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- 50 great moments in jazz: How Miles Davis's second quintet changed jazz
In 1964, Miles Davis responded to free jazz by enlisting a group of untried talents who would challenge, rather than flatter, his remarkable trumpet sound. It was a gamble that paid off ...
It's hard to think of a more significant influence on the small jazz ensembles of the last four decadesthan Miles Davis's second quintet, formed in the mid 60s. Davis was reacting to John Coltrane and Ornette Coleman's pioneering work and absorbing their structure-loosening innovations into his own music – just as he had done on at least three occasions since he first fought his way into Charlie Parker's 1945 group by a mixture of guile, persistance and raw talent. Back then, the young Davis had changed bebop's nervous sound with softer tones and spacious solos – a development that informed the Birth of the Cool sessions, with more languorous bop lines folded into sumptuous ensemble harmonies. Then came Davis's rejection of established jazz chords with 1959's Kind of Blue, as well as collaborations with big-band composer/arranger Gil Evans that produced jazz concertos such as Porgy and Bess and Sketches of Spain.
But by the 60s, jazz was being shaken up by the fearless (some might say foolhardy, or even unlistenable) challenges of musicians such as Coltrane, Coleman and pianist Cecil Taylor. The exploratory artist in Davis drew him toward these liberating possibilities, but he needed the attention of a broader audience. His reaction to free jazz was to reinvent his quintet with untried talents to see what would happen. Davis hired 16-year-old drum prodigy Tony Williams, fast-rising pianist Herbie Hancock (whose jazz-improv and pop instincts appealed to Davis), plus the Coltrane-esque Wayne Shorter on sax and bass powerhouse Ron Carter.
The band quickly became Davis's finest group. Their solos were fresh and original, and their individual styles fused with a spontaneous fluency that was simply astonishing. The quintet's method came to be dubbed "time, no changes" because of their emphasis on strong rhythmic grooves without the dictatorial patterns of song-form chords. At times they veered close to free-improvisation, but the pieces were as thrilling and hypnotically sensuous as anything the band's open-minded leader had recorded before.
Davis employed such unruly young sidemen not to flatter his remarkable trumpet sound, but to challenge it. I interviewed Hancock for the Guardian some years ago, and he described Davis's demand that his talented new partners, respectfully nervous of their boss's legendary ego at first, should turn up the heat on him. "Tony and I had got into the habit of playing all kinds of mixed rhythms ... so we started playing some of those rhythm things behind Miles too, things that were hard to predict, would sometimes swing and sometimes float. The first night we did it he stopped a lot in his solos, jerked around as if he was uncomfortable, not sure what to do, trying to find his way. Next day, he was more at ease, playing longer phrases, but still not into it. Then by the last set on the next day, he wasn't struggling with it any more at all. In fact he played so many unexpected things himself that it was me that was jerking around! In less than 24 hours Miles had not just grabbed the ball, but run beyond us with it."
The "second great quintet" first indicated the bridges it would build between Davis's post Kind of Blue work and his subsequent enigmatic music on 1964's Miles in Berlin, made after Shorter joined. Then came the remarkable sequence of albums such as ESP, The Sorcerer, Nefertiti, Miles in the Sky (hinting at the beginnings of jazz rock, with Hancock introducing the Fender Rhodes), Filles de Kilimanjaro and the stunning Live At the Plugged Nickel – but that's another story.
guardian.co.uk © Guardian News & Media Limited 2010 | Use of this content is subject to our Terms & Conditions | More FeedsПереслать - New music at Iceland Airwaves: Hjaltalín - Sweet Impressions
A dash of Arcade Fire here, a soupçon of Sufjan Stevens there – this Reykjavík band craft compellingly lovely songs
This eight-piece from Reykjavik are pretty big in Iceland, having topped the charts with their debut album Sleepdrunk Seasons. Combining strings, horns and bassoon, Hjaltalín create a mélange of melody, anchored by singer Hogni Egilsson's slightly frayed vocals. Touchstones may be obvious – a dash of Arcade Fire here, a soupçon of Sufjan Stevens there – but there's something beautiful about the way in which they craft a song. Sweet Impressions is taken from their new album, Terminal.
