A Tribute to Jack Johnson (1971)

(Uncorrected short version here.)

A Tribute to Jack Johnson is a great example of "electric Miles," a late phase of jazz trumpeter Miles Davis's career begun in 1968 with In a Silent Way. Electric Miles not only wired and amped up his icy attitude and complex sound, but began looking to more contemporary sources as well, such as Sly Stone and James Brown, for the self-conscious explorations of identity that provide so much urgency here, still, for this and for so much of his work from the time, at once operating inside a tradition and yet feverishly innovating and expanding it. This album is well known, much loved, and there's not a lot I can add except to echo the sentiment that it's one of the greatest albums ever made, jazz or rock, and you should probably go listen to it right off.

Big Fun (1974)

"Great Expectations" Some weird stories for me with this one. The first time I bought it, as a used album a couple years after its release, I didn't discover until I got it home that it was caked with some gritty substance -- sand, probably, or maybe salt. I'd never encountered anything like it before (or since). The surface noise was outrageous and I could only imagine what it was doing to the stylus. Then, years later, buying it as a CD, a record store clerk became abnormally excited that I was purchasing it. "Oh boy," he kept saying enthusiastically. "Big fun. Big fun!!" Just about anything from a record store clerk needs to be taken as sarcasm on some level, but he seemed sincere enough about it, and in fact I think it made me like these Miles Davis slabs even more. Not that they aren't perfectly fine all on their own. They are. But human psychology -- I'm starting to think it's nothing but a joke.

Live-Evil (1971)

"What I Say" Maybe it's just me but practically 40 years on this sounds as fresh, potent, and compelling as ever. The titling strategies of Miles Davis here may be a bit eccentric, not to say tipped over into the unblinkingly weird, with "Sivad" and "Selim," respectively, kicking off both album side 1s and CDs. And while it's approximately here that he begins his evolving sojourn toward a street cred that may have lived only in his mind, looking forward to the exercises of On the Corner, its cover graphics continued the themes of liberation begun with Bitches Brew, here turned somewhat inside out. Either that, or Columbia wanted to make the most of its relationship with unmistakable cover artist Mati Klarwein, who they also went to for the cover of Santana's Abraxas.

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In a Silent Way (1969)

"Shhh/Peaceful" Great slabs of Miles Davis, 20/25/30-minute jams uninterrupted at a time sometimes even more, all day jazz deep into the night, an indulgence since I was a teen, and it all starts approximately here. Not that this is typical -- in fact, it's more the oddity compared to what followed. As Miles chased his legend into the '70s the rhythms came forward far more than anything here, while harsh and brittle shards of electric guitar battled the rippling electric piano keyboards for supremacy. Miles's own solos never changed much, in terms of quality, as lyrical and poignant as ever. But this is before all of that and not nearly as unruly. It's a study in improvisation, set pieces all quiet and hushed and subtle, the groping among the players almost too painful to bear. Until suddenly everything falls into place, a discovery is made like a sunrise in sound, and they all fall onto it, devour it. Then the beauty is almost too painful to bear.

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A Tribute to Jack Johnson (1971)

"Right Off" This one's durable, always sounds fresh and you can play it twice or more daily and it only gets better. It's a wonder that I ever stop listening to it at all. The first (vinyl) side, aka "Right Off," cooks up a funky stew that stretches forever. John McLaughlin shines as always with Miles. The flip, "Yesternow," is based on an almost self-consciously ugly bass figure that may or may not continue for the entire 26 or so minutes. The merry crew travels to many a tidy harbor and through storms at sea. Then, if you're anything like me, you always jump when James Earl Jones starts yapping, because you always forget that he does.

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