Miles Davis - A Tribute to Jack Johnson (Columbia Recods, 1971)
One of those albums where every second is great.
I first heard this in my late teens, and came to it as a rock listener, not a jazz listener (which perhaps alters my perspective of the album, but doesn't diminish its brilliance)
You don't need any context to get right into it from the very beginning, but here's some context for the uninitiated:
Davis was 45 when this album was released, and at the apex of his commercial career. Long acknowledged as one of the most brilliant jazzmen in history (Coltrane, Parker, Ellington, and Armstrong were his only real competition), Davis was growing restless as the late 60's approached. He resented most rock music (in his autobiography, he offered props to only two rock musicians: Jimi Hendrix and Jerry Garcia, In contrast, he, aptly, referred to Steve Miller as a 'non-playing motherfucker' and the insult was in the 'non-playing' part), but he was seduced by the sound of electric instruments and was aware that the best selling jazz albums barely sold a tenth of what very mediocre rock albums sold.
He was absolutely convinced that he could make a great "rock" album, and in fact he ultimately made two great ones, the double-LP
Bitches Brew (1969; it instantly became the biggest selling jazz album in history) and this, which was the soundtrack for a short film on the life of controversial black boxer Jack Johnson. Prior to these albums, he had been inching his way toward rock music, introducing an electric bass on his brilliant
Miles in the Sky (1966) and giving it a very prominent role on his funky, borderline-fusion
In a Silent Way (1968 )
Naturally, these rock-leaning moves were seen as selling out by egghead jazz traditionalists, who see Davis as a lost cause. Nascent rock critics were flattered that such a renowned name had made albums that their jazz-ignorant minds could wrap around.
Bitches Brew was the culmination of this phase; it literally could be called a rock album or a jazz album. It singlehandedly invents what was called "Fusion" in the 70's, a genre of garbage that never approached its inspiration. It was controversial, and frowned upon in many quarters, but generally was met with accolades. At this time, Davis was frequently sharing the bill with Grateful Dead, Santana, and other rock bands at the Fillmore East and West.
Jack Johnson however, for my money, beats
Bitches Brew hands down. It is even more rock than
Bitches Brew was, but it is still undeniably jazz; no limp, wet-noodle fusion here.
Need convincing? Okay, start playing the linked song, the well-titled "Right Off", and see if you aren't won over in the first few beats. That's Billy Cobham on drums, providing an almost metal-ish swing, John McLaughlin slashing through with guitar, and Micheal Henderson gallumphing along on bass. Miles makes the perfect entrance, with a single blat on his trumpet to punctuate the whole extended intro. From there, he is all boxer, bobbing and weaving, ducking and jabbing, taunting and cajoling, laughing despite some blue, and then launches into long, technically complex arpeggios to deliver some knockout punches. This is what fusion should have sounded like, but the fusion that followed (including McLaughlin's) took the wrong lessons away.
The flipside, "Yesternow", was rather succinctly but correctly described by Robert Christgau as "mood music for a vacation on the moon", but that sells it short. Insofar as it is mood music, credit Herbie Hancock's atmospheric keyboards. However, as mood music, it is too edgy; the swagger of "Right Off" is replaced with a pensive, paranoid, lonely sound that demands attention even when you try to let it settle in the background. It ends on an aggressive and defiant note (with Henderson possibly cribbing a fragment of the bassline of "Dark Star" as a motif)
This came out at the height of the Black Power movement, of which Johnson has always been a sort of totem. In a way, it is the most explicitly black album Davis had made up to this point; his next would be the first real critical stumble of his career, the funk-riff heavy
On the Corner (1972). That is a great album too, in retrospect. Sly Stone would have dreamed of rhythms like what is on
On the Corner. But the critics got off the bus with that release in fairly nasty fashion, ending Davis' rock flirtation period and Black Power period. He went into self-imposed (and drug-induced) exile for the rest of the decade.
Jack Johnson? A fucking brilliant album with every note worth hearing.