Hjaltalín play the Heineken stage at Iceland Airwaves on Friday 15 October
guardian.co.uk © Guardian News & Media Limited 2010 | Use of this content is subject to our Terms & Conditions | More FeedsПереслать - This charming plan (to cover every single Smiths song)
Janice Whaley might have a job and a toddler but that didn't stop her taking on a time-consuming project to reimagine every Smiths record. Luckily, the results are stunning
"The feat of a true apostle" – that's how Simon Goddard, author of The Smiths: The Songs That Saved Your Life, puts it. "Once it's over you shall be officially anointed Saint Janice of Smithdom."
Morrissey may not be the messiah – on the contrary, he's a very naughty boy – but the religious analogy is perfect. For if the Smiths provoke that most evangelical breed of fanaticism (I once met a chap whose wife offered him the ultimatum of "It's either Moz or me" – he now lives alone) then San Francisco's Janice Whaley is embarking upon a pilgrimage of biblical scale. Forty days and nights in the desert? Pah! Try 365 days and nights trying to fit in a full-time job, a hyperactive toddler and an homage to every song Bigmouth and co ever committed to record. That's the ambition of The Smiths Project – a tribute like no other.
Understandably, in an age where any note-strangling ninny can scream into the World Wide Abyss, this may fail to sound astounding – but Janice is no ninny and she certainly doesn't strangle notes. If anything, she's testament to just how charming, creative and arduous the modern tribute can be. While the last decade saw the rise of the cover as an ironic novelty, her versions are fuelled by something sincere: a passion for the songs that defined her life and a compulsion to make them all wonderfully hers.
From the soul-destroying Walmart job she quit after listening to Heaven Knows I'm Miserable Now to the recent deaths of two friends that inspired her to turn again to music (a passion she had long neglected), Janice earnestly and honestly relates her life through songs which – as a fan – you hear anew. Sweet and Tender Hooligan goes from a jangle-fest to the song at the end of the world; Some Girls Are Bigger Than Others is dragged kicking and screaming into dystopianism; Still Ill burns with eerie slowness; This Charming Man becomes a ballad and if I Know It's Over – Morrissey's lament from the abattoir of love – wasn't enough to tear down the world of the broken-hearted before, Janice's rendition has Cupid turning the arrow on himself.
They've proved good enough to win over fans that usually despise covers ("The Smiths Project, loved by haters!" she says) but, to me, Janice's greatest achievement has been to highlight and detach the art from the artist – or, in this case, the brilliant songs from the solipsistic dope of questionable quotes.
Featuring no instruments at all, her arrangements are constructed entirely from layers of vocals using a dodgy old microphone and the Pro Tools production software left under her Christmas tree last year.
"Typically, every track has 20-30 layers of vocals or drums and they take about 20-30 hours each to complete," she explains over the phone while her three-year-old son plays loudly in the background. "That time is spread out over any time that I'm alone in the house or haven't got my 'Mommy' hat on. I've essentially given myself a part-time job's worth of a task. Without pay! What have I done?"
It's a fair question. With this week's posting of her 54th effort, a characteristically menacing version of Panic, she has 20 tracks (or around 600 hours of work) to go. At the moment she's averaging one song a week, but has to step it up to two to stand any chance of seeing in the new year triumphant. It's going to be tight, although given what she's achieved already there's hardly anything to feel disheartened about. Janice, take a bow.
guardian.co.uk © Guardian News & Media Limited 2010 | Use of this content is subject to our Terms & Conditions | More FeedsПереслать - New music at Iceland Airwaves: For a Minor Reflection – Dansi Dans
Without resorting to cliches about Iceland, we'd describe these epic, widescreen, glacial post-rockers as ... oh
In the same way that the perceived personality of Björk dominates people's perceptions of Iceland and its music, the slow-burning sound of Sigur Ros has also become shorthand for EPIC. Yes, these four 20-year-old lads (and two ladies with cellos) are performing a slow-burn song of epic loveliness on a pebbly beach beneath a breathtaking cliff face. And yes, they've toured with Sigur Ros and have been compared to Mogwai. But sometimes you just have to leave cynicism to one side and say, "You know what? That was lovely and I have something in my eye, thank you very much."
For a Minor Reflection play Iceland Airwaves on Friday 15 October and Dansi Dans can be downloaded for free
guardian.co.uk © Guardian News & Media Limited 2010 | Use of this content is subject to our Terms & Conditions | More FeedsПереслать
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