Published on Jan 14, 2003
Jazz is sometimes a foreign language to me. I’m not necessarily
referring to the music; rather, the way that many other writers can
break down a song or arrangement into such minute details that it
almost feels like I’m reading Scientific American rather than a
music review. Nevertheless, I find myself in awe of these writers,
for they seem to hear more than I can. They break down the nuances;
all I can do is go with my gut instinct.
When it comes to
Round About Midnight, the debut release on Columbia for jazz
legend Miles Davis, that gut instinct tells me that I’m listening
to something that’s magical, yet still somewhat in development.
(Note: Since I first got my copy of this disc, it has been
re-issued with bonus tracks originally included on
The Complete Miles Davis/John Coltrane Sessions, a set in my
“someday I’ll get to it” pile.)
If anything, this disc is less of a showcase for Davis (who
knows when to take the forefront in the music and when to let his
sidemen take the spotlight) than it is for saxophonist John
Coltrane, who gets what turns out to be his big break on this disc.
Without upstaging his boss, Coltrane delivers some powerful
saxophone work that quickly cements his place as a legend in the
world of jazz. Where Davis seemed to play things low-key in his
solos for the most part, Coltrane wasn’t afraid to turn the burners
up and let things start cooking.
Take the title track, “‘Round Midnight,” for starters. A slow
build on Davis’s muted trumpet leads to a transitional chorus and
the more powerful showcase of Coltrane’s solo. That statement seems
to bolster the performances of pianist Red Garland, bassist Paul
Chambers and drummer Philly Joe Jones, as the energy level is
raised by more than a few degrees. Yet this isn’t all due simply to
Coltrane’s performance; rather, it is the wisdom of Davis to
control how the energy built in the performance that is just as
important.
In a similar way, performances like those on “Bye Bye
Blackbird,” “Dear Old Stockholm” and “Tadd’s Delight” demonstrate
that while Davis was undoubtedly a master on the trumpet, he knew
the right moment to let his bandmates step forward and push the
music to new levels.
Still, there are times when it feels like the chemistry is still
in the experimental stage, and it takes a long time for the
listener to grasp even a partial understanding of what Davis and
crew were trying to accomplish. “All of You” is one of these
moments; a beautiful performance in and of itself, it requires a
lot of concentration on the listener’s part to fully appreciate
what is going on. For that matter, the whole album is cerebral in
many facets, and is not really suited for just putting on as
background music while you clean the house. Like the members of his
band, Davis demands that you think.
The highlight of the set is “Ah-Leu-Cha,” a Charlie Parker piece
that captures the frantic energy of jazz that I happen to love.
While I do wish that Chambers had been pushed up a little in the
mix, what the listener is presented with here is an almost
six-minute slab of raw power, sounding as fresh today as it did
nearly 50 years ago. It’s almost a good thing that this track
didn’t open the album, as that much energy so soon could have had a
negative impact on the rest of the disc.
Round About Midnight turned out to be just one transition in
Davis’s career; by the time the album was released, the band had
been broken up. (It would come back together a year later, adding
Cannonball Adderley to the mix.) While I don’t pretend to be an
expert in all things related to Davis, this disc does seem like a
very comfortable place for my fellow neophytes to start from. This
album gives the listener a good foundation in what Davis was about
without overwhelming them right from the get-go.