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Archive for the ‘Jazz’ Category

Day 15. John Coltrane.

Tuesday, February 2nd, 2010


Where yesterday’s entry had me being nostalgic about the packaging of Astor Piazzolla’s last few discs, tonight’s packaging covers the other end of the spectrum. John Coltrane’s ‘The Classic Quartet – Complete Impulse! Studio Recordings’ appears to be a packaging marvel. A metallic sheath around a brown leather binder that holds a huge stack of discs.

It is, without a doubt, the clumsiest package of CDs I have. The leather sticks (and holds on with a firm grip) to the metal. You have to pry the metal off the leather unless you have done so within the last 30 minutes. It then folds out to 4 (!) leather panels, one which has a booklet attached to it. But when I say attached, what I really mean is that it basically lacks all the adhesive quality that the leather / metal combo has. We’re talking a little bit of rubber cement holding a paper backing to leather.

Then there is what is actually in the box. ‘The Classic Quartet – Complete Impulse! Studio Recordings’ is quite literal… No live recordings of this amazing group (because the word ‘studio’ is in the title). The tracks are sometimes separated from longer complete albums where another performer may have sat in for a tune or two. So this box is in no way a complete set of Coltrane’s work on Impulse!, even during the time span it covers. Unlike other box sets it you don’t get the benefit of avoiding the purchase of the full discs. I bought this set the day it came out (eager to hear some of the bonus tracks of outtakes and to, I thought, fill out a few missing discs). But apparently I didn’t parse the words on the metal cover closely enough! In the ‘book of notes where the binding shall not break and the owner will never read the text against the margin’ there are a few comments about how special the years 1961-65 were for Coltrane, Jimmy Garrison, McCoy Tyner and Elvin Jones (and ONLY THESE FOUR PEOPLE!) were. So – the label knew it was pulling a fast one, and finds ways to apologize for it in the booklet.

But – enough whining about packaging / marketing. When Mira and her love of all things box-set pointed to this collection tonight I was quite happy. I will not miss this packaging, but will GREATLY enjoy the new easy access to this music. Sure, there are tracks missing from this set, but as my collection moves to the level beyond CDs and 74 minute time limits that will all disappear. Sure – I will have two copies of  ‘A Love Supreme’ on my computer – the one from this set and the one that will later come from the Impulse! re-issue (that also contains outtakes with an expanded performer line-up). But it is ‘A Love Supreme’ that is taking that space up twice!!! One of the greatest musical monuments of 20th century music! And this is only the case if I don’t spend the 20 seconds it would take to remove the duplicate files… Really, tonight is one of the night’s where I really see how pulling everything off disc and onto the computer is a great move.

Coltrane is, simply put, one of my favorite musicians. And I might have more Coltrane then anyone else except for Beethoven and Bach. I would hunt for live recordings when I worked at Tower and am still surprised how much I paid for a few of them. I could probably write a couple hundred pages on Coltrane and how he has figured in my life as a musician and on a personal level. His music figures into some of my most vivid memories that are linked with music. It wouldn’t be hard for me to make a ‘Top Ten list of Coltrane memories’ and find that a good amount of those memories are in the ‘Top Ten memories of my life so far up to 35’ list. Lots of crossover. Partly because he is one of the musicians I have listened to more then just about any other musician (so, even by coincidence, there would be crossover) but also because Coltrane is usually on when I am feeling good or confident or in need of energy or in need of inspiration or in need of abandon or in need of mental stimulation or … the list can go on. He is a beautiful performer, and there are few others in recorded history who show such a sense of trajectory and evolution throughout their entire career. Listening to Coltrane is like listening to Beethoven. A few moments of his playing and I can usually tell it is him and about when the performance was recorded and often who he is playing with. He constantly challenged himself musically and personally and it is exciting to have recordings that give us a glimpse of that growth.

