| | Kind of Blue
No, that's not how I feel. That's the album by Miles Davis I'm listening to. They used to say that if you want to hear where music will be in ten years, listen to what Miles is doing now. Well, Miles hasn't been with us for some time, but his music is still incredibly forward-thinking.
A lot of people will probably tell you that if you've never listened to jazz before, starting with Miles Davis would be too much of a shock to the system. Some think you should start with earlier stuff, such as early Louis Armstrong, and progress from there. I think beginning your jazz listening experience with Louis Armstrong is similar to beginning a classical listening journey with Leonin and Perotin (two Medieval composers). With classical music, we usually tell people to pick someone from a later period than that (often Mozart and Beethoven) and then move backward from there (Bach and Handel, Palestrina, Josquin) as well as forward (Brahms, Mahler, Debussy, Stravinsky).
In the same way, I think Miles is a great place to start in listening to jazz, provided you know some basics of American music (and most of us do, even if we don't realize it). For example, you know the structure of a basic 12-bar blues, whether you know you do or not. You hear it in songs as diverse as "Hound Dog" and "Route 66." The 12-bar blues is a foundation for much of 20th century (and 21st century) American music. Knowing what that sounds like, what it feels like, take a listen to "Freddie Freeloader" on Kind of Blue and see how Miles gently plays with the form, taking us where we don't expect to go. Then listen as each of the soloists takes an incredible improvisational journey over this unconventional blues (if one can still call it that). John Coltrane, Cannoball Adderly, Bill Evans, Wynton Kelly . . . every musician on this album is absolutely incredible.
Miles introduces modalism into jazz with this album, and thereby broadens the scope of what a musician could do with a solo in a jazz number. Imagine it this way: before Kind of Blue one could either play in black and white or sepia tone (major or minor). After Kind of Blue, a musician had all the colors of the spectrum available to him.
So what is jazz? It's easier to give examples of it than it is to define it. But an attempt at a definition would be: jazz is a uniquely American form of music, birthed in New Orleans through a great amalgam of sources, combining the melodic and harmonic sophistication of European art music (what we call "classical music", but it is much broader than the classical period alone), African rhythms, Gospel, blues, and many other influences. An essential feature of jazz is improvisation. Jazz is improvisational. Without improvization, you don't have jazz. Gershwin's Rhapsody in Blue is a heavily jazz-influenced piece, but it is completely scripted, so strictly speaking it is not jazz. The music of Debussy and Poulenc at many points are very "jazzy", but they are not jazz. Charlie Parker is jazz. James Moody is jazz. McCoy Tyner is jazz.
And, in a more profound way, Miles Davis is jazz. Miles Davis is jazz.
Now, how to listen to jazz. First of all, jazz requires active listening. This is not music that you can just have going on in the background (well, you can, but it's kind of like trying to find a Kandinsky that matches the sofa). Neither is this good "car music". Neither is classical music, for that matter. Engine noise and road noise do not produce an environment that is conducive to listen to music with subtleties or big dynamic contrasts (which both jazz and classical music have). This is music to put on when you can concentrate on listening. And if you've never done that--listened to music for listening's sake--try it: it's a great exercise in attention. Throughout a typical day, we rarely have to focus on something so abstract for so long. It will make you exercise brain "muscles" you never knew you had.
OK, so you've got a quiet room and you've got the CD in. Now what? Typically, you'll first hear a statement of the melody or theme of the piece, sometimes called the "head." Often in jazz this will be a standard (say, something like "Autumn Leaves" or "I'm in the Mood for Love"). With Miles, it usually isn't a standard: it's more often an original composition. Still, listen to the melody and sort of hold it in your mind. After the melody is stated one time through (often by the whole ensemble), listen as each player (or many of the players) in the ensemble takes a turn playing an improvised solo or "ride" on that stated theme. No, you won't hear the melody. But listen to the bass. It will keep you anchored in the harmonic structure of the piece. Then listen as the soloist has a sort of internal conversation between himself and the melody, only you won't hear the melody. You'll only hear the soloist's side of the conversation. Listen to each note he plays as if you were hearing him speak, and you're hanging on his every word. Listen as he explores the harmonic space created by the melody, and even as he pushes the boundaries of that space, as his improvised melodies suggest harmonies which create layers on top of the original melody and harmonies as overlapping fabrics create a moire effect.
Almost inevitably, the last two solos are the bass and the drums. Bass solos in jazz are one of the reasons that jazz is not good car music. In jazz, the bass is a bass, it is not (as many jazz musicians say) "the electric paddle". And a bass is a quiet instrument. A bass solo requires you either to strain to hear it, or to turn up your stereo so loud that when the ensemble comes back in, you suffer hearing loss. The drum solo is a place where a lot of people get lost. Try to count your way through it and see how the drummer lays multiple patterns of rhythm on top of the basic beat of the piece (which he will often keep in the cymbals, while everything else goes far afield). Sometimes the rest of the rhythm section (piano and bass) will keep you abreast of where we are on the map: not always. Just listen, and wonder.
Eventually, everyone will come back in for a final statement of the head, with some kind of coda at the end. Jazz, by its nature as an improvisational art form, is a live medium, so there is typically no "repeat and fade" (and how worn out is that little studio trick by now anyway?).
Give Kind of Blue a listen. After that, check out The Birth of the Cool, Miles Ahead, and Miles Smiles. |
