Full Albums features covers of every track off a classic album. Got an idea for a future pick? Leave a note in the comments!
Columbia Records invented the long playing record in the late ’40s. By the late ’50s, they had turned the LP into the dominant musical artifact of the period. That meant that their Pop department had a busy 1959 planned. Johnny Mathis would release an album that year, and they were preparing for a new Tony Bennett release, along with a compilation LP featuring Mathis, Bennett, Doris Day and Frankie Laine.
The same team was also preparing for some jazz releases. In 1959, jazz was Popular music. Rock and roll had provided some energy, but had not yet evolved in musical sophistication to become the dominant form, and was still shunned as 45-RPM music for teenagers by many who bought LPs. Tamla Motown was evolving its brand of R&B, but it was not the full package of music and presentation that would lead to chart dominance later on. Being part of the Pop department meant that jazz records were plugged for radio play, were merchandised in record stores, and appeared in as many jukeboxes across big cities as the marketers could achieve. Dave Brubeck released an album featuring Take Five that year, and that would be a record of the year in many places.
Miles Davis never gave up on the idea of being a popular artist. He cut his teeth in dance bands that filled halls and floors. In 1948 his Birth of the Cool helped spawn a whole new realm of popular jazz. He would go on to cut fusion albums in the late ’60s, and rock-infused records in the ’70s. His version of “Human Nature” from late in his career is even more wistful than usual, as he considers what Michael Jackson’s talent had given him, compared with what felt he had. He enjoyed the accoutrements of fame, driving his sports car around New York City whilst attired in immaculately tailored suits, Broadway star at his side. He enjoyed playing in front of large, adoring audiences in Europe on Festival tours. If Sly Stone could be musically sophisticated and adventurous, and sell millions of records, what was stopping the marketing department at Columbia from getting him a number one record on the pop charts? If The Temptations could be at the cutting edge, or if James Brown could bring the house down with the JBs at his side, or if Jimi Hendrix could revolutionize rock — well, what was to keep Davis from being thought of in the same way?
But Columbia Records and Davis had a relatively good relationship at this end of the ’50s. At their insistence, Davis had developed a consistent lineup for his band (you would hesitate to say “stable” for a lineup that contained several people who struggled, along with their leader, with substance abuse, and most of whom died young), which became his First Great Quintet/Sextet. The band was popular and had worked together in various forms for several years. His early releases on the label had got him the sports car and fancy apartment.
Whilst Davis wanted to be popular, he also had a vital musical sensibility, which he would not compromise on. The music had to be new, and fit with Davis’s current ideas of freshness and relevance. In 1959 he, along with pianist Bill Evans, were fascinated with Modal ideas. The standard Western Classical pattern of tones and semitones to choose which seven notes from the possible twelve semitone steps is one way to slice the pie, but there are others. Folk traditions have other scales, and 20th-century composers such as Erik Satie and Belá Bartók were translating those folk traditions into vital new music. Debussy was incorporating other scales into his music. Davis and Evans would have been aware of all of that music. Within jazz it was felt that, with fewer chords but also fewer restrictions on the form, so the improvised solo, the most important part of jazz, could be freed from the number of bars generally acknowledged in a blues tune. There was more musical space, including for space between the notes, which some classical and jazz artists view as a vital part of the art.
The band that assembled for two recording dates in the spring of 1959 was ready, and knew each other. Bill Evans had largely left the band, but was brought back for this session due to his modal sensibilities. This might have irked Wynton Kelly, but they both appeared on the record, with Kelly playing the blues-infused “Freddie Freeloader.” Tenor saxophone genius John Coltrane was there, and alto Julian “Cannonball” Adderley was the augmentation from Quintet to Sextet. The peerless rhythm section of Paul Chambers and Jimmy Cobb rounded out the lineup. Although the band was very familiar with each other, Davis’s habit for band dates (in contrast to his work with larger orchestras and Gil Evans) was to use relatively new tunes, or even sketches of tunes, to get the activities rolling. Although Davis took all the writing credits (and royalties), some of these sketches and ideas, particularly the modal ones, came from Bill Evans. In most cases, the first complete take was used. What we ultimately hear is brand new, fresh, vital.
In the end, they produced the most popular jazz album of all time, with over five million sales. During the current vinyl revival it seems that most turntable purchases are quickly followed by a visit to the store to get a copy of Kind of Blue. It denotes a certain level of sophistication to a certain group of people. In movies, you can indicate a thoughtful person by having the sounds on in the background. Many babies have likely been born after their parents got in the mood with this sound (as long as one of them did not make the classic error of concentrating too hard on the music). For some fans, it was all downhill from there for jazz. They believe that jazz was not defeated by R&B, rock and roll or hip-hop; it defeated itself. Free jazz might be seen as actively alienating some listeners (whilst delighting others), but it denotes a different world from the sophistication and elegance of Davis’s classic, and would denote a different type of amorous activities to modal jazz.
Kind of Blue is, of course, popular within jazz circles, but perhaps its greatest legacy is in other forms of music. Musicians of all sorts, growing up in the ’60s, would know the album. They would go on to form bands, as diverse as Steely Dan, The Allman Brothers and Talk Talk, and could incorporate the musical ideas from the record (and sometimes Davis’s ways of leading a band) into their music. There are hundreds of covers of each of the tracks, so we have chosen some that mark jazz, pop and other musical traditions!
