Miles Davis
The Man with the Horn

I completely understand why many enthusiasts of Miles Davis's classic records can't appreciate his albums from the '80s. However, not being a purist, I must admit that I find Davis's work from the '70s and '80s extremely fascinating, while his productions from the '50s—albums like Kind of Blue or Porgy & Bess—are, to me, said with immense respect, don't insult me, somewhat less engaging at times. Of course, this is not a judgment on the masterpieces mentioned earlier, but a (let's call it) personal inclination.

That said, in my opinion, The Man with the Horn is a magnificent record.

The album marks the return of Miles Davis after a long recording silence and clearly reveals his interest in contemporary musical tastes of the time: soul, pop, and funk that animated the New York scene of the early '80s. The album is the result of a successful balance between that modern sensibility and an extremely polished, almost luxurious production typical of those years. All this is supported by top-level musicians, like Marcus Miller and Al Foster, who contribute precision and groove to a compact and engaging sound. The sonic dialogue between Davis's trumpet and the guitars of Mike Stern and Barry Finnerty is vibrant and rich with emotional tension, backed by a rhythm section that works with precision and depth. The clean and crystalline production, typical of the '80s, does not flatten the sound, as unfortunately often happens; on the contrary, it enhances every nuance, every detail, giving the record a clarity and brightness that makes it extraordinarily enjoyable even today.

Tracks like “Fat Time” and “Shout” are immediate, funky, and full of energy, with catchy riffs and a lively dynamic that captures you from the first listen. The title track, “The Man with the Horn”, is a vocal ballad interpreted by Randy Hall, reminiscent of certain episodes of Al Jarreau for its elegance and atmosphere, surprisingly successful even for those more attached to instrumental Miles. The track “Ursula” brings us back to a more intimate and relaxed dimension, where Miles showcases all his art in creating melancholic soundscapes full of emotional nuances, with a trumpet that sighs more than it speaks. Meanwhile, with “Back Seat Betty” and “Aida”, Davis shows he has lost none of his ability to interact with the group, to turn on and off with fluidity, to traverse sound registers as if they were gears in a still perfectly oiled machine.

As always, Miles succeeds in an endeavor that made him unique throughout his career: playing up to the times, but with his gaze already beyond. It is not a mere stylistic adaptation but a process of creative assimilation, where every element becomes new material for his personal sonic exploration.

Ultimately, The Man with the Horn is an album that, while not having the revolutionary force of his milestones, testifies to an inspired and courageous return, capable of blending tradition, present, and vision. It is a record that deserves a careful listening, without prejudice: it is not the past returning, but a Miles who returns to looking ahead.

It is a work that shows a musically different Davis from the past, yet in line with that red thread that has always characterized his career: it is an artist who continues to seek, experiment, contaminate, heedless of expectations. An album that deserves to be listened to again with ears free from nostalgia and prejudice.