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.

153. Miles Davis / Big Fun (1974)

Listening to Miles go electric 40 years ago, critics were in a different position. They took issue with his stylistic developments, because 1974 was much different than 1954. They were too close to see that the intervening years would witness Davis' massive influence on successive generations. Today we see what happened, so we evaluate their merits on another scale. It bears mentioning that these aren't records I can listen to every day. I don't have that kind of time to invest on a daily basis. Like Bitches Brew, the music on Big Fun explores modality through orchestration and arrangement. The tracks are brimming with textures, melodic ideas, and moods. Themes are played and repeated, then recalled, then played again. The effect is haunting, like beasts looming in a fog, vanishing and reappearing. After 22 mnutes, the effect is glacial. Like it says in the liner to Coltrane's Ascension, you shouldn't turn it on without expecting to hear at least a whole side. You can't be interrupted for a few minutes without the magic being broken, and the arc is lost with just a few minutes of play time. Collaborations with Zawinul like "Recollections" or "Great Expectations" fulfill the promise, and typify what's found elsewhere throughout the record. As if you really need a curveball, Davis added sitar and tabla.

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.

45. Cannonball Adderley / Somethin' Else (1958)

I listen to this at least once a month, an album that is still fresh so many years after it was made, and a bona fide classic by many accounts. Like Kind of Blue, if I had to, I could hum the whole thing from memory. Their flavors are similar in more ways than one, yet the two records aren't really anything alike. But here it certainly feels like Miles is the leader. The patient tempos, arrangement style, and selections all speak to Davis' direction. He even takes the first choruses. The drum chair is Art Blakey this time, with Hank Jones on piano and Sam on bass. Like Kind of Blue, when Davis goes first, it gives Adderley some lines to think about, propelling him into new areas. Davis' own choruses are a mixture of pensive statements through the mute, or beautifully full-bodied open horn. Listen to Davis and Adderley trading licks on brother Nat's "Blues for Daddy-O," the smokey noir of "Autumn Leaves" or doing call and response on the Davis penned title track. Art Blakey was the perfect choice as drummer, and assertively swings the procession with his snare and hi hat, while Hank and Sam work closely tying up the other end. The mood of "Autumn Leaves" is largely created by the good work of Hank Jones, which never seems to end. Together these songs are a remarkable synthesis of talent and chemistry that's one of the best enduring works of jazz.

38. Miles Davis / Ballads (1990)

Talk about the quintessential nonessential Miles Davis CD, this is it. Columbia compiled a scanty eight tracks recorded between 1961 and '63, and released them here with a ballads-only theme. Very little about Miles Davis in the sixties sounds dated or anachronistic to my ears, but in today's climate of iPods and customized playlists, such a compilation album doesn't have the same role it did in 1990. And this product, as a whole, hasn't aged well even if the opposite is true for the selections themselves. I say it didn't age well but I'm not sure it would have made sense 20 years ago, either. First, it's an odd choice of material if you're trying to showcase what Davis could do with a ballad. Five tracks by the Gil Evans orchestra, two by the quintet with George Coleman and a live cut by the Mobley quintet is a rather baffling sequence. Are we doing Evans, or a club date? Because the two are so unlike each other that the program seems interrupted when the group changes. The very context of the Gil Evans orchestra was so different than that of a street group, any street group, that a ballad within its fold is a thing transmuted, a wholly different musical animal. Good work from everyone involved musically, but shame on Columbia for ever selling this.

29. Ahmad Jamal / Chamber Music of the New Jazz (1955)

I find myself listening to the 'original unconventional' piano trio again and again, and I enjoy it more each time I hear it. It's light and refreshing, cracking with good ideas and smooth sailing without even a hint of drums. Why bother? Jamal has Israel Crosby doing great interplay on bass while also hitting the pulse, and Ray Crawford strikes and plucks the guitar for a similar effect. Crawford has some good solo space, too, while Jamal comps or plays with Crosby. The three musicians have effervescent chemistry and often finish each other's sentences, musically speaking. Jamal has enough room to use the piano trio for what it was meant intended. He does all kinds of inventive stuff and blocks or plays alone with his right hand, occasionally dropping boulders to make the point. You can hear he's trying stuff out, and uses the full range of the keyboard, too. The influential player and album were like a drop of water for the arrangers' seed, inspiring Gil Evans and Miles Davis to the heights of cool in the 1950s. Best part is when it comes to Jamal, this album was only the beginning.

20. Miles Davis / The New Miles Davis Quintet (1956)

The maiden voyage on wax by the famous first quintet is short, sweet, and relaxed. It's still a young group as far as studio work was concerned so the set is fairly vanilla but hides a few gems, like Benny Golson's "Stablemates" and "The Theme," which is probably the hottest take on the disc. The performances hardly hint at what the band was capable of in a live setting, but Miles solos frequently and I really enjoy his thoughtful way with phrasing the ballads. Coltrane was still fishing for his voice and sounds a mite green compared to a few years later, but you can hear the pieces he's setting up. Another highlight is the opener, Ellington's "Just Squeeze Me." It has Chambers walking some coy figures on the bass while Philly Joe is keen to join the fun with the kick and snare, also playing some cool syncopated figures on the hi-hat. Overall, it's a smooth but enjoyable cruise and is sometimes so restrained that the rhythm section stands out more than the front line.

01. Charlie Parker / The Complete Savoy and Dial (2002)

Charlie Parker's light went out while he was still young, so his recordings are condensed, roughly, inside of a single decade. That's still a lot music if you include previously unissued live recordings, studio outtakes, etc. But the short career makes the Parker oeuvre relatively digestible compared to that of say, Dizzy Gillespie, who worked for 50 years. So I'm happy that we have this compilation of all the Savoy and Dial sides, a trump-all set that makes the job of digestion so much easier. If you're new to Bird, then start here. Collectors and academic listeners will prefer the complete recordings (splurge a hundred bucks for those) while anyone just wanting to hear the music, without the clams, false starts and other glorious mistakes, will pick the Master Takes for a third of the price.