Chris del Camino – So What (Miles Davis cover)
The deceptive simplicity of Kind of Blue forms its ultimate appeal. So simple that you make a chiptune version of it, one that works on all levels. That does not underestimate how difficult it would be to produce using primitive “instruments,” but there is such beauty here. The story behind Andy Baio’s Kind of Bloop is a fascinating one, and, strangely, the cover art became a cause célèbre in itself. It is art, and it speaks of art, and the struggle of artists.
Jon Hendricks and Friends – Freddie Freeloader (Miles Davis cover)
If “Freddie Freeloader” sounds like a harsh assessment of a person, you might have to take into account that, if some of the stories are to be believed, that the person to whom it relates had business cards with that printed on them. It’s a story that deserves to be illuminated, and Jon Hendricks use vocalese to follow the music but also illustrate and scat some background elements to the possible lore of the track.
Gary Burton and Stephane Grappelli – All Blues (Miles Davis cover)
Miles Davis had his own musical and sonic palette, and it did not seem to include the vibraphone. He never included it in any of his classic lineups, and did not record with any artists who played it after around 1954. He also, it would appear, had a personal animus towards Gary Burton, one of the great exponents of the instruments. Of course, we will never know what Davis’s antipathy to the instrument denied us. Burton did not let Davis’s lack of appreciation deny his own love of the music. Subsequently, when he became a leading jazz educator, there was no way he could ignore Miles and his legacy. Miles also did not use the violin which is, to be fair, a more niche jazz taste. So, overall, he is unlikely to have loved this version of Blue in Green, which is a shame. Burton, then an up and coming jazz artist, working with Stephane Grappelli, whose “Hot Jazz” with Django Reinhardt enlivened the jazz age in Paris.
Louis Banks, Gary Bartz, Ron Carter, Ravi Chary, Jimmy Cobb, Rudresh Mahanthappa & Vikku Vinayakram – All Blues (Miles Davis cover)
Modal music might have been an innovation in the West, but it has been at the heart of Indian classical music for centuries. To this day, on the street or in a nice hotel lobby (if you are lucky), hear a flautist improvising using unfamiliar (but appealing) scales over a shruti box (or a phone version of the same!) drone. It was not just the Beatles that embraced Indian themes; some jazz artists ran with it also. Former Miles sideman John McLaughlin had a jazz fusion band with his friend Zakir Hussain for 50 years, but also collaborated with Hussain on a more Indian Classical project, for one of the great albums from the legendary ECM Jazz Label. There is a natural affinity between the forms. So it was fantastic that the Miles From India project was assembled, with Western Jazz and Indian Classical musicians jamming together. It is extra special that one of these artists was Jimmy Cobb, the cleanest living (and hence longest lived) member of the classic sextet. From the sitar lead in by Ravy Chary to the saxophone solos, this is a glorious celebration.
Jessica Williams – Flamenco Sketches (Miles Davis cover)
These days, even the official Miles Davis website acknowledges that the composition of “Flamenco Sketches” was a joint affair between Davis and Bill Evans. Flamenco music uses different scales than Western Classical tradition, and was perfectly suited to modal jazz. Davis was fascinated by Spanish music, initially encouraged by his wife Francis Taylor Davis, and his classic Sketches of Spain album with Gil Evans came out in 1960. This piano version keeps the Spanish, Evans and Miles messages together beautifully.
Allman Brothers Band – In Memory of Elizabeth Reed
There is a class of jazz fan that does not like Kind Of Blue because it is popular. Others have more legitimate concerns and reservations. But there are other artists who capture that even the most popular jazz album of all time is still not one of the most popular records of all time, despite its ubiquity in some places. The Allman Brothers Band took “All Blues” and crafted a more familiar rock and roll sound, illustrating a very rock and roll story. The drumming explicitly calls out Jimmy Cobb’s work.
That was both an interesting read and listen. Thank you.
In the original liner notes, Bill Evans wrote eloquently about how the spontaneity captured on the album was inspired by a Japanese visual art form. What he wrote is easily found online and it is very much worth a read.
I know it’s from the aforementioned Sketches of Spain, not Kind of Blue, but it’s not only a Miles cover, or perhaps cover of a Miles cover, it may well be my favorite piece of music ever recorded; nearly 20 sublime minutes of bliss:
https://youtu.be/1DBissQmnZs?si=EzJHhOwAawN1N10_
This is such a great piece of work, thank you for reminding me of it.
Thinking of jazz as a source for covers is an expansive exercise for me. If pressed, I’d say Elvis’ first 45, That’s All Right and Blue Moon of Kentucky, was the birth of covers, though I know that’s an arbitrary line to draw and a reasonable person could readily argue otherwise, what with the long traditions in folk and the blues. Then the advent of singer songwriters in the 60s and 70s, in which songs became closely associated with the artist who wrote and recorded them, really accelerated the concept of doing a “cover”. Because I associate that era in rock and roll with covers, I also long ago conciously excluded jazz standards with vocals, the so-called American Songbook, from my conception of what a cover is. Another arbitrary decision. But I’d never even considered ensuing iterations of instrumental jazz compositions as covers. Interesting.
I think that Miles’ Albums are reasonable for this approach.
In some cases, the songs, did not exist before they came into existence in the studio, so you have a canonical version to riff from. This goes for the band also. “So What” quickly speeded-up after release.
For some of the later, electric work, the version put out never even existed in the studio, and came into existence in the editing suite. So, once again, you can go back to an “original”.
However, with more traditional jazz or folk, you are in the position of constantly evolving or adapting, so a “cover” has less meaning.
I’m partial to the Julie Driscoll/Brian Auger version of “All Blues”: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jmKH15Re6UQ