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26 May 1926 – 28 September 1991
This man needs little introduction. I felt slightly embarrassed
while typing his name in my flash software, which creates the rising
name bar at the top of this page. Some individuals do not need their
name in lights, or flashy titles.
At some stage in the near future I will complete Davis’ biography
and the review for “Kind of Blue”, “Tutu”
etc, but unlike many of the other reviews I feel compelled to complete…
there is definitely no rush here.
I cannot possibly add anything
that has not already been said a million times over!
Miles Davis’ solemn gritty voice and physical aura used to
scare me as a child. (So did the actress Betty Davis). As I got
older my fear of Miles Davis turned to admiration. I have seen many
documentaries and spoken with individuals who have been fortunate
enough to witness him perform live. They all confirm that he was
quite a shy, insecure man.
I have also grown to admire Betty Davis, but the sound
of her voice and sheer physical presence on film still sends a shiver
down my spine.
The album “Kind of Blue” was one of my first ‘real
jazz albums’ and was definitely one of the first jazz albums
to encourage me to really explore the rich, eclectic world of jazz.
What a way to start. And quite frankly, possibly the only way to
start!
I do remember having a conversation about Davis with my father
while we were both decorating part of the house in the early 1990’s
(I would have been in my mid twenties). Our conversation swayed
from one subject to another and eventually swung round to music.
I mentioned the name Miles Davis to him, to which he replied,
“Never heard of him!”
I nearly fell off my ladder in shock, horror and disbelief. I didn’t
regard my father as an out-and-out music buff, or staunch jazz head,
but as it was my father who had introduced me to the likes of Sam
Cooke, James Brown and Dionne Warwick in my younger years. I definitely
expected him to know the name MILES DAVIS!
We continued exploring each other’s knowledge. We took turns
in mentioning musicians’ names and then nodding our heads
in acknowledgement. My father mentioned the name Buddy Rich, to
which I replied,
“Never heard of him!”
My father nearly fell off his ladder.
“Never heard of him!” my father retorted. “How
could you have not heard of possibly the greatest jazz drummer of
all time?”
Such is the beauty of music. It doesn’t matter how long you
have been listening or collecting music. It doesn’t matter
how dedicated or passionate you are… you will never know it
all.
I initially purchased “Kind of Blue” on CD format.
As my ears ‘and thoughts’ became more refined, I began
to realise that there was a great deal more flavour, texture and
overall ambience on offer. Unfortunately the dreaded digitally re-mastered
CD and player struggles to re-produce such detail. I had been searching
for a copy of this album on good old vinyl off and on for many years.
I managed to pick up a relatively clean and affordable copy today
(12th November 2005). ‘What a difference’.
I can hear
‘and feel’ so much more of what each musician is actually
trying to say. I sat in my listening chair spellbound. Almost as
if I was hearing this recording for the first time.
Robin Francis
12 November 2005
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