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MILES DAVIS
Seven Steps: the Complete Columbia
Recordings of Miles Davis 1963 - 1964
Sony Jazz C7K90840
7CDs
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Personnel:
Disc 1: Miles Davis (trumpet); George
Coleman (tenor saxophone); Victor Feldman (piano);
Ron Carter (bass); Frank Butler (drums)
Discs 2 - 5: Miles Davis (trumpet); George
Coleman (tenor saxophone); Herbie Hancock (piano);
Ron Carter (bass); Tony Williams (drums)
Disc 6: Miles Davis (trumpet); Sam Rivers
(tenor saxophone); Herbie Hancock (piano); Ron
Carter (bass); Tony Williams (drums)
Disc 7: Miles Davis (trumpet); Wayne
Shorter (tenor saxophone); Herbie Hancock (piano);
Ron Carter (bass); Tony Williams (drums)
Track Listing:
Disc 1: 1. Joshua, 2. I Fall in Love
Too Easily, 3. Baby Won’t You Please Come Home,
4. So Near, So Far, 5. Basin Street Blues, 6.
Seven Steps to Heaven (take 3), 7. Seven Steps
to Heaven (take 5), 8. Summer Night
Disc 2: 1. Seven Steps to Heaven (rehearsal
take), 2. Seven Steps to Heaven, 3. So Near,
So Far, 4. Joshua, 5. Introduction by Andre
Francis, 6. Autumn Leaves, 7. Milestones, 8.
I Thought About You
Disc 3: 1. Joshua, 2. All of You, 3.
Walkin’, 4. Bye Bye Blackbird, 5. Bye Bye (Theme)
Disc 4: 1. Introduction by Mort Fega,
2. Autumn Leaves, 3. So What, 4. Stella By Starlight,
5. Walkin’, 6. All Of You, 7. Go-Go (Theme and
Announcement)
Disc 5: 1. Introduction by Billy Taylor,
2. All Blues, 3. My Funny Valentine, 4. Joshua,
5. I Thought About You, 6. Four, 7. Seven Steps
to Heaven, 8. There Is No Greater Love, 9. Go-Go
(Theme and Re-Introduction)
Disc 6: 1. Introduction by Teruo Isono,
2. If I Were a Bell, 3. My Funny Valentine,
4. So What, 5. Walkin’, 6. All of You, 7. Go-Go
(Theme)
Disc 7: 1. Milestones, 2. Autumn Leaves,
3. So What, 4. Stella By Starlight, 5. Walkin’,
6. Go-Go (Theme)
Fans of Miles Davis will no doubt be ecstatic
at the release of another boxed set from Sony;
the previous collections, perhaps more than
anything similar in jazz, have achieved enormous
critical acclaim, even attracting several
Grammy Awards. But as Bob Blumenthal states
in the volume’s accompanying linear notes,
Seven Steps ‘tells a different story
than the others in the Columbia / Legacy series’.
It is a not a portrait of Davis’s relationship
with other prominent musicians. Nor does it
focus on the sessions surrounding the creation
of a groundbreaking album. Rather, the theme
of the collection is the gradual formation
of what would become known as Davis’s Second
Great Quintet - with whom he would go on to
record E.S.P. Seven Steps presents
to the listener the chronological evolution
of this group through the course of six different
albums: Seven Steps to Heaven, Miles Davis
in Europe, My Funny Valentine, ‘Four’ and
More, Miles in Tokyo and Miles in Berlin.
The story of the quintet’s development begins
in early 1963, when Davis put together an
entirely new band for a series of gigs in
California. Having been recommended by John
Coltrane, George Coleman took over the saxophonist’s
position, and, in turn, introduced two fellow
Memphis musicians - Frank Strozier on alto
sax and Harold Mabern on piano. Paul Chambers
had likewise praised Ron Carter, who became
the bassist in the new group. And, whilst
Davis was keen to attain the services of drummer,
Tony Williams, the seventeen year old’s commitments
with Jackie McClean left the space open for
Frank Butler, who was selected to complete
the tour.
After several performances, Davis sensed the
need to reshape the structure of the group.
Feeling that Stozier and Mabern simply weren’t
fitting in, he substituted Victor Feldman
for Mabern and eliminated the alto sax position.
In this state, they opened for the first two
weeks at the Renaissance club. Then Miles
brought the quintet in to the studio, where
an album was recorded in two consecutive days
(April 16th and 17th, 1963).
