21. Miles Davis — Kind of Blue (1959)
Here, at #21: the first album in this project that I already knew like the back of my hand. I’ve listened to this record a thousand times, for well over ten years of my life, everywhere from DC to Atlanta to Los Angeles to San Francisco and across the globe. I’ve listened to it on speakers good and bad, in early-90s Toyota Camry’s and 2010’s Mazda3’s, on AirPods and Sennheisers.
I’m not sure which albums are coming up in the project, as I try not to look too far ahead, but it’s not a risky bet to suggest that this is going to immediately take the mantle of my #1 ranked album and hang onto that for awhile. This is one of my all time favorites.
As such, I’m mixing it up — one bullet point for each track.
- “So What” We start with a kind of rambling collection of base and piano notes, almost as though the band is warming up. It’s not really clear where we’re going. And then 30 seconds in, the base line slinks in with a smooth groove, and slowly, the band joins in.
When I think of Jazz in its purely, most iconic form, I think of songs like this. A basic structure that you can memorize, follow along with, recollect within a few notes, broken up by different instrumentalists dropping solo after solo. This is a perfect example of the form, and every note in every single is perfect.
If you’re not listening to this in a place where you can clearly hear the bass line though, you’ll be a bit lost. This happened when I tried to introduce my wife to this album in Portugal; the speakers in the car we were in were simply not calibrated to capture the range of notes that you need to fully appreciate this. And you want to fully appreciate this.
With 30 seconds or so left, the song leaves as it arrived — each instrument dropping out until we’re simply left with that bass line. Perfect. - “Freddie Freeloader” Where do these song names come from? Unlike a lot of the Jazz we’ve heard in the project — including his own Birth of the Cool — every tune here is a Miles Davis composition. Whoever Freddie was in his life, I wonder how he felt about being iconized as a freeloader.
Unlike “So What,” this tune does not wait to jump in. The very first thing we hear is the structure, Miles’s trumpet, and the full band. It’s simple and addictive, and you’ll always remember it when you return to the album later. - “Blue in Green” Two colors?? You crazy for this one, Miles.
The album is called Kind of Blue but it doesn’t truly get blue until here, halfway through. Grab a glass of scotch, find a darkly lit, ideally smoky room, listen to this song and think about your life. Or think about a double-crossing dame and other Phillip Marloe hard boiled-isms. Whatever floats your boat. Just enjoy Davis’s muted trumpet sounds as they roll around in your head. - “All Blues” If “Blue in Green” is the hardboiled detective thinking about his woes, “All Blues” is where they start to put the pieces of the puzzle together, where the hunt is on. I love the persistent tension of the piano that opens the tune and hangs around through much of the first couple of minutes, until it starts to swing a bit and loosen up.
- “Flamenco Sketches” Fun fact that I just learned: Miles’s band here (John Coltrane and Julian “Cannonball” Adderley on sax, pianist Bill Evans, bassist Paul Chambers, and drummer Jimmy Cobb) had never seen any of this music before sitting down to record it. There are five tracks on the album; it took six total takes to complete. Only “Flamenco Sketches” required a second.
I love that. I don’t understand how it’s possible, but I love it. The beauty of Jazz is in the spontaneity. If Davis & Co made ten recordings of each of these tracks and simply chose the best one, it wouldn’t feel right. We got one take of each (aside from “Sketches”), and the result is exactly as it should be. Pure, perfect, controlled improvisation.
I’m not sure why you’re still reading this; just go listen to the damn thing.
One Essential Song:
(ed note: there are five essential songs, I have chosen one at random)
Listen on Spotify:
