168. Miles Davis / Kind of Blue (1959)

A review of Kind of Blue seems pointless. I'll muse for a few hundred words, and then quit. I imagine a world without this record, and that is a difficult world. It's a world where Bill Evans didn't sub for Wynton Kelly, a world in which countless musicians were struck by inspiration elsewhere. A world that is one milestone short of properly demarcating the future. A world where your brain is not irresistibly and without permission drawn to referencing all subsequent Miles Davis dates to this one. It's a world without the myth of it all being done in one take, a world where you don't have to buy that other CD to find out that what you missed was not really anything special. In this world, 1959 is not terribly different than 1958 or 1960. The Columbia vault is one cart of tapes lighter. It's a party that went one album different. It's the late night DJ who selects something by Cliff Brown instead. It's a world where the porter didn't see the CD on my passenger seat. It's a world where as a teenager, I didn't once stop my bicycle in the middle of an intersection to change the batteries of my headset. It's a world where my daughter was lulled into dreamland by someone else's trumpet, and awakened by someone who was not John Coltrane. It's a lot the same, but it's not the same, and I'd rather have it with Kind of Blue.

89. Charles Mingus / East Coasting (1957)

Happy Birthday, Charles Mingus! He'd would have been 91 today. I like East Coasting a lot, and always have. Maybe it's the title, but the longer I remain in exile west of the Mississippi, the more I am drawn to this record. The lineup is one of my very favorite Mingus groups, probably because of Shafi Hadi on alto and tenor, but it's complemented by Bill Evans. Proceedings start with a beautifully longing take of "Memories of You," which crackles through some unexpected turns as the soloists lend their voices. That's a good rule for the whole record, which is always surprising me. No matter how many times I hear it, I hear something new. Tonight, for instance, I'm really into that bass solo in "West Coast Ghost," and the brief but alarming resurgence of the ensemble when Mingus finishes, before they take it out on a lamb. Mingus was always concerned with harnessing group chemistry and giving his musicians plenty of freedom to interpret changes, and this album is an outstanding exemplar of that magic. It might lack the gravitas of other dates, but who cares. I need to hear "Celia" one more time....

66. Miles Davis / At Newport 1958 (1958)

This live disc features the sextet that recorded Kind of Blue a short time later. It's also the debut of Cobb and Evans with the group. Davis premiered his new lineup in the context of Newport's considerable inertia. The gloves are off right from the start. "Ah Leu Cha" is the fastest I've heard it played by anyone and Adderley, Davis, and Coltrane show off their chops in blistering runs of mind boggling accuracy. If you haven't heard this, I advise you turn up the volume to fully appreciate these musicians when they start blowing. I think their power even surprised the leader. It's like going from 0 to 60 in an instant. Davis is in high spirits, talking all throughout the set, encouraging his musicians. Evans is careful when he slips between Adderley and Coltrane, but offers excellent harmonic advice and makes a few pointed statements as with "Straight No Chaser." It's easy to see why Davis picked him, and to hear him outside of his role in guiding the modalities heard in Kind of Blue is quite exciting. A short-lived and critically under-documented group, I'm thankful to have this disc.

14. Chet Baker / Chet (1958)

I find Chet in a lot of those "best of" lists that describe it as essential listening, which I have a hard time understanding. I have mixed feelings about Baker, whose playing is often delicately soulful or angelic, but to my ears, lacks a crucial distinguishing feature. I've listened to many his records from the '50s on up, and this ballads-only outing from 1958 is immaculately performed and rather beautiful, but not terribly exciting. Still, it's the Baker album that gets the most play around my house. His band keeps a lid on their playing, which compresses the emotional impact of each ballad and causes them to smolder. Bill Evans, master of the devastating understatement, plays piano while Pepper Adams plays baritone. There isn't a tenor in sight, so the textures are a nice change of pace and along with the trumpet. make quite a romantic atmosphere. The group has a nose like a bloodhound to sniff out the heart of the ballad and lay it bare before the audience. In such a way, a few of these old chestnuts really shine, which is a good thing because there aren't any surprises in the playlist.