BITCHES BREW LIVE by Miles Davis

The title of this album is misleading.  Reading it, you'd be forgiven for thinking that this is simply a live recording of Miles and his band performing his seminal 1970 album Bitches Brew in its entirety.  But if you know a little about that album, you'll know that a live version of that material faithful enough to justify this record's title is an unlikely proposition.  Bitches Brew was created by Miles directing his 13-strong band in collective improvisation for hours at a time, in his quest to meld rock, funk and jazz into a revolutionary hybrid of musical forms.  The results were cut and pasted by pioneering producer Teo Macero into several vaguely coherent pieces of music which then became the album.  A brilliant combination of composition, musicianship and studio trickery thus resulted in one of the most important albums of the 20th century, but such unusual origins obviously made this music difficult to recreate in a live setting.

While it's true that these Frankenstein tracks would become the basis for many of Miles' live sets during the 1969-71 early electric period, that's all they ever were.  Despite Miles' love of the groove and rhythm venerated by funk, he remained a jazz musician at heart, and jazz for him was all about improvisation.  It's not surprising, then, that the recorded music from Bictches Brew serves purely as a point of departure for the fresh improvisations captured on Bitches Brew Live.  The first 3 tracks on this release come from a performance at the Newport Jazz Festival in July 1969, which actually took place a month prior to the recording sessions for Bitches Brew.  Despite these tracks being named after pieces from the studio album (and in the case of track 3, one from the previous album - In A Silent Way), one can hear only snatches of the music which would crystalise during the recording and editing sessions in August of that year.  In fairness, Wayne Shorter's Sanctuary is recognisable in all of its varied permutations, thanks to its powerful, dominating horn theme which floats above the rhythmic tumult underpinning the track, but Miles Runs The Voodoo Down and It's About That Time are connected to their recorded namesakes only in the most tenuous of ways.  The band here is only a quartet, which results in what was a remarkably stripped-down sound for Miles at the time.  There's a lot of reliance on Chick Corea's electric piano, and since much of the music is still in an embryonic stage this is a nice opportunity to hear the furtive beginnings of what would become a paradigm-shifting transformation.

The remainder of this album, however, is an entirely different proposition.  If the release of Bitches Brew first announced the arrival of a whole new way of making music, then this bold statement was fully cemented by Miles and his band with their legendary performance at the 1970 Isle of Wight festival.  In front of a crowd of half a million rock and folk fans, they unleased the full power of of the musical monster they'd created in a single, 34 minute improvisation, propelled unrelentingly by the dark grooves concocted by Jack DeJohnette (drums) and Dave Holland (bass).  It's important to stress that this performance was an original, improvised piece of music, long referred to by fans as "Call It Anything", after Miles' response when asked post-gig what the piece should be named.  Indeed, it appears on its previous (and only) official release as Call It Anything; the bonus track on a 3-disc compilation of Miles' 80s live recordings.  What I find perplexing, therefore, is Columbia's decision to finally give it a proper release only to split it into 6 tracks, and market it under the name Bitches Brew Live.  This peformance has passed into the folklore of both rock and jazz, and it's not like it wouldn't have sold under its own name, so an attempt to cash in on the title of Bitches Brew seems pointless.  It's also misleading because the music only occasionally references the recorded material with which the sleeve notes have identified it, thus compromising the performance's independence from the album.

But griping aside, it's great to hear a decent recording of this wonderful piece of music.  A year had passed since the performance captured on the first 3 tracks of this disc, and the funk had well and truly seeped into the band's playing and improvising by this point.  In particular, it's impressive to hear how funky Dave Holland's playing has become as his electric bass punches through the mix and (along with DeJohnette's dextrous drum rolls) weaves a deep groove which dominates the feel of the music.  The collective jamming of keyboards, saxophone, bass, drums and percussion at times sounds in danger of becoming cacophonous, but Miles' trumpet always returns to the fray to guide the rest of the band.  His playing is sensational its own right, but what is truly fascinating is the way in which he uses certain phrases and runs to prod his musicians in the direction he desires, whether it's the gentle, descending notes he uses to reduce a frenetic boil to a bubbling simmer, or the sudden crescendo he hurtles into during the last minutes of the performance to summon up a visceral groove to act as a finale.  The playing from everyone on stage is inspired, as you'd expect from such masters of their craft.  Miles made a habit of surrounding himself with musicians at the top of their game, and the almost telepathic interplay between Chick Corea and Keith Jarrett's warring electronic keyboards, the flexibility of the rhythm section and Gary Bartz' shimmering sax playing are all a testament to that.  The performance is full of great moments, but my own personal favourite comes about 10 minutes in, when Dave Holland (reading Miles's intentions perfectly) takes one of the bass parts from the title track of Bitches Brew and morphs it into the ugliest, sludgiest riff you'll ever hear from a jazz man.  Jack DeJohnette's synchopated snare hits encircle the groove, and the whole band are dragged into an atmospheric vamp that seems almost beyond their control.

By the time the performance had ended, the crowd at Isle of Wight had been won over.  You can hear their elation in the background following the last note, and it's hard not to feel the same.  What is it that makes this performance so exiciting?  The improvised nature of it, that's what!  The band's whole performance is lit up by the nervous energy felt by musicians who, despite their considerable ability, have no idea where the next note is coming from.  The tension at times is almost unbearable and it's thrilling to listen to, but then that's the beauty of improvised music.  It's said that when he was composing, Mozart felt like he could get inside his symphonies and change them from within, as though they were some sort of physical structure.  That's what you can hear Miles Davis doing during the performance from the Isle of Wight; wading into a mass of music and guiding its creation in the moment of its genesis.  This performance is utterly unique, which makes its being labelled as merely a recreation of Bitches Brew all the more confusing.