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Miles
Davis, The Cellar Door Sessions 1970
(Columbia/Legacy Jazz)
By Greg Masters
 For
devotees of Miles Davis's so-called "electric period," the full
release of the music recorded live in December 1970 at the Washington, DC
club The Cellar Door has long been something of a holy grail. A healthy
sampling was released in 1971 on Live-Evil providing evidence that
more of this sound existed. The possibility that more of this sound was in
the vault gave hope to at least many of the baby boomers I keep in touch
with. With the release [November 2005] of the 6-CD box set The Cellar
Door Sessions 1970, all the anticipation is rewarded beyond measure.
Miles' music has continued to evolve even from the heights of the three
extraordinary studio LPs he recorded in the previous 18 months: In a
Silent Way (rec. February 1969), Bitches Brew (rec. August
1969) and A Tribute to Jack Johnson (rec. April 1970). Besides being
a live date, the ensemble here was made up of a different cast of characters.
Those earlier "electric" albums are masterpieces partly because the
musicians were pushed to the extremes of their creative artistry, they were
of a caliber that could provide surprises, and because Teo Macero took the
session tapes and chiseled into form the hours of jamming and spirited
improvising.
Here, on the live dates, the musicians fill hour-long sets by stretching out
some of the material previously worked out in the studio. Teo is at the
controls again, manning the recorder at the club, but this time without his
post-session work of crafting the material into a collaged suite. This is a
strictly live recording, excellent sound quality, with only insubstantial
edits here and there.
Miles is forging something extraordinary here. Without concession to audience
expectation, he'd been using club dates to grow his sound. Never one to
repeat himself, his concept by this time clearly was not to present tunes.
While the repertory across the six CDs consists of eight composition-10 sets
were recorded over four nights and six complete sets are presented here-each
piece is a springboard from which to invent, unfettered by the restraints of
chord changes or the need to serve a melody. Miles is leading the ensemble
into free territory. There's no room for show biz slickness or pandering for
dramatic effect. Miles is a patient listener and steps back to allow the other
soloists to ignore 12-bar convention and reach full articulation. This is
artistry of the highest order, creative expression at its most sophisticated.
The one-hour sets appropriate elements from funk and rock, but this is an
entirely new uncategorizable beast-an amalgam of funk, rock and traditional
jazz. The music is unlike anything. Comparisons are futile. It's even a
stretch to say the music is an extension of what Miles himself had been
creating in the studio. It's essentially a small group format, but is as far
from conforming to a traditional jazz audience's expectations as the
listening experience at the Fillmore East is from that at the Village
Vanguard.
Occasionally, a head statement will be played in unison by Miles and saxist
Gary Bartz, with the rest of the band falling into position, but that phrase
is merely a concession to the audience's need for something familiar to
tether their experience to. The rest of what's played is unrelenting in its
presentation of a sound so new we experience it as it's being created.
Keith Jarrett's playing on Fender Rhodes is perhaps the greatest prize from
the set. The timbre of the electronic keyboard might grate some listeners
after a while, but his explorations transcend the funk/rock indications defined
by Jack DeJohnette's solid 4/4 time-keeping and electric bassist Michael
Henderson's precise vamps. Jarrett's keyboard utterances push into territory
too colorful to be constrained by pulse. When the other musicians drop out to
allow his cadenzas to go where they may, particularly during four
"Improvisations," Jarrett takes advantage, maximizing the
electronics to novelty effect, but more importantly, using the full range of
the keyboards (he's also playing a Fender electric organ at times). His
improvisations have more complicated intentions than the prescribed
boundaries of the tunes' formal structure. When freed from the rigor of the
funk/rock requirements, there's a chance for the expression of more complex
emotions and an exploration instead of a proclamation.
Gary Bartz was a logical choice for the sax spot. He was already empathetic
with the stripped down funk direction. He'd held sax chairs with Art Blakey,
Charles Mingus, McCoy Tyner and Max Roach through the 60s, but in 1969 formed
the NTU Troop in which he brought a funk groove to prominence. On this date,
his melodious, refined and well-shaped runs up and down the horn unfurl into
elegant Baroque-like solos and tender the oftentimes raucous activity
swirling around him.
Although Miles is hitting high notes throughout the four-day gig, his playing
is not as refined and virtuosic as it was on the prior year's studio
sessions, or as commanding as on the live sets at the Fillmore East and
Fillmore West from earlier in 1970. Rather than proclaiming his statements
with rolling, melodious passages that ride the churning ensemble as in those
earlier dates, here his trumpet sound stabs to emphasize the rhythmic focus.
 Miles
doesn't play notes to display his virtuosity or even to define a melody. He
uses the notes to communicate intimate feelings ranging from longing to his
assertive strut. His soloing through the wah-wah pedal conjures intangibles
into form, evokes hints and variations of the head, and steers the ensemble
to the briefest of unison passages. When Miles switches from playing through
the wah-wah pedal to begin a new phase of a solo on open horn, it's a
dramatic sensation like a change of key.
Miles allows it to happen and the musicians are up to the challenge. These
guys are as attuned to each other as a flock of birds in flight.
Michael Henderson holds the whole package together. His touch is certain yet
warm and rounded. His sense of timing is impeccable. His notes define the
pulse of eternity. His electric bass playing not only gives structure, but at
times contributes a playful attitude to the proceedings.
Personally, I was disappointed that John McLaughlin wasn't more of a presence
in this package (he's only on discs 5 and 6). But that's not to diminish his
participation here. His searing solos, even as he searches for a way into the
ensemble sound, add an element of fearful grace. It's the sound of lightning
brought indoors.
