Coltrane, Miles, Wayne, and that Modern Sound - Part 1 - Miles

The enduring legacy of John Coltrane, Miles Davis, and Wayne Shorter is undisputed in the jazz world. Each contributed greatly to the revolution in jazz in the 1960's, forming, defining, and expanding what is widely regarded as the height of jazz music. In a 3-part series of blog posts to follow, I will explore each in turn.

Miles Davis headed the best jazz band of all time, the Second Miles Davis Quintet (henceforth SMDQ). His second "great quintet" (hence the name) came about in 1963, three years after the dissolution of his first great quintet and epitomized the new, "modern" sound of jazz in the 60's. A primary aspect of this change, and the music of the SMDQ, is in the sound itself. The tone and timbre of the instruments, and their function therefore, changed and became more dynamic in the 60's. 

Herbie Hancock

This is especially apparent in the playing of pianist Herbie Hancock. Typically in jazz, when it's your turn to solo, you play melodious lines that are, functionally, leading melodic elements of the music. You are accompanied by rhythmic and harmonic elements, creating a full sound. Herbie certainly plays many functionally melodic lines; however, he includes a considerable amount of textural, transitional music that doesn't function in a directly melodic way. Footprints is a good example, check out his solo near the end.

Tony Williams

Though it was Miles' band, 17-year-old drummer Tony Williams is often credited (by Miles Davis himself, even) as being the heart and soul of the music. His playing is subtle to the highest degree, as he possesses both a fine sense of artistry and an unrelenting technical prowess. His music with the SMDQ embodies another aspect of the the modern sound of the sixties, this one relating to the purpose of the music.

Drumming is essential in jazz for many reasons, though its primary function is (was?) groove-ological. The drums keep tempo and keep the time feeling good. Tony did more than this. Tony's intensity and vivacity (which you can check out in the Footprints link above) was more than a backbeat playing groove-master (though he was that). In other words, he made art, every time he sat down behind the kit. Sure, it feels good to listen to him play, but it feels something more than that too. It's hard to put a finger on it. It's also hard to answer "why?" about it. Why, Tony? For whom? To what end? And it is comforting to come to the conclusion that the music he made was for the music itself. It feels good, no doubt, to make the music. But the music is not for feeling good. It's for the music.