As I mentioned above the box covers the years 1961-65. All were recorded in Rudy Van Gelder’s studio in New Jersey. I have pretty much all this music on other discs that I will be pulling off later in this project (even a couple tomorrow that were next to the box-set that Mira chose) so I will spend much more time in the future talking about the music. But for now I am going to leave off with just what I have said above. All that while I listen to ‘Out Of This World’ originally released on the album ‘Coltrane’. This was recorded in 1961. Some of the stretching out in Coltrane’s playing is really beginning to come out in these recordings (which happen after his years with Atlantic which are smoother performance wise). There is the occasional ‘honk’ and ‘growl’ that was already appearing in his live performances (but rarely in his studio recordings). He is surrounded by three of the most amazing musicians he would ever record with, and that is saying something when you consider the legends Coltrane performed with! Playing a track of ‘Coltrane’ then jumping ahead to some of the tracks that would appear in ’65 on ‘Sun Ship’ really shows how Coltrane changed and grew in four years. There is almost 9 hours of music in this set – and it is a thrilling ride.

Day 14. Astor Piazzolla.

Tuesday, February 2nd, 2010


Strip to your underwear if you’re not in black tie. Get obscene if you want, but never casual. You feel an urge? Touch its pain, wrap yourself around it. Don’t put on airs. What you seem must be what you are, and what you are is a mess, honey, but that’s okay, as long as you wear it inside. Look sharp! Don’t slouch. See anyone slouching here? Stay poised, taut, on guard. Listen to your nerves. It’s zero hour. Anxiety encroaches, wave after wave, with every squeeze of the bandoneon. Already twisted by the contraposto of uprightness and savagery, this new tango turns the screw even tighter with its jazz dissonances and truncated phrasings. No relief. No quarter. At zero hour only passion can save you. Time is flowing backward and forward into the vortex. From the rooms come a warm air and a choked melody of syncopated gasps. Something throbs. A vein under your skin. It’s inside you now, this bordello virus, this pleasure that tastes so much of anger and grief. When you find pools of pure, sweet light, bathe in their waters, balm for your lacerations. For the whiplash scars the bandoneon is leaving on your soul. If this were the old milonga of the slums, or those popular songs about painted faces and purloined love, you could let distance sketch a smile on your lips. Cheap irony. You won’t get away that easy. This music is for you. It always had you in mind, your habits, your twitches, the tiny blood vessels bursting inside you when you hide what you feel. So walk in the parlor, bring your friend or come alone. Come hear the master as he unravels the wind inside the box, as he presses the growling tiger that threatens to embrace him and shapes the beast into a purring kitten. And tiger again. And kitten. It’s all a game. You’re going to play it too, you’re going to dance with the tiger. Don’t worry, your life is in danger. Remember your instructions. Listen up. And suffer, motherfucker, this is the tango.

– Enrique Fernandez – Liner Notes for ‘Astor Piazzolla – Tango: Zero Hour’ on American Clave

One of my fondest memories of working at the Tower Records on Sunrise (in Citrus Heights, CA) was the Sunday night closing shift with my friend Rob. The store was absolutely dead from 9pm until midnight, and this meant a couple of things. One was that I could get most of the registers closed out and / or sorted before we actually locked the doors (and we could be out of the store by 12:10). The other was that Rob and I would scour the jazz / classical section and look for music we had never heard before. We would buy it that night, then drive down to the Tower cafe (on Broadway) for coffee, listening to whatever we found. We based our decision on only one criteria – the album cover had to be good. Most of the time, we would just return the disc later that week for credit because the music itself wasn’t good, but we also were introduced to some amazing music that I doubt we would have found otherwise.

