenseur pour l’echafaud.  The project was unconventional, to say the least, because it was done entirely with improvisation.  Davis and his band would watch the action on the screen and then play what came to them.  Not one note of music was written.  Returning home to New York, Davis reformed his first great quintet into a sextet with the addition of Cannonball Adderley and subsequently released the album Milestones.

Davis next reunited with old friend Gil Evans, and, together they released some of the best albums of his career, including Miles Ahead, Porgy and Bess, and the flamenco-inspired Sketches of Spain.  When Davis and his sextet began work on a new album, pianist Bill Evans joined the group.   Evans and Davis had worked together in the past and were both interested in the idea of basing music and improvisation on scales instead of using chords as was currently being done.  This was the beginnings of modal jazz.  In an effort to make the music sound as fresh as possible, Davis and Evans would prepare basic scales for the other musicians that they did not show them until the day of the recording session.  The result of their efforts was the critically acclaimed Kinda Blue, the bestselling jazz album of all time.

In 1959, a well-publicized incident occurred in New York City outside the famous jazz club Birdland.  The Miles Davis Quintet was performing in the club when Miles stepped outside and was walking across the street to help a white woman into a cab.  A patrolman on the scene told Davis he needed to move along.  Davis explained that he was working at the club and not doing anything wrong and he refused to move.  The officer moved to strike Davis who protected himself.  At this point, another officer came behind the unsuspecting Davis and struck him in the head with a nightstick.  The wounded trumpeter was then taken into custody and charged with felony assault.  He subsequently required five stitches for the injury to his head.  An outraged Davis tried to pursue a case against the police in the courts.  But although the case received substantial media attention, even international attention, he was ultimately unsuccessful.  Adding insult to injury, he was also compelled to plea bargain the charges against him, since a felony conviction would cost him his city-issued cabaret card.  The loss of the cabaret card would have been a serious blow to his career, since without it, he could not play in any New York nightclub.

Over the next several years, Davis worked with a variety of musicians and released several more albums. In 1965, what became known as the second great quintet was formed.   The new ensemble marked a change for the group leader because the musicians he chose were all several years younger than he was.  This new quintet consisted of Wayne Shorter on saxophone, Herbie Hancock on piano, Wayne Carter on bass, and Tony Williams on drums.  Their approach was definitively modal jazz.  Together, they released the albums Miles Smiles, Sorcerer, Nefertiti, Miles in the Sky, and Filles de Kilimanjaro. This was also the last acoustic ensemble for the ever-evolving Davis. The music world was shifting and something new had begun to attract his attention.

Rock and Roll had become the music of the day, and Davis found himself impressed with the work of artists such as Sly and the Family Stone, James Brown, and, especially, Jimi Hendrix.  He was especially impressed with Hendrix’s ability and energy.  He also believed that, just as in his early jazz days, black musicians were being pushed aside by white artists, imitating what the blacks had originated.  Davis and Hendrix had even made plans to collaborate, but Hendrix died before the project could become reality.

Davis began looking for musicians who could help him create the new electronic sound that interested him.  Pianists gave way to keyboardists and an electric guitar was included in his new sound.    This eventually lead to the creation of the cutting edge Bitches Brew which experimented with electronic sounds and editing methods. The record proved to be incredibly popular. And several other experimental albums followed.  Some of the critics dubbed the new sound as “space music.”

At about this same time, Davis contributed to the score of a movie about the life of former Heavy Weight Champion, Jack Johnson.  It was a project that appealed to Davis on a couple of different levels.  Davis was a long-time boxing enthusiast. He even trained as a boxer as a way to stay in shape.  In addition to his love for the sport, he also related to Johnson as a black man who had to fight against a white establishment to succeed and A Tribute to Jack Johnson was released.

It was a time of social change and of a growing movement of black pride and power.  The forward thinking Davis wanted his music to reach a young, and especially, black audience.  He cut his usual fee and opened for popular bands such as The Grateful Dead, Neil Young, and Santana.  He also released On the Corner, which blended traditional jazz elements with electronic funk.  He was acutely aware of the current social climate.  He was also aware that he had become a symbol for some in the black power movement of the modern black man.  Ironically, during this same period, he had hired white saxophonist Dave Leibman to play in his band.  Some of the other band members were against Leibman’s inclusion and were very vocal about their belief that the job should have gone to a black musician.  Davis would have none of it.  He had hired the musician with the right sound, and he was not about to fire him because he was white.

Davis released a few more albums, but things were slowly unraveling for the talented trumpeter.  He had been in poor health for several years.  He had been injured in a serious car accident and suffered from several chronic and painful ailments.   In order to manage the constant pain, he had once again become addicted, this time to alcohol and cocaine.  In 1975, he took a few months off to recover his health.  What was supposed to be six months became five years. During this time, he lived in seclusion and rarely picked up his trumpet.

Eventually, Davis renewed a former relationship with actress Cicely Tyson, and the couple soon married.  It proved to be a step on the road to recovery.  He finally overcame the cocaine habit that had plagued him for so long. He also began to find a renewed enthusiasm for his music.  It required a few years of intermittent recording sessions, but, at last, a new album, The Man with the Horn, was released.  A string of other releases followed.  Among these were We Want Miles, You’re Under Arrest and Tutu.  He toured Europe and made a few acting appearances on television.   He participated in the Artists Against Apartheid album and later collaborated with Quincy Jones.

In 1990, he accepted a well-deserved Grammy for lifetime achievement.  In early 1991, Davis participated in the only nostalgic project of his career when he performed with some of his former band members in a reunion concert in Paris.  His health was failing rapidly, and he sometimes had to be helped onto the stage, but his performances were solid.  He died of a massive stroke September 28, 1991.  He left an impressive legacy of musical excellence and creativity.  He disliked being called a legend during his lifetime. He felt that a legend was someone whose music had stopped and whose career had peaked.  He never wanted that description to apply to him.

In his 1962 Playboy interview, Davis made the following statement, “Look, man, all I am is a trumpet player.  I can only do one thing – play my horn—and that’s what’s at the bottom of the whole mess.  I ain’t no entertainer, and I ain’t trying to be one.  I am one thing, a musician.”  What he was goes beyond the simple description of musician. He was and will always be an experience. The world will never know another one like him. – Annette Olsen