(Capitol)
!!! A+ RECORDING !!!
Cool jazz begins here -- the immediate decisive reaction to bebop that backgrounded its freshness and off-the-wall instrumentation with traditional big band or even classical (some would say stuffy) arrangements. But this roadmap for the subgenre belies the arm's-length ennui implied by its title. Miles Davis, even at the first stages of his grand career, couldn't have fallen for anything so safe -- if anything, it's unmitigated joy that lurks behind the adventurous jumping and tempo trickery of "Israel." The songs recorded by Davis' short-lived Nonet, who had enjoyed a couple of residencies before reconvening to lay down twelve songs for a series of Capitol 78s, never stop at being purely cerebral. By the admission of arranger Gil Evans, who deserves a large share of credit for the sound of Birth of the Cool, Davis is the playful driving force of this music that was actually the work of a large collective. And it's only through great care and ingenuity that a nine-man lineup could sound so streamlined, so specific and simple. Long after the bebop reactionary politics are forgotten, as they already are in most quarters, that simplicity remains startlingly ingratiating, and even if that weren't the case, the balancing of skittering, impassioned bop with conservative songcraft feels far more subversive than was probably intended.
Birth of the Cool arrived at a crossroads of enough far-flung historical interest that it stands as a fine jazz introduction, and in that regard it is an absolute prize, endlessly fun and involving to listen to, and its length and pace are breakneck enough (the consequence of being derived from 78s) that even the novice will never lose patience, the hooks lingering long after the individual songs. And although the range of material is eclectic, the songs fall together as a single, infinitely pleasing performance. Far from Davis' best work it may be, but it has a case as his most immediate -- even if much of its greatness can't entirely be pinned down to his trumpet.
But the loveliest moment does belong almost exclusively to Davis -- "Boplicity" may be his first masterful cut as bandleader. Considered with or without the rest of Birth of the Cool, it positively yearns, every note a powerhouse -- and most interestingly (and foretellingly), it owns up to and toys with the conservative roots of cool jazz like nothing else here, amounting at moments to nightclub big band twisted into a celebration, a sampling of pleasures and their emotional applications -- life as music and the opposite, or wherever those notes might lead.
This wasn't technically designed as an album -- the long-playing compilation of the first eleven sides first appeared in 1957 -- but it deserves consideration as one; in a sense, it gives birth to not just the genre of the title but to the concept that a series of session materials might prove a further greatness when set to play off one another, parallel entitles that reveal more when lined up. I am normally a stickler for the album / compilation divide, but this is my sole exception; I can't imagine these songs separated. However, be careful if you're seeking out the old 1957 LP -- until 1971, all copies omitted the flip of the final 78, "Darn That Dream," an odd selection sung (the only vocal track the Nonet released) by Kenny Hagood. Typically derided in jazz books, I find its weird distance intriguing and vaguely ghostly, almost antiquated, and the most fitting conclusion to the deceptively simple, secretly forward-thinking material collected on the rest of the record. However little it relates to the larger context of Miles Davis' output, Birth of the Cool is the real starting point of a career that would soon enough set music on its ear forever.
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