Miles Davis - Bitches Brew

The revolution was recorded: in 1969 Bitches Brew sent a shiver through a country already quaking. It was a recording whose very sound, production methods, album-cover art, and two-LP length all signaled that jazz could never be the same. Over three days anger, confusion, and exhilaration had reigned in the studio, and the sonic themes, scraps, grooves, and sheer will and emotion that resulted were percolated and edited into an astonishingly organic work. This Miles Davis wasn't merely presenting a simple hybrid like jazz-rock, but a new way of thinking about improvisation and the studio. And with this two-CD reissue (actually, this set is a reissue of the original set plus one track, perfect for the fan who's not so overwhelmed as to need the four-CD Complete Bitches Brew box), the murk of the original recording is lifted. The instruments newly defined and brightened, the dark energy of the original comes through as if it were all fresh. Joe Zawinul and Bennie Maupin's roles in the mix have been especially clarified. With a bonus track of "Feio"--a Wayne Shorter composition recorded five months later that serves both as a warm-down for Bitches Brew and a promise of Weather Report to come--this is crucial listening. --John F. Szwed Amazon.com essential recording

 Miles Davis
Excellent; very different track almost like a jam session! You will either love it or hate it. April 21, 2008

 ABSOLUTELY BRILLIANT
I think that B*tches Brew is one of Miles Davis' greatest recordings and this is as brilliant as In A Silent Way and is one of my favorite albums in the world. On this 2-disc album there are some of the longest songs I've ever heard like Pharaoh's Dance and the amazing title track. This music makes me want to relax in my bedroom and listen to this. Just close your eyes and let this album take you on a good journey through the world. This music also changed the world too. This album is highly recommended should be in every music collection. March 11, 2008

 Strange, wonderful music
Electrified, funky, murky, energetic, experimental, pseudo-revolutionary, and controversial in the extreme, Bitches Brew is a double-LP full of dense soundscapes and strange innovation. As one of the founding albums of jazz-rock fusion, it has been criticized by some as representing a step away from jazz's complex harmonic and melodic (not mention rhythmic) ideals, and a step towards more commercial conceits. Of course, one listen to this thing will completely wipe out that notion- not only does this feature some of the most athletic and surreal musicianship ever heard on a Miles Davis record, but this is also not even remotely "commercial." I mean, two of these songs last longer than 20 minutes, and the whole thing is full of dense, intricate, and unscalable walls of sound. It's not that it it isn't fun to listen to- at times, it's simply gorgeous- but it's exactly top 40 material.

Sound-wise, it takes the meditative extended compositions of In A Silent Way to a more aggressive (at times funky) level, often slipping into moments that verge on chaos. It's not as raw or as violent as some of his later albums, especially the live ones, would become, and it certainly does have some haunting melodic textures, but the overall sound is often dense and demanding. As usual, Davis takes an ensemble approach to his band, allowing his backing players to shine just as brightly as he does. As a result, there are plenty of show-stealing moments from diverse voices, with multiple keyboards, horns, rhythmic instruments, and a guitar all clamoring for attention. This lends an elastic, fluctuating sort of groove to the proceedings. One song ("John McLaughlin") doesn't even have Miles on it. Presiding over the whole thing is producer Teo Macero, whose approach to the music was every bit as controversial as Davis': He used the studio as an instrument, constructed the songs out of various studio jams, relying on edits, loops, and studio effects, sculpting and splicing the raw musical material into the album you now hear. One could argue that this drains the music of the spontaneity and improvisational focus that have long been jazz's most exciting features. To a certain degree, this is true, but there's no denying the jam mentality that lurks beneath every note on this album. After all, the raw material was improvised, and Macero's brilliance ensures that the listener never forgets that fact, even when he or she is listening to music that's been spliced and edited.

Which, in the end, leaves us with the music. How does it measure up? Well, for the most part, it's a strange, hypnotic, dreamy (sometimes nightmarish) sonic invocation. It's full of surreal clouds of rhythm and rollicking rhythmic vamps, as well as moments of eerie tranquility and raw beauty. It sounds, in many ways, like the album's cover. The songs spill into one another, creating an organic feel that supersedes any track listing. Listen to the shifting throb of "Pharaoh's Dance," the way it ebbs and flows from a labyrinthine cluster of keyboard runs to a lopsided rhythmic lurch, setting the tone for the title track (and indeed, the rest of the album). It's really stunning stuff- I give it four stars only because it doesn't really manage to sustain interest across its double-Lp size. By the end, it's more of an unsettling sort of aural wallpaper or a dream soundtrack than a truly compelling listen. But it's still incredible stuff, and a classic album. Enjoy! January 2, 2008

