How It Happened For Miles Davis
A look at Miles Davis - That's What Happened 1982-85: The Bootleg Series Vol. 7
The knock on MIles Davis is that during the 1980s he’d lost his edge and retreated into playing pop songs, that his albums show him lacking creativity and playing softer and smoother music. And to an extent that’s true - nothing he did after 1975 has the hard edges of Pangea or Agartha.
Which is what makes That’s What Happened 1982-85: The Bootleg Series Vol. 7 such an interesting idea for a record. It shines a light on his overlooked early 80s records and has a full concert to boot. It tries to explain his approach to music in this period, giving insight into how he worked in the studio and how he performed on stage. It’s not essential, but it’s a fascinating listen.
Disc one opens with “Santana,” a lengthy outtake from the Star People sessions. The song starts with synths and a driving funk groove. At times it reminds me of a less busy style of the kind of music he played on On the Corner. But with its very 1980s sounding keyboards, slick grooves and driving percussion, it almost reminds me of a curious mix of smooth jazz and vaporwave, or at least something Numero Group would dig up for a compilation. Just compare it to what people like Tony Palkovic or Plunky were doing (both songs are on Numero’s wonderful NuLeaf compilation disc).
But this isn’t exactly a CD of outtakes, it’s more a collection of alternates that provide some insight into Davis’s studio methods. There are two takes for “Minor Ninths” and three for “Celestial Blues.” “Ninth” shows Davis working in a duet, blowing slow bluesy lines against an electric piano, probing around and exploring the song - it’s interesting, but not essential. The first take of “Celestial Blues” meanwhile has Marcus Miller playing a slow groove with Al Foster’s light drumming, and Davis sort of darting around the melody. The second take is shorter, but shows Davis playing with effects: his horn is drenched in reverb and the song’s played a touch faster, and although the take breaks down we get to hear Davis talk with Teo Macero a little.
“Remake of OBX Ballad” is another example of him working. It’s presented in two takes: a first has Davis playing a keyboard (presumably an Oberheim OB-X), leading the band in a slow groove. Think “Rated X” off Get Up With It, but way more mellow and laid-back. Bill Evans plays sax here with a mild, smooth tone, carrying the song’s melody as Davis seems to guide the band via a keyboard.
The second take is a fuller session, lasting a few minutes longer and showing the band playing a peppy, finger-snapping groove. Unlike the other take, this one has a tasty guitar solo but it also sort of breaks down: the band drops out and Davis plays a series of chords before they kick back in. It’s an interesting example of Davis’s more mellow side although it also sounds a little bit like the band trying to make something work in the studio, as opposed to coming in as a polished unit.
The disc closes off with two versions of “Freaky Deaky,” a song that would end up on 1984’s Decoy. The first has bassist Darryl Jones working around a circular bass figure while John Scofield plays some wah-drenched licks. Davis plays quick riffs on his horn, working around Scofield’s guitar. By the second take, Davis moves to keyboard, guiding the music while Scofield plays leads. This one is much closer to what ended up on Decoy, although it’s longer. Both feel like sketches and neither connect quite the same way “Santana” does, but they’re interesting in how they show Davis trying different ideas for the same song.
In Miles Beyond, a book on Davis’s electric years, Paul Tingen quotes Scofield on this piece: “The first take had Miles blowing an incredible solo,” he says, “It's a totally weird kind of blues.” I’m not sure I’d go that far, but even I think Tingen was a little dismissive when he wrote: “The sole importance of ‘Freaky Deaky’ may lay in the fact that it showed Miles that production was not his forte.”
The second disc is dedicated to 1985’s You’re Under Arrest, Davis’s final recorded album for Columbia. There’s again alternate takes and full sessions, plus a demo and some outtakes. The alternates for “Time After Time” and “Human Nature” add little to the originals, but both are longer and have longer solos. The full session of “Time After Time” stretches for over eight minutes and has Davis blowing for pretty much all of them. It’s an interesting listen: he varies his approach, darts around ideas and doesn’t seem to repeat himself too much. It’s a nice performance, one that feels looser and more spontaneous than the take used on the record.
A notable highlight on this disc is a performance of “What’s Love Got to Do With It,” another mid-80s pop hit, but one I’d never heard before. According to Tingen’s Miles Ahead, Davis recorded a slew of pop songs in early 1984, including songs by Chaka Khan, Dionne Warwick, Toto and Nick Kershaw. The idea was to do a full album of them, but instead only a couple of them ended on You’re Under Arrest. It’s too bad: the version of “What’s Love” is a nice mid-tempo performance where Davis’s playing shines. If nothing else, it would’ve been a great b-side for a single or something.
