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Rating:
Some kind soul babbled that by now I could even criticize "Kind of Blue" by the divine Miles Davis. And when 2 or 3 of these idiots see the link to this review, they will rush over with their drooling mouths, gnawing on the way I trash their little idols (but don't they have anything better to do than read me if I'm so awful?).
Poor morons: according to some 90s toxic leftover, records like 'Ok Computer' or 'Mellon Collie' are worth as much as "Kind of Blue" … blessed ignorance. Let's leave these miseries behind and get to the great Miles.
This is not his masterpiece ("Bitches Brew" is certainly superior, and probably also "In a Silent Way"), but it is notoriously the most famous album in jazz history. The reason why is easily said, damn it! A band of fucking stars, starting with Coltrane on tenor sax and ending with Jimmy Cobb on drums, superbly supports Miles's legendary trumpet. The result? 5 frighteningly beautiful compositions, primarily played on modal improvisation openings, and that drip sensuality in every note.
"Blue in Green" starts with grandeur, a ballad wrapped in a sanguine lyricism with the pale Bill Evans delivering pianistic orgasms from delirium. "Flamenco Sketches", incredibly complex in its circularity. It's like being alone on a rainy night, and one of Miles's greatest solos comes to keep you alive. "So What" is the opening track, featuring THAT Paul Chambers bass line and playing on a very polished atmosphere (particularly thanks to Cobb's drumming, very modal jazz) and stands out for the iiiiiiincredible cohesion of all the brilliant fops called to play (kept in check by Miles Von Karajan).
Also amazing is "All Blues", revolutionary with its elegant odd time signature. Finally, "Freddie Freeloader", certainly the most famous of the batch, with a very bluesy piano passage (it's Wynton Kelly playing though) that paves the way for Coltrane and Davis solos, prammatically dichotomous: precious and refined synthesis from Miles, torrential from John. In short, everything in its right place, quoting your beloved Thom Yorke: that damned, immutable trumpet brand, the peculiar voicings arrangement in the piano accompaniment, the rhythm that has remained a milestone for all jazz albums to come.
Do I really have to say it’s the greatest album for having sex ever conceived on planet Earth?
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