In one instance, we were also introduced to an entire label. Kip Hanrahan’s American Clave label caught our eye early on. Kip’s album ‘Tenderness’ with its black plastic cover with gold lettering LOOKED cool (and we would discover that it was… cool, dark, and full of energy). But the first disc that we picked up from AC was Astor Piazzolla’s ‘Tango: Zero Hour’. The original cover was in a paper eco-pack (rare at this time) with glossy print and an iridescent sheen, of an older man playing what appeared to be an accordion. At the time, both Rob and I mostly related the accordion to polka and They Might Be Giants. I certainly had little to no experience with tango and the actual world of accordion that I do know about now. And on top of that, this wasn’t an accordion, it was a bandoneon. I can’t find the original description that I found describing what the bandoneon was, but I remember the phrases ‘one of the more unforgiving instruments ever invented’, and that it took a good amount of upper body strength to pull its bellows out to its largest span (something that I would find pics of Piazzolla doing quite a bit – I now realize he was showing off).

‘Tango: Zero Hour’ begins with Tanguieda III, which I also saw subtitled (somewhere) as ‘Anxiety’. The music starts with murmuring voices, rising in pitch and intensity. The finally backing off to let a slower tango begin. But this too builds up in layers, speed and intensity only to be brutally cut off again. Then the intensity builds again, the violin begins to screech louder. I can still remember my pulse racing along with this song the first time I heard it in the car after work. We didn’t get coffee… we didn’t need it. We needed to drive around for the next two hours and listen to this music.

Over the next few weeks we picked up the rest of the American Clave Piazzolla discs as well as a number of Kip’s own albums. I still have every single one and they are one of the high points of my collection. I still get excited listening to this music that has been in my life for close to 20 years now, and I love telling others about it. I also remember how sad I was when I found out that the Piazzolla discs on American Clave were his last, and that he had passed away. Of course I found MANY other Piazzolla recordings since then, but these three remain quite special to me. The energy and edginess on them come from the amazing collaboration between Piazzolla and Hanrahan, and to me they stand out as Piazzolla’s greatest work.

These three albums (‘Tango: Zero Hour’, ‘The Rough Dancer And The Cyclical Night (Tango Appasionado)’ and ‘La Camorra’) have all been re-issued on Nonesuch. But if you can, find the original American Clave discs. The re-issues are packaged in normal jewel cases, and in one case the cover changed (a real real shame). I remember seeing the re-issues come in to Barnes and Noble while I worked there, and I was excited to see the music available again. But like my button-up shirt and tie and the smooth jazz playing over the loudspeakers, these discs seemed packaged and marketed for a different audience.

But in a way that is ok, because that calmer, smooth jazz audience would get home, put on this music and realize that this music is ‘…Already twisted by the contraposto of uprightness and savagery, this new tango turns the screw even tighter with its jazz dissonances and truncated phrasings. No relief. No quarter. At zero hour only passion can save you.’

Day 12. Waiting, waiting … then Louis Prima.

Sunday, January 31st, 2010

After letting the backup run overnight two nights ago (then into the day yesterday, then into last night) I finally got to pull the Capitol Series collection of Louis Prima (with lots of Keely Smith and Sam Butera as well!) onto the computer.

I get my love for Louis Prima from my grandfather. He told me as a kid that while most Italians listen to Frank Sinatra, all REAL Italians listen to Louis Prima. My grandpa was also on a quest for a live album of Louis Prima live in Lake Tahoe that featured a performance of Tony Bennet’s ‘I Left My Heart In San Francisco’ that wasn’t really sung, but was spoken in a thick Italian accent with confused lyrics. And I think a performance like that really shows the difference between Ol’ Blue Eyes and The Lip… there was always a deep sense of humor that Prima brought to his show. Actually – Prima saw his performances (even on disc) as a show, filled with humor and sight-gags in addition to some great playing. The sight-gags often included Prima’s ‘straight-man’ (and wife) Keely Smith, or him and Sam Butera (his long time saxophone player) battling it out with musical jabs.

The ‘Capitol Collector’s Series’ disc is a great one disc set of studio recordings mostly made in the 50s and 60s. There are songs about Sputnik. There are a number of standards that turn into the signature Prima Jumpin’ Jive (‘Lazy River’, ‘I’ve Got The World On A String’), remakes of some Prima standards from his earlier days as a swing band leader (most notable ‘Sing Sing Sing (With A Swing)’) and some early mash-ups (‘Just A Gigolo / I Ain’t Got Nobody’ and ‘Angelina / Zooma Zooma’).

