Miles Davis
In Person At The Blackhawk, San Francisco - Saturday Night

THE REVIEW

The second day is always better than the first. In this case, Saturday is better than Friday, which was already outstanding. Some tracks ("Walkin'", "If I Were A Bell", "On Green Dolphin Street", etc.) appear on both "Saturday Night" and "Friday Night", but this does not detract from the freshness and identity of either record.

Miles seems to return a bit to his bebop roots, his trumpet screeches and drives us crazy, contrasting with the more amiable sax of Hank Mobley. One of his last appearances alongside Davis, who no longer liked (and perhaps never completely liked) his playing style. Yet here, as elsewhere, Mobley proves to be a great musician, whose strokes do not clash with the colors painted by the quintet. But simply, Miles had not yet forgotten John Coltrane, and it is understandable. His shadow, which would sit nearby to listen to every saxophonist of the group at least until Wayne Shorter, is particularly oppressive on Hank Mobley. The choice of a repertoire that definitely has something Coltranean is proof enough, just think of "'Round Midnight", "Two Bass Hit", and "So What". A "So What" quite different from that of "Kind Of Blue", here there is no smoky atmosphere, the tempo is speeded up, it focuses more on impact, there is more aggressiveness (as in the entire album, by the way). And it is precisely in "So What" that Mobley clearly quotes, during his solo, the theme of "Mr. P.C.". A thank you and an encouragement to Paul Chambers who shared the stage with him, but also an obvious thought to Coltrane, who wrote and recorded that piece on "Giant Steps". It almost seems like a challenge, and it's certainly proof that the aforementioned ghost is very much present.

Setting aside comparisons and considerations that ultimately do not really matter, we are talking about great music. About a successful evening, five musicians in the mood (Wynton Kelly on piano, Jimmy Cobb on drums), people applauding because they know they are witnessing a great show. And who cares if the notes recorded here did not change the history of Miles Davis nor that of jazz (that is the prerogative of a few notes from a little music). That's why reviews, other people's judgments, and critics' opinions shouldn't be taken for granted. Because even in the most obscure of recordings, there could be a hidden emotion, a great idea, an overlooked masterpiece. In the end, that's how it is for that weekend in San Francisco.