This
CD had been on my list for weeks, and I just happened to spot it a
couple days ago in a bargain bin. A compilation of Davis' (and his
nonet's) contribution to the “cool jazz” movement, recorded
mostly in 1948, it's full of slightly slower tempos and more laid
back melodies than a lot of his other work, though it certainly
doesn't lack his trademark unusualness. How many artists create
entire genres and subgenres (multiple, at that)? Take a listen to
“Red Clay” by Herbie Hancock. Throughout that album, there is a
distinct melody and arrangement to each song, which is rarely
deviated from, though that does little to keep it from being one of
my favorite jazz albums of all time. Davis, by contrast, may start
one way, drift to a different tempo, and switch up the arrangements
and pitch, all within the same song. His unorthodox playing style and
unwillingness to take the easy route, in my opinion, is what makes
him great. That being said, the seemingly random changes in tempo as
he wanders from one melody to the next that I've grown accustomed to,
particularly in albums like “Sketches of Spain” are for the most
part absent, due in no small part to the unusually short length of
each track (all are under five minutes, and few top four). There are
elements of traditional hard bop and even the occasional hint of big
band swing ('Jeru', 'Venus de Milo', 'Budo'). 'Moon Dreams' feels
like the soundtrack to an old '70s movie, with its long, wailing
notes and abnormally slow tempo. 'Godchild,' though placed in the
middle of the album, feels like the culmination of all of the styles
that came before it. It feels fully complete, all the small details
and intonations fleshed out, a true testament to the force that Miles
Davis was, along with everyone he worked with. It feels, to me, like
the strongest song here. 'Darn That Dream' features one of the only
jazz pieces with vocals that I think I have in my collection (a
testament to how much more there is for me to find), with Kenny
Hagood taking center stage, while the rest of the group subdues their
individual pieces. I can't remember the last time I sat down with a
CD and actually read through the liner notes and flipped through the
pictures as I listened, it must have been since I was 11 or 12. It's
full of firsthand accounts of recording with Davis, each with a
slightly different take on the experience. Sadly, it felt like it was
nearly over before it began, with the studio recordings clocking in
at under 36 minutes. Fortunately, this release also comes with a live
performance of the album, along with a few bonus performances, adding
nearly an hour to the total. While a bit roughly recorded, they
retain that live element, that dusty, smoky jazz club feel, complete
with an announcers introduction, that almost make it seem like an
entirely different set of songs than the studio recordings. The
occasional chatter of the audiences, the hisses and pops of the
microphones, and the sporadic bursts of applause add to this. With
most jazz albums, you can tell on the first or second listen roughly
when they were recorded. “The Birth of Cool,” however, defies
such an ability to be dated. It could have been recorded a year ago
or 60, both reminiscent of the past and stunningly current.
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