When Tamiko and I would throw dinner parties in our older apartment living days, I would throw Louis Prima on if we were making Italian food … while the red sauce was simmering and the bottle of wine had already been opened. And I finally did find a disc of the live Tahoe show for my grandpa… it was a riot to hear, and he had the biggest smile on his face while listening to ‘I Left My Heart In San Francisco’. I could tell he was remembering the performances he saw back in the 60s. Just hearing it was lots of fun for me… I can’t imagine what it would have been like to see this group play live.

Day 11. Nina Simone.

Saturday, January 30th, 2010


The first time I heard Nina Simone was a late night at the Tower Records in Berkeley (while shelving some discs). The song was ‘Sinnerman’, and when I heard her voice I had to find out who it was singing. And as the song builds up, the piano playing becomes manic… frantic… and I had to figure out who was playing piano. And it was still Nina Simone! Then the clapping begins, some vocal utterances, and the piano puts a simple melody over the top of it. And then it brings the rest of the band back in. Nina sings out an ‘Oh yeah!’. Then everything picks up again. The energy in this performance is simply amazing.

I picked up a single greatest hits disc on Philips records that night that had ‘Sinnerman’ on it, and was amazed by the whole disc. From the vocal standard styling on ‘I Loves You Porgy’ to the driving and tight flute and drums of ‘See-Line Woman’. ‘Pirate Jenny’, ‘Four Women’ and ‘Mississippi Goddam’. The variety and breadth of her performances on this single disc stunned me.

The discs tonight are that ‘Best of’ disc and the ‘Four Women’ box set of her Philips releases. Where the ‘Best of’ collection contains mostly serious and dark songs, I was surprised to hear how much humor Nina Simone also had at times. In ‘Go Limp’ she leads the audience in what she calls a ‘hootenanny time’ sing-along… mostly a drunken waltz that sets women’s rights and the civil rights movement against the story of a mother telling her daughter how to snag a man. It is a drunken waltz that lets her vamp as she laughs at the song, and criticizes her audience for not singing along as loud as they should. The song is also filled with a number of pregnant pauses while she waits for the audience to get the jokes that are in the song’s lyrics.

‘Love Me Or Leave Me’ shows off her classical training (with some wonderful imitative playing in the middle of the song) and ‘Nobody Knows You When You’re Down And Out’ shows how bluesy she could get.

A couple years after Tamiko and I moved to Seattle, Nina Simone played a concert at the Seattle Symphony’s Benaroya Hall. She was making a rare appearance in the States (she had moved to Paris decades before after deciding that she couldn’t live in the U.S. anymore since she would always be treated as a second-class citizen because of the color of her skin), and I know I should have found some way to get tickets. They were well outside our graduate student budget but I should have realized that this was surely the last chance we would have to see her perform live. The reviews talked about how stunning the performance was. She passed away two years later. I regret not seeing James Brown before he died. I regret skipping on Elvin Jones thinking I’d catch him the next time around. But missing Nina Simone will probably be one of my biggest concert regrets for some time.

UPDATE: the backup is STILL running… guess this one isn’t going to get ripped until tomorrow.

Day 9. Miles Davis.

Thursday, January 28th, 2010

I finished up the Bach box late last night and picked up with Mira’s next box set choice, the complete Miles Davis Bitchess Brew sessions. ‘Miles Runs The Voodoo Down”… what an amazing track (and title)! ‘John McLaughlin’… really, some amazing music on this album. Miles described ‘Bitches Brew’ as rock music for black people. And ‘Bitches Brew’ does rock. As Miles’ career takes his music through rock, funk and towards the covering of Cyndi Lauper songs, he was a major innovator and risk taker. His genius let him jump into these areas, and he did it while finding the best young musicians around him.

