“The 40th Anniversary of Miles Davis Bitches Brew” at L.A.’s Grammy Museum

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by A. Scott Galloway

A filled-to-capacity room of luminaries and devotees packed the intimate Grammy Museum on September 2, 2010, in downtown Los Angeles to celebrate the 40^th anniversary of Miles Davis’ jazz fusion juggernaut, Bitches Brew.  Originally released in 1970 as a 2-Lp set - highly unusual then for a jazz album - the gold-selling project became a touchstone for jazz artists to reach younger, broader audiences thanks to the music being buoyed by funk and rock rhythms, sonic textures from other parts of the world, and the presence of electronic instruments.

The event coincided with the re-release of a special CD boxed set edition of Bitches Brew from Legacy/Columbia Records with bonus tracks, a new liner note essay by Greg Tate, and a bonus DVD of a never before issued concert featuring Davis in the era with a quartet (rare) that consisted of Chick Corea on Fender Rhodes electric piano, Dave Holland on bass, and Jack DeJohnette on drums.  The evening began with a too-brief peek at just a portion of a performance from this concert.

The host for the evening was jazz and blues radio personality Bubba Jackson of KKJZ-FM.  His self-effacing wit, musical knowledge, ease-putting warmth and ability to keep things moving made this one of the best hosted events of its kind at the Grammy Museum to date.  The panel he had to work with, however, was wildly uneven.  On one hand, there was Miles’ youngest son Erin Davis and his nephew Vince Wilburn (who played drums in his late `80s/early `90s bands) – both representing Miles Davis Properties, LLC - actor Don Cheadle (who is endeavoring to bring Davis’ story to the big screen and star in the film) and, best of all, saxophonist/bass clarinetist Bennie Maupin who actually played on the Bitches Brew sessions.  All of their commentary and anecdotes were illuminating, particularly Maupin who stole the evening with recollections both profound and humorous.  On the other end of the panel were radio DJs Maggie LePique, Henry Rollins (a former punk rock musician) and DJ Jeremy Sole, the latter also a music producer, club DJ and “crate digging” record collector who had the most penetrating say representing today’s generation and their perspective on the Davis mystique.

Setting the pace, Jackson began things introducing himself as a Harlemite who got his early `70s break in radio at KDEX in Denver where he stumbled on Davis’ music while thinking he was way cool playing the likes of Grover Washington Jr. and Bob James.  He spoke of the mind-expanding hipness that Davis’ music offered especially since he was working the overnight shift (2-6 AM) back then and could occasionally get away with playing Miles’ 20+ minute epics uncut – the ultimate in cool.

Rollins, who has a specialty program on influential college outlet KCRW, offered general historical tidbits of the era before sharing that Bitches Brew was the first album he ever listened to with the lights off, saying the sensory shut off amplified Miles’ playing against the locomotive rhythms for an unforgettable experience.  Meanwhile LePique, who has a jazz program on KPFK, admitted that she didn’t care for Miles’ early electric period until she had a chance encounter with bassist Jaco Pastorius of Weather Report, after which she used that band’s music to lead her back to “the source of it all.”  Conversely, Chicago-raised Sol dubbed Davis’ music “the front door to the deep end” of his jazz record collecting jones.

Family members Erin and Vince shared the personal side of Miles, relaying great stories of his well-known loves for cooking and boxing, how he changed clothes – as in complete outfits - several times a day, and how he was a lot funnier and less menacing than people would expect, though they also admitted he didn’t reveal this softer side to just anybody.  And he was always serious about his music.  Vince Wilburn witnessed, “When you played with Miles, you had to be prepared for anything.  He had me lookin’ up under my cymbals to follow his cues.”  Erin Davis was the brunt of some funny testosterone-building father/son experiences.  “He used to make me do runs on the beach and hit the heavy bag with him during boxing training.  Even in his 60s he was still quick.  (Keyboardist) Joe Zawinul, who was very good friends with Miles, swore they never talked about music – just boxing.”

Cheadle, who arrived fashionably late and was called to the stage, surprised the room when he shared, “I’ve been playing saxophone since I was 10 years old.  Miles’ Porgy & Bess is the first album I ever heard of his.  In concert, Miles wanted the music to be raw, which is why I feel such a kinship to him.  That same rawness is what actors live for.”  Politely addressing an audience member’s insistence that the darker side of Davis reputation be dealt with, Cheadle reasoned, “His rough exterior was his shield from the vicissitudes of life.  Ultimately, he was very sensitive and that’s the place he created from.”

Also called from the audience was “the first Mrs. Miles Davis,” Francis Davis, who spoke about her influence being what led Miles to flamenco music and his classic recording Sketches of Spain.  It all started when she insisted he accompany her to a performance by Roberto Iglesias while she was in Barcelona performing as one of the great Katherine Dunham’s dancers.  “When we left that theatre that night, Miles bought every flamenco record he could get his hands on, and then he called (arranger) Gil Evans to tell him, ‘This is what I want to do!’”  Francis also brought the house down with proof of the imprint she left on his mind.  “I would dance around the house in next to nothing while I did the cooking so he paid good attention to me, you see.  Years later he pointed to one of his sketches and told me, ‘That’s your ass!’”

For anyone specifically interested in the recording of the hour, Bennie Maupin’s words were like gold.  “I was 27 when I got the call,” he began.  “I had always wanted to play with him so it was an honor...but a brutha was a lil’ terrified!  I thought I was going to be playing tenor, but he had already heard me playing bass clarinet with McCoy Tyner one night a Slug’s.  He would drive up on the side in his Ferrari and block the street for like ten minutes just to peek inside and check out what was happenin.”  Recalling the sessions for Bitches Brew, he said, “People like to think that all of that ‘out’ music was recorded late at night but the sessions were from 10am to 1pm – then Miles would leave to go to the gym.  Miles was very healthy then.  Miles was also always the first musician in the studio every morning, along with (producer) Teo Macero and the engineer.  I saw him as a real leader.  There were no people around that didn’t have any business being there.  The only guest visitor we had was (classical musician) Andre’ Previn.”

Getting deeper into the construction of the music, Maupin continued, “On one session we had some staff paper with a few notes on it, but he never said play this or that, which was a little unnerving.  He’d start with the rhythm (drummers Lenny White, Jack DeJohnette and percussionist Don Alias) to set the texture and feel.  Then he’d look at me and say, ‘play somethin’.  He wanted to hear the ‘free’ stuff I played with Marion Brown and Archie Shepp.  It was through all of this that I began to learn the power of non-verbal communication.”  Maupin remembers it as “an amazing experience” and a highlight of his career.   “What I remember is I don’t remember much,” he quipped, “except that I was in that studio standing between two giants – Miles and Wayne (Shorter).  His insight and foresight was fascinating…  While we were making that record, I didn’t talk – to my neighbors or anybody.  I barely even ate!  After the sessions, (guitarist) John McLaughlin and I would go to a vegetarian restaurant then to a music store to read scores, and then I’d go home and just ‘be’ in silence…thinking about Miles and the profound effect he was having on us all.  Never once did he express any dissatisfaction with anything that anyone played…but he tested everybody’s level of courage.”

The spirit of Miles Davis would surely have loved the fact that Don Cheadle summed up his genius most succinctly for the evening not with a statement but with a question.  “Who reaches a pinnacle then decides to change everything?”

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