The Miles Davis Quintet: Miles In France 1963 & 1964: The Bootleg Series Vol. 8

At the very same time Beatlemania was slowly but surely beginning to engulf the globe, Miles Davis was inexorably proceeding toward what was the most adventurous music of his career. Miles In France -The Bootleg Series Vol. 8 captures a group of musicians led by "The Man with the Horn" on the threshold of forming what is referred to as his second great quintet, then actually coalescing into that stellar outfit.

And the drama within that designation rapidly comes to full flower even if the listener is not aware of the history including the great fanfare with which this archival series began in 2011. This set of a half-dozen compact discs (and also on eight vinyl LPs) thus functions as something of a prequel to one of, if not the most, bountiful creative periods in the fifty-plus-year career of Miles Davis.

It helps that in these mid-summer dates at the Mondial Festival in Europe, the fivesome in place at the time rises above the pinnacle of the studio recordings contained in Seven Steps to Heaven (Columbia, 1963), the last Davis album to contain standards. Abandoning songs like "Stella By Starlight" and "My Funny Valentine" was a crucial step away from convention in more ways than one. While the transitions between soloists are generally formal and polite to a fault, there are fleeing instances of the fiery combined improvisation that would distinguish the next lineup.

Not to disparage him, but saxophonist George Coleman only intermittently flashes such courage amid his prevalent reliance on bebop scales. In contrast, pianist Herbie Hancock regularly approaches the precipice of flying more freely into playing as spontaneously—and adventurously. At the end of the first disc, "Joshua" is just one instance.

Containing over four hours of unreleased live content, it is tempting to overlook the overlap of this package with previously issued titles such as Seven Steps: The Complete Miles Davis Columbia Recordings 1963-1964 (Legacy Recordings, 2004). In that respect, the curators of this ongoing archival endeavor have entered territory long inhabited by their counterparts at Experience Hendrix.

As such, this compendium's appeal may be for completists and/or the most devoted followers of Miles Davis. Of course, that is not much of a limitation: the late trumpeter/composer/bandleader has a lengthy discography that documents his position at the forefront of many major stylistic developments in jazz (see The Complete Birth of the Cool (Capitol, 1998).

The fact of the matter is that the superficial redundancies in this collection represent the ebb and flow of Davis' output around this pivotal point juncture of his recorded history. While he was hardly averse to impulse—the basic material of In A Silent Way (Columbia, 1969) was recorded in a single day for subsequent post-production by Teo Macero—but the late jazz icon also fostered perseverance in his work.

The aforementioned late 1960s watershed records were the culmination of a growing fascination with new forms including the LPs E.S.P. (Columbia, 1965) and Sorcerer (Columbia, 1967). And just as the quintets of these years relied on a fairly standard book for the stage, recording sessions of the 1970s era were often consumed with multiple variations on the new material at hand: see The Complete Jack Johnson Sessions (Legacy Recordings, 2003).

In the context of this specific compendium, it is well to note an exquisite sophistication in the playing, most often in the ethereal tones of the leader's horn. But there is also precocious drummer Tony Williams' deceptively intricate explorations of his kit like the one on 7/26/63's "Walkin.'" That tune, perhaps not coincidentally, is usually marked the home stretch of performances that usually lasted around an hour or slightly longer (if the concerts were not multi-set affairs).

The generally similar programs, invariably concluding with an ironic flourish dubbed "The Theme," remained after saxophonist/composer Wayne Shorter's induction into the lineup. But it becomes obvious in hearing the two recordings from October 1st of 1964—after Shorter had joined the Davis troupe following some four years of courtship—that the combustible level of the playing had escalated tremendously.

This collective clarity of thought is very much in keeping with the sound quality of the recordings. Producers Steve Berkowitz, Michael Cuscuna and Richard Seidel sourced the recordings with meticulous attention to detail for mastering by Vic Anesini, so, notwithstanding ever-so-slight sonic flaws, the ingenious intensity is readily apparent, particularly in sustained passages.

Individually and collectively, the five musicians evince an abiding curiosity as they explore the rhythmic and melodic nooks and crannies of material such as "All Blues." Accordingly, all four selections of the second set run into double-figure durations. A veritable flashpoint of inspiration for the group, Shorter's presence makes a world of difference in the playing of the whole quintet.

As on "Autumn Leaves," for instance, Hancock is subtly but decidedly more abandoned, while Davis himself imbues even his doleful solo there with a quiet jubilance. And on "So What," Williams becomes even more spirited in his playing, going back and forth with the saxophonist, as if to not only match the imaginative vigor of his playing, but also to impress and inspire and in turn himself to further heights.

The second show this October first '64 is alsoy revelatory, but in unusual ways. The mono recording does not allow Ron Carter's bass to be readily discernible in its depth, but it is nevertheless apparent that his playing takes on some of the elliptical angles his bandmates adopt. He hardly sounds reticent about moving vertically as well as horizontally, in support or solo roles, during "All Of You."

It is no accident each of the individuals present on Miles in France acquits himself with such style as to present the essence of his musical persona. Yet that's no surprise either because, as with the previous exhumations of Miles Davis' vault, the level of insightful acuity applied to the entire effort is beyond reproach. In a thirty-two-page booklet enclosed within the package's slipcase alongside each disc's gatefold jacket, interviews with Carter and Coleman are juxtaposed with an essay by Marcus J. Moore.

The writer's perceptions are particularly acute in capturing the turbulence that dominated Miles Davis' existence, both personal and professional. Yet he was most incisive in explicating how the various upheaval(s) ultimately led to the abandoned and liberating effect on the music.

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