And as much as I love this album, there is so much about what follows in jazz history that I negatively link to it. While rock music is brought into jazz, it also opened the floodgates to where way too many others decide they can simply do the same thing and be ‘innovative’. What we are left with now is a large number of ‘jazz’ musicians today that simply play rock (soft rock, pop, elevator music) without vocals and claim that they belong to the lineage that was established  by Louis Armstrong, Charlie Parker, Thelonious Monk and John Coltrane.

I can never express how difficult it was for me to shelve Kenny G next to Red Garland, or the Yellowjackets ANYWHERE near Cannonball Adderley. Now – I don’t blame Miles Davis for the creation of smooth / bad jazz. It would have happened no matter what. But when you talk about the revolution that ‘Bitches Brew’ brought to jazz – how it led to Fusion, etc. – well, that’s a road that I wish Miles wasn’t associated with. ‘Bitches Brew’ may be ‘fusion’ but it certainly isn’t Fusion. It’s rough and edgy and gets a lot of energy from the influences brought in and the performances it creates. But it isn’t simply pop music with an instrumental melody. And this is what I feel most contemporary ‘jazz’ has become. Just adult contemporary bland trash.

I’m not saying that jazz is dead or that there isn’t innovation anymore. There certainly is. You have to look for it (and I don’t necessarily think that is a bad thing). Word of mouth really is how you find the best music out there. For those in the Seattle area, check out Cuong Vu, Evan Flory-Barnes, Sunship and the Tom Baker Quartet. Check out the recordings of  The Splatter Trio and Kip Hanrahan. Check out William Parker. Get to a Cecil Taylor show while you still can. These artists are all finding ways to expand the genre in interesting ways and the are bringing in wide and diverse influences. See how these groups and players connect to ‘Bitches Brew’, and see if that helps you get the 70s turn toward bad jazz taste out of your mouth.

Day 4. Beethoven, Lee Morgan, Billy Bragg & Wilco and Monteverdi

Saturday, January 23rd, 2010

Tonight’s selections were:

Billy Bragg & Wilco: Mermaid Ave. 2

Lee Morgan: Leeway (the RVG edition)

Monteverdi: L’Orfeo (John Eliot Gardiner conducting on Archiv)

Beethoven: complete piano trios from the DG Complete Beethoven Edition

I can’t possibly talk about all of these at the moment, and I have only listened so far to some of the Beethoven and the Lee Morgan. So I’ll stick to those.

‘Leeway’, and the series from Blue Note that it is released under the ‘Rudy Van Gelder edition’ sounds like what Blue Note jazz in the late 50s and 60s sounded like, mostly because so much was recorded in Rudy Van Gelder’s living room (and later his custom studio). The number of GREAT jazz albums recorded by RVG is astounding, and when Blue Note started re-releasing these recordings in the 2000s (remastered by RVG himself) I grabbed as many as I could every time Blue Note discs were on sale. They sound great. And even better is the exposure you get to some great artists that may seem peripheral to the jazz greats. But you really do get a sense of how all of these guys worked and played together on each other’s albums. Hearing a ‘Lee Morgan’ album isn’t just a Lee Morgan album. Art Blakey, Paul Chambers, Jackie McLean and Bobby Timmons are in on the session as well. All of these guys had albums under their own names, most notably Art Blakey. And I love Lee Morgan – but how were the decisions made about who would get the album credit? Why isn’t this an Art Blakey album? When it comes down to it, this one really does feature Lee Morgan… hands down. But then you listen to “Lazy Bird” on John Coltrane’s album “Blue Train”, and how is THAT not something that belongs on a Lee Morgan album???

