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Much is made \u2013 and rightly so \u2013 of Miles Davis\u2019 landmark 1970 release Bitches Brew<\/i>. The album represented Davis\u2019 adventurous foray into the (previously unoccupied) space in which rock and jazz coexisted. True, others had made moved toward bridging the gap between the two genres, but none had done so as forcefully and uncompromisingly as Miles Davis.<\/p>\n
Still, in the eyes and ears of many rock fans, there\u2019s nothing particularly \u201crock\u201d about Bitches Brew<\/i>. Its abstract, often amelodic character arguably has little in common with rock’s sonic qualities.<\/p>\n
In fact, Bitches Brew<\/i> sounds less like a combination of jazz and rock than do Colosseum\u2019s The Grass is Greener<\/i> and Booker T & the M.G.s\u2019 McLemore Avenue<\/i>, two important albums released at nearly the same moment as Davis\u2019 opus. At its core, Bitches Brew<\/i> represents a merging of jazz and rock sensibilities more so than a joining of their styles. And that distinction shouldn\u2019t \u2013 doesn\u2019t<\/i> \u2013 take away from its significance a single bit.<\/p>\n
But here\u2019s the thing: though the creatively restless musician would soon head off \u2013 in inimitable Davis style \u2013 in yet another wholly different direction, Miles wasn\u2019t quite through with his rock-jazz (jazz-rock?) experimentation. And by some measures, the studio project that followed in the wake of Bitches Brew<\/em> is in fact closer in sound and spirit to what has long been claimed for the double album.<\/p>\n Some could argue that Jack Johnson<\/i> \u2013 released in February 1971, less than a year after its better-known studio predecessor \u2013 shouldn\u2019t be considered part of Davis\u2019 studio album canon. It was, after all, conceived as the soundtrack to a film. William Cayton\u2019s Academy-award-nominated documentary Jack Johnson<\/em> chronicled the life of the celebrated African American boxer, and Davis had been asked to provide music for the film. He did so, using many of the same musicians who had joined him for the Bitches Brew<\/i> sessions.<\/p>\n Two 1970 sessions \u2013 nearly two months apart \u2013 yielded the imposing album, an LP that in its original format would feature only two pieces of music: the side-long compositions (\u201cconstructions\u201d might be a more apt descriptor; more on that forthwith) \u201cRight Off\u201d and \u201cYesternow.\u201d Each track ran in excess of 25 minutes, and each was in many ways as fiercely uncompromising as anything on Bitches Brew<\/i>.<\/p>\n Poster for the 1970 film<\/p><\/div>\n Yet the album rocks<\/i>, and does so in a way that Bitches Brew<\/i> rarely does. With virtuoso electric guitarist John McLaughlin returning from the previous album\u2019s sessions, the band is on fire as it funkifies its way through \u201cRight Off.\u201d Davis spits out phrases on his trumpet that root the music in jazz, but the rhythm section of Billy Cobham and Michael Henderson locks the groove into the rock idiom. It swings, yes, but the smoldering, sinister vibe of rock \u2018n\u2019 roll is omnipresent.<\/p>\n McLaughlin makes intelligent, non-indulgent use of his wah-wah pedal, and while \u201cRight Off\u201d occasionally feels like a jam, its one-chord format draws from the best of solid rock and improvisational jazz. About halfway through the piece, most of the players sit out, leaving Henderson (who successfully explores just how much he can do with his electric bass while staying inside the one-chord framework), soprano saxophonist Steve Grossman and \u2013 most unexpectedly \u2013 Herbie Hancock, jamming away on what I\u2019m pretty sure is a Farfisa(!) organ.<\/p>\n Now, the lowly Farfisa wasn\u2019t an instrument generally associated with jazz. Instead, the quirky Italian machine was a favorite of garage rock combos; it\u2019s thought of in the context of ? and the Mysterians and countless garage-psych purveyors than anything approaching serious jazz. But it works; Hancock approaches the instrument as if encountering it for the first time, with a sense of wonder that can bring.<\/p>\n Certainly, \u201cRight Off\u201d heads off in some other directions afterward. And the switch in tone and approach can seem a bit jarring. In fact the band probably didn\u2019t play it that way: as with Bitches Brew<\/i>, Davis and producer Teo Macero employed the \u201cstudio as instrument\u201d approach, cutting, splicing and re-compiling the source tapes from the session to create something that, perhaps, the musicians might not have recognized as that which they had recorded.<\/p>\n It\u2019s left to others \u2013 well, to us<\/i> \u2013 to decide if the cut-and-paste method works. To my ears, it does, and one must accept that studio post-production fiddling as every bit an equal \u201cplayer\u201d on the sessions. Toward the end of \u201cRight Off,\u201d McLaughlin peels off some searing leads that (for some) might call to mind Frank Zappa\u2019s playing of the early to middle 1980s. Exciting stuff to be sure.<\/p>\n![\"\"](\"http:\/\/blog.musoscribe.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/02\/jack_johnson_poster.jpg\")