It is these recordings that make up the first
disc of Seven Steps, setting off the
collection with some wonderful tunes, tightly
and skilfully executed by the musicians. ‘Basin
Street Blues’ is particularly striking since,
despite the notable lack of risk-taking amongst
this initial line-up, it demonstrates clearly
their capability for astonishing emotional
expression. The tune is firmly led by Davis,
who, making use of the Harmon mute, produces
a plaintive and moving sound throughout. It
is Feldman’s solo, however, that forms the
high point of the song, mixing bold, staccato
chords with loose, dreamy passages, and displaying
a strong grasp of tension and release through
perfectly placed crescendos. The pianist also
shines on ‘Summer Night’, where the finesse,
restraint and delicacy of his touch make it
clear why Davis was attracted to his playing
and even offered him a permanent position.
Unfortunately, however, this was not to be
as Feldman was reluctant to leave his work
within the Hollywood studios. And so, after
the recordings, Davis returned to New York
in search of a pianist and drummer.
By this stage Tony Williams was free to join
the group and, to complete things, Davis auditioned
Herbie Hancock, who had previously been in
Donald’s Byrd’s band. In this new form, the
group looked promising, leaving Davis, as
he mentions in his autobiography, ‘feeling
excited inside’.
His enthusiasm was justified; the initial
meeting of the quintet at Columbia studios
produced superior versions of the three compositions
attempted with the previous group. From the
beginning of ‘Seven Steps to Heaven’ on disc
2, it is clear how different this band is
from the last - bolder, freer and distinctly
more aggressive. Williams, in particular,
brings new life to the sound, with his energetic
and challenging approach. Even the already-established
musicians adopt dramatic changes in his presence.
Coleman sounds more comfortable with the tunes
and connects more clearly with Davis (particularly
so on ‘So Near, So Far’). Davis himself is
more daring and confident, as is Ron Carter
on bass; on ‘Joshua’, notably, he spans all
ranges of notes, and brings a bold and thumping
quality to the other musicians’ solos. Altogether,
the group work marvellously, achieving the
rare combination of sounding both polished
and daring. It is little wonder that after
the studio sessions, Miles put this new line-up
on the road - a musical voyage depicted over
the course of the next few discs of Seven
Steps.
The first concert covered is the Antibes Festival,
held in Juan-les-Pins in France. At first
glance, the selection of songs looks familiar
- standards and well-established Davis classics
- but, as the group begin, we realise we are
listening something entirely new. ‘Autumn
Leaves’ is strikingly bouncy and quicker-paced
than usual, giving Herbie Hancock a great
opportunity to show what he has brought to
the band. His solo is filled with rich, complex
textures and consistently challenging harmonies,
never settling for an easy option when an
interesting one exists. Williams complements
his playing perfectly, building the solo to
an intense cacophony of block chords and crashing
cymbals, and paving the way for Carter’s pensive
bowed bass solo.
This heightened sense of empathy within the
group continues on tunes like ‘Milestones’,
where Coleman’s mesmerising, highly-reflective
solo is echoed the swirling mesh of Hancock’s.
On ‘Walkin’’, similarly, the group connect
with unbelievable passion and force. Whilst
improvisation is clearly dominant, it is never
at the expense of a thematic whole; these
musicians are acutely aware that individual
virtuosity must reflect the intentions of
the group.
Disc 4 then follows the quintet to the Philharmonic
Hall in Manhattan, where they played at a
benefit in support of the efforts of various
civil rights groups. Without consulting his
fellow band members, Davis had announced that
he was waiving all fees. Naturally, words
were exchanged, and, to Davis, this explained
the phenomenal standard of the group’s work
that night: ‘I think that anger created a
fire, a tension that got in to everybody’s
playing, and maybe that’s one of the reasons
everybody played with such intensity.’ Certainly,
something had had a positive influence; this
is by far the best work to date, expertly
balancing tightness and risk. ‘So What’, as
usual, is performed considerably faster than
the version on Kind of Blue; but unlike
many similar performances, it loses nothing
from the increased pace. Davis’s soloing is
utterly breathtaking and brilliantly supported
by the rhythm section; Williams’s sense of
tension is impeccable, whilst Hancock shows
himself completely prepared to follow the
trumpeter wherever he strays. It is the ballads,
however, that truly shine. Davis playing has
never sounded so rich than in the simple,
uncluttered clarity of the classic, ‘Stella
By Starlight’. And performing open-horn on
‘My Funny Valentine’, he leads the group in
to a bolder rendition than any than have gone
before. In fact, the sense of risk that has
been growing amongst the group seems to reach
a climax here. Whilst maintaining the form
and beauty of the ballad, the performance
is free and spontaneous, with a no-holds-barred
approach to the raw expression of emotion.