Nice stretched out performances (the shortest track is still over 8 minutes) that are just cool. And what the RVG recordings show you is how important a recording engineer can be. The sound on RVG recordings really have a signature. There is a story I remember hearing about the first time Herbie Hancock recorded at the studio. Apparently he came in and started to move the piano a bit away from a wall, then started to move a microphone boom stand, and Rudy freaks out. The piano and microphones HAD to be in those spots for it to sound right. The way the sound bounced off the wall and the distance of the mic from the piano had been tuned over years of trial and error…

The recording engineer (and producers) are often the most overlooked musicians. Without them, sound wouldn’t be captured and made available for us to listen to. And they need to learn how to play their instruments in the same way a saxophonist does. It takes years of practice to get your sound, and after a little practice on a listeners part you can recognize RVG recordings (on many labels) just like you would recognize Lee Morgan’s trumpet sound.

The Beethoven discs are the piano trio recordings by Wilhelm Kempff, Pierre Fournier and Henryk Szeryng made in the late 60s. Kempff and Fournier are two of my favorite classical musicians of all time. I also have live recordings that the two of them did of the Beethoven Cello Sonatas. What is so fun about both the piano trio recordings and the sonatas is the sense of enjoyment these performers bring to pieces that they had probably known for 3 to 4 decades at this point in their lives. This is music that is in their muscles. A part of their physicality. But with the wisdom comes age. The performances are not ‘perfect’… there are missed notes here and there, and sometimes you can feel the group pull back a little to regroup. But everything is so musical. There actually isn’t a single note in these recordings. There is such a continuity that it is hard to believe that what we hear these three men playing is somehow represented by something as finite as dots and lines on a page. Beethoven is so lucky to have had people in this world that know and play his music with such connection. Well – Beethoven is lucky, but we are just as lucky! I could go on further, but I need to save something for the many returns to these artists I will be making in the future.

Day 3. Ella Fitzgerald and Luciano Berio.

Friday, January 22nd, 2010

Today’s picks come from Mira, and I am starting to notice that she is drawn to wider, more colorful packaging. I guess this means box sets will be ripped first.

The Berio recording I ripped tonight is the ‘complete’ Berio Sequenzas released on DG in 1998 (and I put the quote around complete because Berio composed a couple more after this). I had very little contact with Berio before coming to the University of Washington for grad school, and I was sent to Berio’s scores and recordings of performances of his music early on in my masters degree. I was beginning work on a piece for solo viola, and Richard Karpen scolded me for even thinking about composing works for a solo instrument without knowing these pieces. I wouldn’t be surprised even if he told me that I shouldn’t think about being a composer without knowing these pieces. But it is sufficient to say that I learned quickly that there were some serious holes in my knowledge of repertoire. Berio has become one of my favorite composers. I remember finding the Sequenzas quite uneven on my first listening to these performances (and still find some of these recordings flat). Studying the scores however was like looking at an encyclopedia of extended techniques for each instrument that he composed for. One of my most important lessons about music in general came from further listenings of these pieces. I was amazed how different performances could be, and I came to see the performance of new music not necessarily as a striving for a note perfect representation of dots on a page (where it was the responsibility of the composer to hyper-notate every nuance that is wanted) but as a relationship between composer, performer, performance history and performance practice. These pieces greatly changed how I viewed my role in the world as a composer, and this outlook still changes with every performance I have and piece I write. These pieces also taught me about how important the theatrical performance of a work is. While I have found recordings of these pieces that I enjoy listening to (there will be more writings about the Sequenzas here while the project goes on), seeing them performed (even rehearsed) adds so much to the listening of them. Seeing how a performer grapples with the technical and musical demands of this music is exhilarating.

