Miles Davis, "Kind of Blue"

Ken treats us to jazz a la mode

Ken’s Pitch:

I tried writing this as a defense of jazz, but jazz doesn’t need defending.  I also made an earnest attempt to write it as an explanation of modal jazz, but I’m limited to 500 words here and going down the rabbit hole of modality (especially as a compare-contrast to Miles’ earlier hard bop work) is a much bigger task.  So what do you say about the best selling jazz record of all-time, composed by a titan of the industry, that’s universally acclaimed by critics?  

To start, there is no overstating the power of this band.  Miles Davis, John Coltrane, Cannonball Adderly, Bill Evans, Paul Chambers, and Jimmy Cobb (Wynton Kelly on the keyboards on one track “Freddy Freeloader”) are all jazz giants.  If you aren’t a big jazz fan, let me put it another way. This is the equivalent of having Nolan Ryan as your starting pitcher, Johnny Bench as your catcher, and an infield of Lou Gherig, Jackie Robinson, Wade Boggs, and Ozzie Smith. 

As far as the actual album is concerned, Kind of Blue is to jazz what the forward pass was to football.  People loved football in the early-ish 20th century.  It was loaded with things people loved to watch: competition, blood, and violence.  But football was easy to digest back then.  The quarterback handed the ball off on every single play so the only job of the viewer was to follow the runner and watch him get pummeled.  Then someone decided to throw the ball beyond the line of scrimmage and the game was changed forever.  It forced defenses to adjust their strategies and cover receivers, and linemen had to learn a different type of blocking in order to create a pocket for the QB.  At the same time the game became more exciting and more complex, it also became somewhat less improvisational.  Linebackers were, in many cases, not looking at the ball any longer and figuring out where to run, they were shooting through a particular gap in the offensive line because that was the assigned play.  Watching the game became multi-dimensional.  While Kind of Blue didn’t invent the musical forward pass known as modal jazz, it did expose the masses to it and made it a part of the mainstream.

Beyond the modality, and looking past the unimpeachable musicianship, what I love more than anything about this album is that it’s a musical catharsis.  Kind of Blue is a record that you could’ve seen live back in 1959 in some dark, smoky club in New York, and you could have had the time of your life drinking straight whiskey like some Kerouac character blowing off steam on a Friday night.  But it’s also something you can put on while making dinner after a hard day, and it immediately brings on a feeling of calm and peace.  From the opening few bars of “So What?” all the way to the end of “Flamenco Sketches”, Miles and his band take you on a gently-rolling roller coaster ride as it meanders along a winding track for 45 minutes, and when it’s over, you get right back in line to do it again.

To paraphrase Louis Armstrong, if you have to ask why this album is so great, you probably wouldn’t understand.

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Mitch’s Response:

I don’t know much, but after reading Miles Davis’s autobiography several years ago, I do know that Miles would not give two fucks what I thought about him, Kind of Blue, or anything - which is really too bad, as I sincerely love his music (In a Silent Way is my jam) and Kind of Blue is the rare album that lives up to its esteemed reputation as one of the several dozen albums that are called the best-selling/most important jazz album of all time.

Miles is also attributed with the famous quote: “It’s not the notes you play, it’s the notes you don’t play,” which sounds super-profound, but in truth I don’t have the slightest idea what that means. I do know that when people other than Miles spout that line, they sound about as full of shit as I do when I talk about football.

I also know that Kind of Blue is kind of perfect - all five songs are great. There’s not one note out of place - at least among the notes they actually played - and it creates such a warm, soothing vibe that it kind of makes the listener feel less blue.

Most of all, I know that Kind of Blue contains one of my favorites songs ever: "Flamenco Sketches”. The four soloist - Miles on trumpet, Coltrane on tenor, Cannonball on alto and Evans on piano - each take us on different journey to the same place and yet it never feels redundant. The beauty of the whole album is perfectly encapsulated in that one wonderful performance, and this is indeed an album full of beauty and wonder.

Blue goes for two.

• Pitch Successful

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CJ’s Response:

By the spring of my senior year I had fulfilled all the requirements for my English major, so I found myself with an opportunity to basically take whatever classes I wanted. Determined to broaden my horizons, I enrolled in Professor Morrill’s Intro to Jazz class. Little did I know that I would be learning from a legend.

Dexter George Morrill was jazz royalty. He studied with Dizzy Gillespie, collaborated with Wynton Marsalis, wrote a book on the works of Woody Herman and composed an entire album for Stan Getz. Even though we were just a basic 101 survey class, he did for us what only the best teachers do. He infused his love and enthusiasm for his subject into us.

Over the course of the semester, Professor Morrill took us from Louis Armstrong all the way up to Bobby McFerrin. I tapped along to the big band sounds of Benny Goodman. I loved the unbridled joy of Cab Calloway. And I admired the elegance of Duke Ellington.

When we got to the Miles Davis masterpiece Kind of Blue it left me kind of cold. The subdued tone and sparse instrumentation seemed to dare you not to like it. After the wild frenzy of the swing bands, I was missing the notes that weren’t being played.

Listening to the album thirty years later was an entirely different experience. I appreciated the deliberateness of the orchestration, the thoughtfulness of the solos and the outright disdain for convention. In many ways, my change of heart was a metaphor for growing up. When you’re young, it matters what others think of you. When you’re older, it matters more what you think of yourself.

Dexter Morrill passed away in the summer of 2019 after battling Progressive Supra Nuclear Palsy. Spending a few hours with Kind of Blue this week and thinking about my old jazz professor was all that mattered.

• Pitch Successful

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Don’s Response: 

I feel left out. Before this project, I’ve never listened to Miles Davis’ Kind of Blue. Of course, I’d heard it. But I’d never truly listened. What a revelation. It became the soundtrack for my week. On the Sonos while making dinner. In the car while running errands. Cooling down at night after re-entering the real world post holidays. It was easy listening. 

I don’t have anything profound or particularly insightful or creative to add to the responses above. It was a  delightful surprise that made me feel good, kept me in the moment, and helped me think. 

Thanks, Ken. While it didn’t inspire me the way rock & roll and blues do, it definitely opened my ears. I’m looking forward to experiencing more of all that jazz I’ve been hearing about.

• Pitch Successful

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Ken’s pitch was like totally far out, man, and Miles Davis’ Kind of Blue was added to the Newbury St. Collection.

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Thanks for reading! We had big fun cookin’ with Miles this week. Why don’t you join us on the corner and let us know what you think about the man with the horn and the milestone album Kind of Blue:

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Please join us next week as Don goes cougar hunting with John Mellencamp’s 1991 release, Whenever We Wanted.