Airto Moreira's palette of percussive effects (including vocalizing),
integrate rain forest influences and colors with decorative aural
embellishments.
The reason the set is not simply a funk session is owing to the drumming of
Jack DeJohnette. While he serves the time-keeping function of laying down a
groove, his sensible propulsion continuously urges the band forward with
rolls, cymbal work and a bass drum foot that releases a surge of adrenalin
with each pounce. His tasteful, energetic yet precise accompaniment sets a
high standard that compels the other musicians to match his intensity and
service.
In addition to the nearly six hours of music, over three hours of which has
never been issued officially, the box contains photos and essays by each of
the band members, all expressing enthusiasm for the gig and grateful that the
music is finally getting a chance to be heard.
Every moment on these discs is killer. This band is at its peak and the
intensity never wavers. This music is clearly not for everyone, but I envy
the uninitiated listener with an open ear for whom these sets are a first
exposure to Miles' electric music. Five stars.
[sidebar]
The Red
Light is Off:
A Chat With Michael Henderson, 7/16/05
"It never stopped," says Michael Henderson,
electric bassist, referring to his career after five years with Miles Davis
from 1970-75. "I've played with just about everybody on the planet-Snoop
Dog, LL Cool J, Carl Thomas, Mobb Deep. I've been having a great time."
This is a man who has nearly 50 platinum records. Miles Davis plucked him out
of Stevie Wonder's band when he was 19. But, he says, he was already "a
hardened criminal of music at 13." He'd played in Detroit with the
Motown session musicians who'd later come to be called the Funk Brothers. He
was with Stevie Wonder for five years (including an appearance on Ed Sullivan
in 1967). And at the same time backed Aretha Franklin. There were also dates
with The Four Tops, Marvin Gaye, The Temptations, James Jameson (they
recorded together on Marvin Gaye's "You're the Man" from 1972),
Earl Van Dyke (called the father of the Motown rhythm section) and others.
After he left Miles, he had a hit in 1975 with "Valentine Love,"
his song for drummer Normon Connors on which he sings a duet with Jean Carne.
In 1976, the gold album You Are My Starship under Connors'
leadership had a number of hits including, "We Both Need Each
Other," a duet with Henderson and Phyllis Hyman, and the title cut
featuring Henderson. Henderson also recorded and did arrangements for The
Dramatics and Jagged Edge among others.
He sounds a bit peeved when referring to press at the time Miles recruited
him which referred to him as a 19-year-old session player. "How serious
is Stevie Wonder?" he posits. "Stevie is as serious as Miles, maybe
even more. People say that Michael Henderson was the devil that changed Miles
Davis's music, but they didn't know I came from greatness in Detroit. I came
up with people who worked with Paul Chambers. Look at the musicians. How
serious is Motown?"
When I tell him how blown away I am by the music on The Cellar Door Sessions
1970, which chronicles a four-day engagement with Miles Davis at a
Washington, DC club, he says that wasn't even the greatest moment for the
band. "Any date before that would blow your hair out." He singles
out a date at Paul's Mall in Boston, circulated on a bootleg recording.
Speaking of the Cellar Door gig, he says it was a little-bitty club. "We
just played unabashed, no hiding anything. We went for it. It's hard, brash,
outgoing, ferocious. We knew we were doing something great."
It was raining the first few nights of the gig, he remembers, and the club
was not full. But, he says, those who were there enjoyed what they were
witnessing. Miles, he adds, paid the band out of his pocket.
Nobody played that kind of music, he says. "In this modern age, at
sessions, guys stop being creative. If they play too much they want to get
paid for it. When the green light goes on, you play what you're required to
play."
"There was no green light for us," he says, "no red light.
Guys just don't do that anymore." He offers some advice for today's
musicians, at least for those with creative ambition: "A lot of guys
need to forget about the red light, forget about getting paid."
Henderson reveals one more moment from his time with Miles: "When the
album [A Tribute to] Jack Johnson was about to come out, I told
Miles, 'They don't put our names on the albums in Detroit.' I demanded they
put our names on the record 'What You See Is What You Get' from The
Dramatics. The other musicians were afraid that Berry Gordy wouldn't like the
fact that they were moonlighting. But I was a bad ass. I told Miles and Miles
called Teo and told him to put the names on the cover." First versions
of the LP include personnel credits on the front. "I raised hell. I'm a
fighter. That's why Miles hired me."
He states that he's been in the studio lately with two battery mates from
Miles's mid-70s band-electric guitarists Reggie Lucas and Pete Cosey. He's
also touring a band called Bass Players' Ball with Ray Parker Jr. on guitar
(another teenage sensation on sessions for Holland-Dozier-Holland before
playing on Stevie Wonder's Talking Book and Innervisions
albums, and later under his own name, Ghostbusters) and George
Johnson of the Brothers Johnson on bass.
"These are not just session guys," he says. "These are session
guys with million selling records."
He adds that he's recorded a lot of music that is still in the vault,
including his tune, "You Are My Starship," recorded with Keith
Jarrett, Al Foster, Mtume and Reggie Lucas, and "Treat Me Like a
Man," which he wrote for The Dramatics, with Jarrett and Al Foster.
And, my Miles fanatic friends on the Web will salivate over this tidbit: He
says he has a black and white video shot live at a gig in Philadelphia in
1970 that documents the Miles band which a few months later played The Cellar
Door. "That band was more incredible each night," he says.
This review originally appeared on allaboutjazz.com.
Photos courtesy of Sony/BMG/Legacy
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