Ella Fitzgerald’s ‘songbook’ collections came out on Verve first in the 50s and 60s on LP and were reissued on CD in the late 90s. A quick search on Wikipedia (to grab the above dates) also revealed that in 2000 this ALBUM was inducted into the Grammy Hall of Fame, and in 2003 the Library of Congress chose it as one of 50 recordings added to the National Recording Registry. To call this album a treasure is an understatement. It is one of the most beautifully compiled set of performances I think I own. I have played this music while closing the record store for the night, I have played tracks from it for my music theory students, and I have played it just about anytime I need something to lighten me up a bit. Personally, I believe these recordings were captured near the peak of Ella Fitzgerald’s career (along with the ‘Cote d’Azur’ recordings that were done with Duke Ellington). Her musicality is startling, and she may be one of the most perfect interpreters of Cole Porter’s music that I can think of. Her voice on ‘Miss Otis Regrets’ embodies the complexity of the story told in the lyrics, full of sorrow and relief at the same time. ‘You Do Something To Me’ and ‘Too Darn Hot’ embody what I imagine Manhattan sexy in the 50s must have been. But it is her version of ‘I Love Paris’ that is probably one of the top 10 songs that I get stuck in my head. Buddy Bergman’s orchestral arrangement does more the compliment Ella’s voice. This song achieves a stunning relationship between the singer and her accompaniment, rising well above a sum of the two parts. Having such a clear image of this song in my head is one of my most treasured musical memories.

Day 2. The Beatles and Miles Davis.

Thursday, January 21st, 2010

For tonight’s decisions, I decided that I needed to pick Mira up so she could choose something from a higher shelf. At the girl’s current height, the bookshelves would have quickly become top heavy. Celia chose The Beatles, and Mira went for the shiny ‘Seven Steps’ Miles Davis box set (the period on Columbia Records between his group with Coltrane that produced ‘Kind Of Blue’ and the famous Quintet.

I could talk about how great this music is… I could talk about how influential The Beatles’ seven years of recorded output was to the history of pop music. I could talk about how these transitional years of Miles Davis’ career produced some great performances while a new group slowly came together. But I could fill books with that kind of talk, and my guess is that if you are reading this you don’t need to be convinced about The Beatles or Miles Davis. So, I’ll talk about packaging.

I don’t think I have any memories of music in my life pre-Beatles. Ever since I have known music, I have known The Beatles and there are two visuals that come to mind – the cover for Sgt. Pepper and the Apple / half-Apple record labels on the later LPs. I can’t tell you how sad I was to see the CD cover for Sgt. Pepper when it first came out. The original LP that folded out, had lyrics printed on the back (first pop record to do this!!!) and the Sgt. Pepper cutouts were as much a part of the record as the music was. The White Album and its four full color photos that my dad hung in the garage. And the 12 x 12 cover of Abbey Road. The size mattered, and so did the way the album covers wore with time. They were old when I got to know them, taken in and out of shelves over and over again to be played. The jackets aged the more you played the LPs they conyained.

So much was lost with the compact disc. 98% plastic standardized jewel cases. The yellow spine for R.E.M.’s ‘Automatic For The People’ seemed special when it came out, that’s how boring and homogenized the packaging was. Especially after the death of the long box, which was meant to just be thrown away anyways (though I would save them and plaster them to my teenage walls). So when a company DID do something different with packaging, it caught attention. After some time, there were even awards for it. Packaging! Did it matter what was on the discs? Nope – just awards for packaging… and I think that shows just how bad it got.

The packaging for the Miles Davis Columbia Records compilations won several of these awards. ‘Seven Steps’ has a metallic silver spine, surrounded by a grey canvas-like sturdy box. You can’t open the booklet to save your life, and the cardboard sleeves inside certainly can’t be good for the discs. But they look sharp, especially when they are all lined up in a row on a shelf. Well… now there is one less on mine.

Included in ‘Seven Steps’ is ‘Live In Berlin’ (pictured above). I originally bought this one disc for about half the price of this box set as a Japanese import. It is still one of my favorite live discs. The group as it stands on this recording probably existed for 6 months or so, and they are mostly playing music that was written and performed when John Coltrane and Bill Evans was playing with Miles in the late 50s. There is tension there, and often the tempos are faster. They are exciting performances, but you can hear that the players realize there are ghosts on the stage. They were following greatness, and at the time were probably wondering if THEY were the next great group, trying to prove to the audience and Miles that they could make the cut. Well – this isn’t the Quintet to come, but this isn’t to slight them at all. These are some fine performances… and I’m glad I got the import version when I did. The extra cost was well worth the extra time I had with this music.