Miles Davis
You're Under Arrest

I don't think you need to have studied music in a collegiate manner to appreciate this Miles Davis. Many can't accept it, resorting to ways of calling him names ranging from traitor to beggar. I've even heard this from people I considered intelligent who, nevertheless, play like gods. This Miles Davis doesn't need defenses; those who speak poorly of him disqualify themselves, in a range that also goes from presumptuous to deceased. Amen.

Why this album from his '80s? Because I often find myself listening to it, I find it one of the most digestible, even for those who don't love instrumental albums, and less structured. I find it interesting because it contains the fluorescent force of a decade within the metallic and roaring conduits of this electric language that loves the spotlight. When his trumpet vibrates, as it always does, right away you know it's him, mutant, arranged for the umpteenth time on sounds you don't expect, and presented with improbable photographs that portray him in a somewhat laughable and grotesque manner. But what can you do. The '80s were like that, and Miles Davis loved to play the role of the taciturn star, sullen and menacing in appearance. However, I believe he used shoulder pads mainly to hide his fragile artistic sensitivity. Besides, he didn't need to do things for fashion when he was the one setting the trends. What strikes me, though, is the fact that he always put his face on it, with his eyes violently interrupting the black of his skin. A contrast that makes you think of many other things. Of his image as an artist who can bring together opposites, as well as the musical wonders produced by man.

The album cannot be classified among his masterpieces, quite the opposite. Despite the presence of John Scofield on guitar, in a period of rich jazz-fusion interaction, You're Under Arrest seems to be a light work, approached with irony, and recorded rather quickly. The sound mixture is at times clumsy and excessively American, almost ideal for a convertible tour of Las Vegas streets, so dominant are the synths. However, it strikes for its varied compositions that playfully tackle well-known pop themes, of immense global success, like the two covers "Human Nature", which sound good on record but live (I'm thinking of Paris) reflect all of Davis's concentration which isn't seen here, and "Time After Time", less participative and certainly not decisive for the fate of this album. Both tracks, however, are tackled on velvet and with sweetness, as if they were born from the trumpeter himself. These are the most eye-catching pieces of the album, which otherwise proceeds in a paved gallery of polysynthetic effects where the mainstream popular visions of African American music of the time find space. I'm thinking of the plucked basses, the hard yet fluid guitar, and Davis's trumpet, as well as the percussion, with clear connections ranging from Jackson (not just for the cover, which maybe here less represents what I mean) to Prince (the youngest and most carefree, here lightened by the master and the seriousness of the professionals who accompanied him in the studio) to the Weather Report (who fit perfectly, regarding the discourse on opposites mentioned before).

You're Under Arrest, among Davis's '80s albums, seems to me the least successful and the one with softer and broader views. A way to be admired by an even more heterogeneous audience, far removed from the more complex and magnificently successful Decoy, which, in my way of listening, turns out to be the ultimate of those times (with the great advantage of the incredible percussion shaken by Mino Cinelu). Don't expect great music, in short, but only background pieces if you intend to relax in an evening between cigarettes and Biancosarti, with the cryptic and veiled light of the lamp.