Knoxville Progressive wrote a lovely diary earlier providing links to some of the many resources available to Jazz enthusiasts on the internet. Go have a look. Unlike politics, history, the media, or any of the other subjects I regularly write about, I am actually fairly well qualified to discuss music and music theory in an academic context. Don’t worry, I would never do that to you. Credentials are for the birds. Anyway, I came across the following clip of the Miles Davis Quintet, featuring John Coltrane, playing So What while perusing The Poor Man last night.
This was taped while Davis was recording one of his collaborations with Gil Evans. On You Tube, the broadcast date is given 1958, which would mean that it was recorded during the production of Porgy and Bess. To my ear, however, John Coltrane’s solo sounds like one he would play in late 1959 or early 1960, rather than one he would play at any time in 1958. Not as small a distinction as you might think. My guess is that this was recorded during the production of Sketches of Spain. The guys standing around with horns doing nothing are members of the Gil Evans Orchestra. I’m sure the actual date of the taping is quite easy to find with 30 seconds of research, but I prefer to engage in wild speculation in order to provide ample ammunition for irate commenters.
For comparison, listen to this version of So What recorded in Stockholm, Sweden on March 22, 1960, and this version recorded during the second set of the same concert. Coltrane’s solo on the first is so good it nearly ruined my life, and his solo on the second is so good it would have done the same had the first not been around. Whatever. I’ve already cried that river.
You were expecting pandas, weren’t you?
YES, CHRIS!!!
I live that life still.
They were burning, weren’t they?
They were burning.
Large parts of AMERICA were burning then, too. On any number of levels.
Think on it.
That was COLUMBIA RECORDS paying to have that happen.
The big dog of the time.
Same money now?
For high art?
Nope.
Wer are in trouble.
Those guys in the background?
Frank Rehak, Jimmy Cleveland?
It was a whole SOCIETY of artists, and one that was supported by the culture to some degree.
Enough to live, for SURE.
NOW?
Nope.
We make it…but just barely.
Here’s to a renaissance.
What goes down, MUST come up.
AG
Here’s to a renaissance AG.
What do you mean., “ruined your life?”
Cried WHAT river?
AG
Well, since you asked, feel free to be bored to tears by my navel gaze on this post I wrote almost exactly a year ago. As a special treat, if you read the comments, you can read my brother berate me for being the fool I am.
Oh.
I know the feeling.
So did ‘Trane, who quite accurately stated that he did not have the gifts that were Bird’s birthright.
I am sorry, I guess, that you gave up. But not really, if your life has been well spent in other pursuits.
We all do what we must.
Be well…
AG
I should also add that “ruined my life” is a whole lot of hyperbole. I don’t mean to compare anything I’ve ever been through to the sorts of very awful things that actually do ruin people’s lives. This medium lends itself to overly dramatic statements used for emphasis, sacasim and whatever. I’m just doing my part to keep up the tradition.
For you Chris, cause it’s tradition right? 🙂 Good night.
Thanks Olivia. That’s a great picture. I’d smile from ear to ear if my mouth was really big and the corners got anywhere close to my ears.
I’ll take jazz instead of Pandas once in a while.
Thanks Chris.
Thanks for that! Jazz is where it’s at. That is a precious moment showing the absolute best our country has produced — some of the best music ever made.
When I can’t deal with the crap, that’s where I like to find peace of mind.
Nice stuff to wake up to on a Saturday Morning.
I’m not a fan of jazz, but I am a fan of virtuosity, and man, could that dude play. I don’t even think you could call it playing. It’s more like bleeding in moonlight, you know?
Being a musician myself (drums), I get what you’re saying about that solo ruining your life. Neil Peart almost ruined my life :o) But you know what? In the end, it ain’t about what other people hear. It’s about what you feel when you pour it out. Isn’t that the reason any of us play? I mean, I guess it’s nice to be recognized, and payed ;o) for your talents, but when I close my eyes and forget my surroundings, and let my hands and feet fly to wherever they call home for each of those split seconds it takes to tap a drumhead, I’m the greatest drummer on Earth, and I’m the only audience that matters.
Pick up that horn bro.
I listen to guys like Coltrane, or others who do the kind of music I’m inclined more toward (people like Tony Trischka or Uncle Dave Macon or even Pete Seeger) and it’s just about enough to make me put away the banjo, because I ain’t never gonna be even a tenth as good as any of them.
But then I come to the conclusion that I’m here and they aren’t, and I go back to practicing and trying to play “Fishin’ Blues” and at least not sound like I’m gonna injure myself on that long-handled egg-slicer, even if I can’t sound like Taj Mahal.
Late night jazz links are always appreciated even if I don’t listen until morning. Thanks for posting.
Hey, Chris,
I’m sure you’ve seen this, but anyway:
Personally, I wish nobody would give up for such reasons (though, frankly, if Branford had actually done so it wouldn’t bother me all that much), but I can certainly relate. In any case, obviously you’re not alone!
Thanks for the links.
Yeah, I have read that. Very surprising coming out of Branford.
Thank you. Miles Davis is one of my all time favorites. This is jazz at its best. You just made my Saturday morning.
miles is, was and always will be the coolest cat ever.
First, a big thank you for pointing us at that. Aside from the music, what really grabbed me was the guys themselves, manifesting as the very essence of late fifties beat cool. Not an iota of passion, or gimmick or personality showing, unless you’re close enough to catch the glint in their eyes, which that vid really does. The faces of black men who came of age during Jim Crow, McCarthy-ism and the earliest rumblings of what became black liberation, such as it is.
Those faces are pre-sixties faces, when they still kept it all hid. Just look at the faces of performers now to get some perspective on how thoroughly the 60s blew the lid off on the boundaries of self-expression.