 I'm "Bitches Brew," bitch...
What do we know for sure about Bitches Brew? It's history; who, when, how. It's legacy on the landscape of music. It's innovation: for the first time, a jazz album had been essentially "created" in the studio, in post-production editing. Bitches Brew is a lot of things. But when it comes to this primordial ooze, this music, the factual matters of its existence will only ever scratch its surface. If we know anything about Miles' demon child, its that its meaning continues to shape-shift in the collective consciousness of all those who hear.

Recorded in the days following Woodstock, quite literally before the smoke could settle, trumpeter Miles Davis, along with his conspirator, producer Teo Macero, were ready to change the world. They gathered the best musicians, known and unknown, all at the height of their creative powers, and then proceeded to summon monsters from the abyss out of them.

Along side Miles, to name a few, were Wayne Shorter on sax and Benny Maupin on bass clarinet. There was Chick Corea, Joe Zawinul and Larry Young on Bass. Look, there, it's Dave Holland, and he's playing the bass. There we some drummers too, Lenny White, Billy Cobham, and Jack DeJohnette. Oh yeah, and some freak of nature from the UK on guitar. His name's John McLaughlin. All of these people and more went into the recording studio with Miles on those long august nights, and yet none of them played on the album. Not a note. Under Miles Davis' voodoo running spell, each one of them was transformed into something that bears almost no resemblance to how we would recognize them.

No one is really sure how, but Miles, in all his genius, created an album with some of the most talented artists ever assembled, and made them completely irrelevant. Each musician was allowed to walk through a door Davis had discovered; a path where atonality fuses with tonality, where form gives its modest shape to noise, where descriptions analysis are made irrelevant. And after stepping through this frightening door, the 'players' on the album cease to exist.

I use the word, "frightening," with intent. You can hear the fear. Fear of being in a strange new world, almost in disbelief. These musicians had no choice but to surrender who they were. Through that surrender, came power, and ambition. They all saw something in that studio, they heard something being transmitted to them; and like gazebo music played under the bright sun of an alien home world, they jammed.

So what is it that I am going on about? Is any of what I say real? Does this have any merit in the realm of critique, where one is supposed to remain as an objective tool for discernment? Well, yes and no. This is only MY story, and for every person who experiences this album, they'll have theirs. But, I tell you: as Benny Maupin squeals in the night for some sort of salvation, crying against the rough wind of two arguing demons on keyboard, all the while being taunted by a disturbed and sadistic John McLaughlin, and suddenly Wayne Shorter appears out of nowhere, 12 minutes into the "Pharaoh's Dance," to stop the world in its misguided tracks- that, I tell you, is magic.

Bitches Brew has been called one of the most remarkable creative statements of the last half-century, in any artistic form. This statement, objectively, is true. For me, Bitches Brew has re-defined what "art" even is; anything that exists so powerfully, that can create and then build its own universe inside of you, no matter who you are, to then further propagate its own life. Bitches Brew is not art, it is alive.

J December 12, 2007

 This is what I know ...
... Miles was not a nice person. He was notoriously difficult to work for and work with during his career - yet produced some of Jazz music's most influential albums, hired the most talented and promising musicians in Jazz, and forced record companies to change the way they did business with Jazz artists. "Bitches Brew" is the album that truly typifies the kind of musician he was and the brilliant artists he demanded to have with him. Personally, I prefer the be-bop Miles Davis, but this is the album that contradicts itself, an argument back and forth between convention and avant-garde, with improvisation from start to finish. If "Kind of Blue" changed the structure of Jazz in it's time, then "Bitches Brew" changed the tone of Jazz music ... forever. It may not have enough melody for some, but it's got more color than anything he's ever produced. And frankly, he needed to record this album to release his electronic demons and eventually follow up with "Jack Johnson" (1970), "Live-Evil" (1970), "Agharta" (Live, 1975), and "Tutu" (1986) ... just to name a few.

Buy this album. You may not like it's raw sound, but you have to listen to it in order to really understand the great revolution of Jazz and why we have acid rock/jazz, progressive rock, and eventually new wave music. Buy it, listen to it, and then share it with someone who is new to modern Jazz. It's hard ... it's fringe ... it's amazing ... it's cool. It's Miles. November 13, 2007

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