Listen To This - MILES DAVIS & BITCHES BREW
by Victor Svorinich
University Press of Mississippi 226 pages
If you can’t tell your Sly Stone from your Sharon Stone or James Brown from Gordon Brown this is not the book for you. It is more rock funk orientated than the usual jazz books. Victor Svorinich is an evangelist for ‘Bitches Brew’. He is angered, as if it was last week, by the poor reception the album received from many critics and aficionados. However, it was not rejected by the public: Bitches Brew was a phenomenon and sold more than half a million copies on its release in 1970: much more than usual for a Davis album.
Svorinich places the album in context. He points out that the preceding album ‘In A Silent Way’ recorded in 1969 was a precursor where, like ‘Bitches Brew’, the recording studio and editing was used to transform music. One section of music was used at the beginning of a piece and then copied and edited in at the end. ‘In A Silent Way’ lasts 4 minutes 12 seconds and then gives way to ‘It’s About That Time’ for 11 and a half minutes before ‘In A Silent Way’ returns in exactly the same take that had opened the record. Few people noticed at the time.
The main virtue of the book is the research. Svorinich seems to have had access to recordings and correspondence that few have had before. This helps to explore the relationship between Teo Macero and Davis. Macero worked with Davis from the late fifties until 1983. The relationship is key to understanding the Davis music. The many books published about Davis describe the association in various ways. Macero himself was sure that as producer and editor he had a decisive influence on the music that was produced. In George Cole’s book ‘Miles Ahead’ Macero is quoted as saying that what he did was similar to the way that George Martin worked with the Beatles.
Macero was vastly experienced, educated at Juilliard and friend of avant-garde compose Edgard Varese, he worked as producer with Mingus, Duke Ellington, Ella Fitzgerald, Thelonious Monk, Johnny Mathis, Count Basie, Dave Brubeck, Tony Bennett, Charlie Byrd, and Stan Getz. He also produced classical records. A onetime saxophonist and composer, Macero was more than a producer. His work on ‘Bitches Brew ‘well before the digital age created marvellous effects with razor blades and splices. Miles and Teo invented the concept of recording now and creating the final result later, rather like a film is created.
‘Bitches Brew’ was recorded in three, three hour sessions: nine hours of music. All recording was done on reel-to-reel, analog eight-track recorders. Columbia was one of the few record labels that had these recording capabilities, and both Davis and Macero used them well.
For most of his career Davis was content to let Macero edit the sessions. He would play the music in the studio and then allow Macero to work on the editing. Svorinich makes a convincing case that Davis, for once, with ‘Bitches Brew’ took an intense interest in the way that the music was edited. He has documentation to prove it and you can see some of that in the book where a formal letter from Davis to Macero gives detailed instructions on how one section should be treated.
Svorinich is keen to emphasise Davis’s role in the post production. He ignores contrary views such as David Liebman’s , who played with Davis in the early seventies. Liebman said recently, ‘To put it bluntly, in my opinion, if it wasn’t for Teo’s post-production work, we would not have the same opinion concerning the recorded work of Miles Davis during Teo’s years as producer. His contribution was monumental and overlooked. Teo was also a consummate arranger and composer on his own with a very free spirit, almost childlike in his enthusiasm and energy.’
‘During the seventies,’ Svorinich admits, ‘when Davis was constantly touring, delving into debauchery, and working in and out of health problems, Teo was pretty much left alone to his devices, which certainly could have stirred up some animosity toward the trumpeter.’
The descriptions of the sessions and the way that Davis chose and worked with the musicians is intriguing. Many of the players were not really sure what was happening. Bassist Dave Holland did not really recognise the music when he first heard it nor did Benny Maupin. They had both been involved in a new way of recording.
