Why Miles?

Another kind of music I’m listening to during pandemic is a personal rediscovery of Miles Davis’ second great quintet, and specifically, Miles in the Sky and Filles de Kilimanjaro, which are both from 1968 sessions. Repeated listenings of these sessions make In a Silent Way and Bitches Brew not quite as surprising or radical as they are usually portrayed. Electric instrumentation was introduced, and Tony Williams’ drumming seems to be the driving force behind a changing sound.

But the facts and the musical context don’t explain why this music, now. Here’s the best I can explain: the music’s compelling beauty comes from its tensions—resolved and not resolved—created by a top-drawer ensemble of like-minded musicians who are directed by a restless, enigmatic genius searching for a way to push out of conventional expectations. And, at a time of uncertainty and change and suffering, this music offers undiminished demonstration of the human spirit’s capacity to be both responsive and propulsive.

Miles Davis and Tony Williams

Smooth-er jazz?

Being in proximity to my music collection more frequently during the pandemic, I have had opportunity to assemble playlists. As mentioned previously, the activity—thinking about and listening to music—is a little bit of tonic for a pandemic. This past week I put together a playlist of what might be called “smooth” jazz.
Generally, smooth jazz does not hold my interest very long, usually because I quickly tire of its sameness in production and kind. My speculation is that what separates smooth jazz from really smooth jazz is to be found in the way the rhythm sections plays and / or is produced. I am struck by how many examples of a smooth-er jazz that hold my interest have a great rhythm section. If a drummer like Lenny White, a bassist like Lonnie Plaxico, and a keyboardist like Jim Beard are playing, chances are the smooth is really smooth. Solos are important too, of course, and the bluesier the soloist is, the better?

Good Tonic

Social distancing and personal anxiety about the future brought on by, well you know, can be relieved by a dose of good music? Here’s a CD that’s working for me: T.S. Monk’s Higher Ground, 2002. Upbeat and well-played, it features an interesting variety of tunes. Problem being: you can’t purchase Higher Ground on iTunes; and the physical CD is available on Discogs or Amazon, but not individual tracks for download. My favorite track is “Ladera Heights,” an easy-going number with just enough bottom and excellent solos. You may recognize it if you listen to jazz radio.

Junky Star over and over

Gotta be honest; I’d never heard Ryan Bingham (b. 1981) until I recently took a chance on Junky Star (2010.) Gotta be honest; I bought the CD because I liked the cover—design / imagery— and because it was produced by T Bone Burnett. Sometimes a person finds themselves in church for all the wrong reasons.
For me, this is a rare CD, one in which once it’s in the car player I keep repeating it, from 1-12 and back to 1. The sequence and pacing of individual cuts flow nicely, and the craft (tunes and production) holds a lot of interest. I had a difficult time choosing just one song for a mixed playlist.
Bingham’s voice is strained and gritty, so not everybody will be immediately attracted to his sound. Think of John Mellencamp, rather than the oft-compared Bob Dylan.