Time for a change of pace.
I have been reflecting a bit on some of what we pass on from generation to generation – important stories, family history, interests in literature, music, and so on. When I was growing up, our local PBS station would play footage from major jazz festivals. By the late 1970s and early 1980s, many of the major figures my dad admired (Gerry Mulligan, Dizzy Gillespie, etc.) were past their prime at least in terms of scoring hits. The cool jazz and bebop eras had ended well before I was even born. And yet they continued to create and perform as mature artists with something to say. Those moments with my dad did not seem like a big deal at the time, but I have come to treasure those moments during the decades that have passed.
My dad’s favorite artist was and still is Miles Davis. If I had a nickel for every time I heard Sketches of Spain on the record player, I might not be rich, but I could spring for steak dinners for several of you. For my dad, Miles Davis’ orchestral work with Gil Evans as well as his modal experiments (e.g., Kind of Blue) were the apex of popular music. It simply did not get better than that. Without realizing it, I developed a taste for Miles’ style early on. So when Miles was on his comeback tour around the start of the 1980s, my ears were quite ready for what he was willing and able to offer. My impression when I saw Miles perform as a musical guest on an otherwise dismal episode of SNL was that of a man who looked deceptively fragile, but who could summon enormous power once the music started. Whatever his physical state, he fed off the energy that his young backing band was providing. So I became hooked on Miles’ electric albums. In time, I’d score copies of Bitches Brew, On The Corner, Tutu, etc. Those are works I continue to treasure. What I came to realize was that Miles was someone who had a distinctive identity and style, and who was also willing to experiment (some of those experiments worked well, others perhaps not so much), and who was willing to figure out how to relate to new audiences as time went by. This was a guy who would easily lend his horn to cover tunes by Skritti Politti and Prince, and make those tunes his own, and still write fresh stuff.
The thing is, something my dad valued came to matter to me. I have been apparently doing the same with my children in different ways. My youngest is inspired by Eno, even though the context in which his work was recorded and performed is easily as alien to her as the 1950s era in which Miles recorded some of his classics was to me. Anyway, here is Miles around 1982 performing “Ife”:
Ife was a fairly intense piece when first recorded and performed back in the early 1970s. By the 1980s, it had morphed into a laid-back jam. Makes sense. The context in which he worked had changed.
I’ll try to post more later as time permits.
Here is “Ife” performed in Vienna, 1973. Also a slow burn, but with much more of an edge to it. This version at points seems menacing enough to be used in a scene where something seriously bad is about to go down – basically the buildup to the eventual catastrophe.
Since you wrote that you liked White Russians as a vodka drink, here’s one from Tipsy Bartender: Butterscotch White Russian. Consider it fulfilling a request.
He even makes the appropriate Russian jokes for this blog. Unfortunately, he didn’t get the Russian model from the last video to make it.
The bartender is taking requests.
I found the above White Russian fountain on Pinterest. A Lebowski-themed party I attended had something somewhat similar. Given that was our host’s last such party, it was a perfect note to end on. I doubt there was much of any way to top that one.
This one is timeless:
When my dad used to talk about whether or not a particular piece of music had “lasting value” this was what he had in mind. Over the years I have come to appreciate this. There are artists and perhaps specific pieces that I still find worth listening to even decades later, and when I read contemporary critical reviews, it is obvious I am not alone in my experience.
There was something almost Zen about this piece. I never could explain it. More of a gut feeling, really.
That piano solo in particular – every time. Every time.