Illegal Foreign Object

Blame Betty Davis (if you must). Blame her for her unique style, her air of “cool”, and her love of psychedelic rock. Blame her for stripping away the façade, for exposing the bones, the leaky pipes, the rat-eaten wiring. Blame her (and probably guitarist John McLaughlin) for introducing him to the music of Jimi Hendrix. Blame Betty for ushering Miles Davis, the man who once gave us Birth Of The Cool while wearing an immaculate suit and “playing the game”, into an era of sinew, sweat, and unrelenting, throbbing groove.

With Betty, Miles was able to let down his guard. Her strength enabled his strength, good, bad, and ugly. His willingness to turn his authentic self back onto the listener — to poke, smack, confuse, and bludgeon the listener — resulted in one of the most fantastically creative eras of Miles’ stellar career.

On Miles in the Sky, Miles Davis teased what would ultimately become a seamless slide into the jazz-rock fusion vibe that would consume him for much of the remainder of his life. This album also marked the first time Herbie Hancock would play an electric piano on a record, an instrument he would introduce into his solo recordings to great success.

The critical eye might slot Miles In The Sky as more of a transitional album than anything earth-shatteringly distinctive, and such a critique cannot be dismissed out of hand; it’s hardly Davis’ most celebrated work. It is, however, at least in my opinion, an album he needed to make to bridge from the more traditional jazz sounds of Sketches Of Spain and Kind Of Blue to the jazz-rock fusion brilliance of Bitches Brew (an exercise in improvisational artistry) and On The Corner (Davis’ hard-earned attempt to connect to a younger crowd which had eschewed jazz for rock and funk).

Miles and Co. set the pace on track one, the 17-minute “Stuff”, a song that somehow manages to groove while simultaneously throwing haymakers (think “Sugar” Ray Leonard w/ Marvelous Marvin Hagler’s hands). It’s Miles careening face-first into something “ugly”; a wellspring of unconventional shapes and sounds previously tapped by Ornette Coleman and John Coltrane.

“Paraphernalia” follows. Tony Williams rides the hi-hat aggressively throughout, mixing in the odd roll or crash while Miles, Herbie, and Wayne Shorter take turns painting a masterpiece. George Benson also appears on this track, playing the main riff, the first time Miles allowed an electric guitar on one of his tunes.

“Black Comedy” is next to take flight, dipping, diving, and swirling like starlings awash in an intricately chaotic murmuration. Tony Williams shines once again, holding the world together while simultaneously time (and space) shifting throughout.

The final track on the album is “Country Son”, a song that is perhaps best described as Bitches Brew choking the life out of Kind of Blue. It’s Miles Davis burning all the boats back to traditional jazz and Hard Bop.

Miles in the Sky was released on this date in 1968; the last full-length record he’d record solely with his powerhouse “Second Great Quintet” of Wayne Shorter, Herbie Hancock, Ron Carter, and Tony Williams. It is Davis’ introduction to his “electric” period; a time when Miles’ music most closely resembled the tumult that churned within him. Transitional though it may well be, it is required listening, nonetheless, and signaled the beginning of what is remembered as an era of creative apex.

Track List:

1. Stuff 9/10
2. Paraphernalia 8/10
3. Black Comedy 7/10
4. Country Sun 7/10

Grade: 78