There is padding and the book would have benefited from sharp editing. The last section detailing some of the photographers who attempted to capture Davis is interesting but not really central to the theme of the book. Nevertheless, this is worth reading for its account of what is still considered to be one of the highlights of Miles Davis’s career and central to an understanding of his music.
by Victor Svorinich
University Press of Mississippi 226 pages
If you can’t tell your Sly Stone from your Sharon Stone or James Brown from Gordon Brown this is not the book for you. It is more rock funk orientated than the usual jazz books. Victor Svorinich is an evangelist for ‘Bitches Brew’. He is angered, as if it was last week, by the poor reception the album received from many critics and aficionados. However, it was not rejected by the public: Bitches Brew was a phenomenon and sold more than half a million copies on its release in 1970: much more than usual for a Davis album.
Svorinich places the album in context. He points out that the preceding album ‘In A Silent Way’ recorded in 1969 was a precursor where, like ‘Bitches Brew’, the recording studio and editing was used to transform music. One section of music was used at the beginning of a piece and then copied and edited in at the end. ‘In A Silent Way’ lasts 4 minutes 12 seconds and then gives way to ‘It’s About That Time’ for 11 and a half minutes before ‘In A Silent Way’ returns in exactly the same take that had opened the record. Few people noticed at the time.
The main virtue of the book is the research. Svorinich seems to have had access to recordings and correspondence that few have had before. This helps to explore the relationship between Teo Macero and Davis. Macero worked with Davis from the late fifties until 1983. The relationship is key to understanding the Davis music. The many books published about Davis describe the association in various ways. Macero himself was sure that as producer and editor he had a decisive influence on the music that was produced. In George Cole’s book ‘Miles Ahead’ Macero is quoted as saying that what he did was similar to the way that George Martin worked with the Beatles.
Macero was vastly experienced, educated at Juilliard and friend of avant-garde compose Edgard Varese, he worked as producer with Mingus, Duke Ellington, Ella Fitzgerald, Thelonious Monk, Johnny Mathis, Count Basie, Dave Brubeck, Tony Bennett, Charlie Byrd, and Stan Getz. He also produced classical records. A onetime saxophonist and composer, Macero was more than a producer. His work on ‘Bitches Brew ‘well before the digital age created marvellous effects with razor blades and splices. Miles and Teo invented the concept of recording now and creating the final result later, rather like a film is created.
‘Bitches Brew’ was recorded in three, three hour sessions: nine hours of music. All recording was done on reel-to-reel, analog eight-track recorders. Columbia was one of the few record labels that had these recording capabilities, and both Davis and Macero used them well.
For most of his career Davis was content to let Macero edit the sessions. He would play the music in the studio and then allow Macero to work on the editing. Svorinich makes a convincing case that Davis, for once, with ‘Bitches Brew’ took an intense interest in the way that the music was edited. He has documentation to prove it and you can see some of that in the book where a formal letter from Davis to Macero gives detailed instructions on how one section should be treated.
Svorinich is keen to emphasise Davis’s role in the post production. He ignores contrary views such as David Liebman’s , who played with Davis in the early seventies. Liebman said recently, ‘To put it bluntly, in my opinion, if it wasn’t for Teo’s post-production work, we would not have the same opinion concerning the recorded work of Miles Davis during Teo’s years as producer. His contribution was monumental and overlooked. Teo was also a consummate arranger and composer on his own with a very free spirit, almost childlike in his enthusiasm and energy.’
‘During the seventies,’ Svorinich admits, ‘when Davis was constantly touring, delving into debauchery, and working in and out of health problems, Teo was pretty much left alone to his devices, which certainly could have stirred up some animosity toward the trumpeter.’
The descriptions of the sessions and the way that Davis chose and worked with the musicians is intriguing. Many of the players were not really sure what was happening. Bassist Dave Holland did not really recognise the music when he first heard it nor did Benny Maupin. They had both been involved in a new way of recording.
There is padding and the book would have benefited from sharp editing. The last section detailing some of the photographers who attempted to capture Davis is interesting but not really central to the theme of the book. Nevertheless, this is worth reading for its account of what is still considered to be one of the highlights of Miles Davis’s career and central to an understanding of his music.
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Reviewed by Jack Kenny
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