I’m in the Miles High club, as any regular readers of my missives down the years will know...and as a member of that considerably large group (anyone with ears can join) excitement levels have peaked here in the bunker over the last 24 hours since I’ve been able to pick up discs being sold separately from the mammoth Complete Columbia Album Collection box from last year.
Joy of joys...it means being able to get the Isle Of Wight concert, a double disc of the Plugged Nickel shows, and the DVD of the quintet’s European tour from ’67, all of which were exclusive to The Box.
The Box is surely akin to the monolithic slab in Kubrick’s ‘Space Odyssey’, not only size-wise, but in the effect it would have should it land anywhere near you or, for that matter, on another planet. Such is the immensity of its content that I can well imagine ape-like men (ie, non-believers or, shall I say, the musically undeveloped) grunting at the sight of it, touching reluctantly, then being transformed. And as one throws his Paul Weller album into the air it magically transforms into ‘E.S.P’...
Where was I? My head’s in a spin; a common effect of being in the Miles High club. I met one member today in the shop, browsing all the Miles titles with me. I could tell he was uncertain of which to choose (not all members are total experts, myself included...’cause, you know, Miles is someone you can spend your life ‘studying’...like Buddha...or that bloke with the beard and sandals they wrote a book about ) and having opened a line of communication proceeded to recommend the Isle Of Wight gig. I also suggested the Plugged Nickel set but found out he wasn’t keen on ‘Miles Smiles’ so I steered him away from that and since he enjoyed ‘Bitches Brew’ pointed him towards other ‘live’ sets. Yes, I forgave him his inability to appreciate The Quintet because he was on the right road.
Oh, dear reader, it felt good to be of some use, to spread the gospel by helping a fellow traveller along the treacherous path through this square world. I used to preach from the Technics pulpit, an immediate and effective means, but now I only have the word...
Words almost fail me for the Isle Of Wight set. It was 1970, in case you didn’t know. On the Saturday that Miles played you could also have seen The Who, The Doors, Sly & The Family Stone and...Tiny Tim...along with others. Surely a Mojo reader’s wet dream! Mine too. Superstardom writ large! Perhaps a few of the 50,000 plus audience even remember it. Glastonbury today? Pah! And yet, we know, the way these things work, there are those who will be telling their grandchildren of the legendary ‘Glasto’ week-end where they witnessed Oasis, Orbital and...er...Ned’s Atomic Dustbin...not that I know the line-ups of various Glastonbury festivals.
So there’s all these heads, man, and the band tear into ‘Directions’ like there’s no tomorrow, no today, and no past as far as Jazz is concerned. The band are Gary Bartz, Jack DeJohnette, Chick Corea, Keith Jarrett, Dave Holland and Airto...the names say it all, really. If you know this era of Miles you’ll have an idea. The thing here is that I think it’s the funkiest set Miles must have played around this time, a concise (35min) summing up of where he was at. It’s as if Miles said ‘Sly’s in the house, let’s honour him’, or something. Not that it’s all groove because that Jazz-Funk fusion bag was too easy, too predictable for Miles. It would never have been enough. And yet, just as Michael Henderson did, Dave Holland (looking every inch the hippy himself) absolutely runs the funk voodoo down in places....on ‘Bitches Brew’...’It’s About That Time’...and ‘Spanish Key’...christ...with DeJohnette getting all fatback, you know, tight...Corea and Jarrett playing wild and throwing down big space chords...Bartz on the straight horn charming the snakes out the trees, then alto...and Airto’s quirky but somehow vital percussive touches...
And at the end He just walks off, leaving the band to finish...picks up his jacket...serious as hell, as always...but then, before disappearing, turns and gives a little wave by rippling his outstretched fingers...
You can watch the whole gig here.
I need to get back down to earth somehow...
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