Davis’s horn weeps softly one moment, then
wails with violent passion the next. Even
Coleman - generally associated with a comfortable
virtuosity - sounds completely unrestrained
on the recording, bringing about some dramatic
rhythmical changes, and managing to draw out
out an upbeat element from the largely melancholy
ballad.
Despite his efforts, however, Coleman wasn’t
entirely happy with the exploratory direction
the band was going in. Williams, in turn,
was critical of his playing; he knew that
order to break musical boundaries, one had
to be prepared to make mistakes, and that
Coleman’s style would undoubtedly inhibit
any further breakthroughs. So when Coleman
resigned, Williams took it upon himself to
find a more risky saxophonist for the group.
When US club dates and a tour of Japan approached,
Davis finally agreed to hire one of Williams’s
mentors, the notoriously avant-garde, Sam
Rivers.
From the very beginning of disc 6 (which covers
the 1964 concert in Kosheinenkin Hall, Tokyo),
it is clear how different a saxophonist he
is. His solo in ‘If I Were a Bell’ slurs from
the higher to lower registers in a way that
Coleman would never have attempted, even creating
some discordance. At one point, he relentlessly
repeats a two-note phrase that completely
dismantles the flow. Even as the solo reaches
its climax, he only ever hints at the theme
in order to return the musicians. Overall,
as Michael Cuscano puts it, the results are
‘interesting but not comfortable’. Luckily,
however, the saxophonist Davis wanted was
about to become available. His name was Wayne
Shorter and, with his presence, the Second
Great Quintet was complete. The final disc
of Seven Steps brings us one of their
earliest performances, recorded at the Berlin
Philharmonie on September 25, 1964.
On the opening tune, ‘Milestones’, the influence
of the new saxophonist is clear. His consistently
abstract, challenging phrases cause an abandonment
of the hard-swinging sound in favour of a
more spontaneous approach. Occasionally, this
can seem somewhat casual, with Williams losing
some of his force in attempting to follow
the anomalies. In general, though, the results
are pleasing, and more absorbing than anything
on the collection. ‘So What’, again, is a
delight to listen to, filled with fascinating
and unique touches. Hancock’s playing is free
and inspired, and less restricted by the tonal
demands of the other musicians. Williams,
likewise, is at his most experimental, supporting
Davis’s solo with a tribal beat that creates
usual dissonance. It is Shorter himself, however,
who really stirs things up. Supported by lively,
frenetic drum rolls and repetitive, well-placed
block chords, his solo probes in all directions,
bending notes, weak and quivering, as though
unable to settle on anything. Restlessness
is the theme, highlighted by constantly varied
rhythms and textures.
It is ‘Walkin’, though, that illustrates best
exactly what this group can do - that gives
the clearest premonition of the timeless recordings
they would go on to produce. Davis is at his
utmost best - passionate, daring and bold.
Shorter, similarly, proves his worth. Whilst
clearly aware of the blues tone, he is also
prepared to challenge it in his solo, straying
at one point to a jaunty swing, then switching
quickly to quite the opposite. Here is he
backed up brilliantly by Hancock, whose fingers
tremble eerily on minor key reflections. Finally,
both saxophonist and pianist round off their
work with hints of ‘Milestones’, both bringing
about a sense of completion, and reinforcing
the importance of theme.
Undoubtedly, this is one of the best line-ups
in jazz, and there is plenty of material available
for anyone interested in their work. But Bob
Blumenthal is right to assert that none of
this would have been possible were it not
for the events of 1963 - 64: ‘It turned out
that Miles Davis had rebuilt his music from
the rhythm section up, and - true to form
- never looked back.’ In saying this, the
value of Seven Steps is not just an
historical or esoteric one. Neither should
the collection be looked upon as merely a
picture of an eminent musician drifting through
a transitory stage. Movement, experimentation
and development are present everywhere within
Seven Steps, creating some of most
absorbing recordings that Davis ever made
- unedited and unabridged for the first time.
And what better way to present them than in
this luxuriously packaged set, complete with
painstakingly detailed notes and numerous
rare and unpublished photos? Seven Steps
may not be cheap, but to the true Miles
Davis fan, it will undoubtedly be worth every
penny. This is one of the finest jazz experiences
you are ever likely to find. It truly can
not be recommended enough.
Robert Gibson
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