Miles Davis-Gil Evans: My Ship
Miles Davis Orchestra under the direction of Gil Evans
Miles Ahead (Miles Davis + 19) (Sony Columbia/Legacy CK 40784)
Bernie Glow, Ernie Royal, Louis Mucci, Taft Jordan, Johnny Carisi (trumpets); Frank Rehak, Jimmy Cleveland, Joe Bennett (trombones); Willie Ruff, Tony Miranda (french horns); Bill Barber (tuba); Lee Konitz (alto saxophone); Danny Bank (b-clarinet); Romeo Penque, Sid Cooper (clarinet, flute); Paul Chambers (bass); Art Taylor (drums).
Composed by Kurt Weill.
Recorded: New York, May 10, 1957
Rating: 100/100 (learn more)
This cut is beauty personified. There's nothing seemingly complex or unusual, but even the simple half-note pads that sustain the harmony behind Miles have Gil's telltale linearity and instrumental color. It's also probably one of his best-known arrangements.
Starting with the intro, you'll hear three layers. There's the top pattern in the cup-mute trumpets that descends. On the very bottom there's the static repetitive bass figure that's also in the tuba. And then, the third layer works in contrary motion to the top line. If you read Miles Davis' autobiography, you'll probably remember him marveling at Gil's use of contrary motion. What it means, in this instance, is that while the muted trumpets have a figure that slowly descends, you'll hear a bass clarinet slowly rising, as if coming out of a mist. When it reaches a rather high range, it drops to a little figure then that sets us up for the tune, which is stated by the low brass. This statement is partly characterized by the warm French horns placed quite high on the melody, the bass clarinet with a lovely line on the bottom, and the sweep of all the ensemble parts in motion with the melody. The ensemble here is voiced in harmony that gives beautiful lines to each player. The passage is lush with a darkly hued color to it.
I remember one day while working with Gil in about 1986, I walked in the door and found him at the piano, totally frustrated as he was trying to figure out what he wrote on this piece. He threw up his hands and said, "I don't know what I wrote!" I was baffled and asked why on earth he'd need to transcribe his own music. That's when he told me how one day he just got tired of his music and threw it out. Ouch! I was dying inside when I heard that. It also got me thinking about how it could be possible that such perfect music could ever, from his perspective, be worth trashing. I also got to witness how, given the distance of years, he seemed to again appreciate its beauty. Thankfully much of Gil's music was found, albeit long after he passed away.
I think one of the stunning moments of this cut is when Miles enters. The chords just feel like they glide, and their brightness, created by the slightly pinched sound of mutes, makes Miles' flugel a beautiful open and dark foil. That's a moment I could loop a thousand times. The double-time feel passage from 2:27–2:45 is voiced in a way that allows it to move fleetly. That's another wonderful ability Gil has. This piece ends how it begins, except this time the rising line of the bass clarinet is now absent, and that makes sense because we're winding down. This piece immediately segues into “Miles Ahead,” another piece loaded with linearity, contrary motion, parallel motion and a light sound, despite a sometimes thick ensemble playing.
Reviewer: Maria Schneider