The other outtakes are something of a mixed bag. There’s two versions of “Hopscotch,” each played at a different tempo. The quicker version has a nice groove and good playing by Davis who sort of skips and jumps around a tricky rhythm, while the slower take has some nice moments where Davis and a sax twist and wind around each other. Meanwhile “Theme From Jack Johnson/Intro” takes an older song and gives it an electronic, almost computer-ish groove. From the buzzing keyboards, the slashing guitars and the popping bass line, it sounds very 80s-funk. These are notable for being played live often (the Complete Miles Davis at Montreux box has some versions of these, for example) but none made it onto a studio album.
The demo of “Never Loved Like This” is an interesting outtake: it’s a ballad where Davis plays with minimal accompaniment. It works because it gives him space to play without getting lost in a clutter of instruments. At this point, Davis was playing a lot of slower tunes - for example “Human Nature” or “Time After Time” - and in a more relaxed setting, his playing really shines.
The disc ends with a full session of “Katia,” a song where Davis’s old guitarist John McLaughlin sits in with the band. It kicks in with a driving groove and McLaughlin’s slashing guitar lines, him running up and down his fretboard in short little bursts. Maybe it gave Davis a shot of energy: when he enters about three minutes into the tune, he sounds energetic, trading quick little licks with McLaughlin. It refutes any idea that Davis had slowed a step by the mid 80s.
Between the two discs of outtakes, not much leaps out as essential. “What's Love Got to Do With It,” for sure, and maybe “Santana” and the full take of “Katia.” But most of the material here is more for hardcore fans, the kind of listener who will sit down and compare the alternates to the master takes. Nothing wrong with that: it’s the same approach Columbia took on Freedom Jazz Dance, an earlier volume of this series. It just leaves more casual fans wanting.
That said, the third disc more than makes up for that. It’s a complete concert from July 7, 1983 at the St. Denis Theatre in Montreal, Canada. A couple excerpts from this show ended up on Decoy, but it’s presented in full here. With a tight band that includes Bill Evans on sax and electric piano, Scofield on guitar, Foster on drums, Darryl Jones on bass and percussionist Mino Cinelo, the band is red-hot right out of the gate. “Speak (That’s What Happened)” opens with a crash and Davis blasting notes over a driving funk rhythm before Evans steps up with a tasty sax solo.
The momentum keeps up through the early part of the show. “Star People” goes into a slower tempo, but it’s also a place where Davis blows some nice blues phrases and works around Scofield’s gentle guitar playing. The tempo kicks back up for “What It Is,” a song where Scofield gets to show off a bit over a driving rhythm. Indeed, on this live disc, Scofield gets to show his chops and plays both more energetically and interestingly than he gets to on the studio cuts. It’s not hard to see what Davis saw in him here.
Further highlights from the live disc: a nice percussion breakdown in “Hopscotch” and some nice playing on “Jean-Pierre,” especially when you can hear the audience getting worked up and clapping along with the band. It segues nicely into “Code 3” and it’s nice mid-tempo groove: Jones’ thumping bass, Foster pounding at the drums and Davis playing long synth chords while Evans blows his heart out and Scofield rips into a nice solo.
This set shows Davis’s live band as a well-oiled and slick group, one who were equally at home playing driving funk as they were slower, more ballad-ish tunes. True, it’s a world away from the scorched-Earth playing on his 70s live records, but it’s not exactly fair to compare this band to those: here he seems less focused on the groove and more on the melody, on drawing from popular tunes and catchy little riffs (“Jean-Pierre” for example). In some ways, it feels like a natural evolution since he’d gone maybe as far as he could have in one direction by 1975. And on the other, it’s a fun listen. Conveniently, it’s also available as a stand-alone double LP called What It Is: Montreal 7/7/83, although I think that might have been a limited-edition release.
All in all, That’s What Happened is a bit of a mixed bag. It’s a look into the making of a couple records - weirdly, The Man With the Horn and We Want Miles aren’t touched on with this release - and there are a couple of missed opportunities: parts other live shows were released on Star People and would’ve been welcome on this set, as would have been some of the other pop tunes that Davis recorded in early 1984. At the same time, it also shows him at work and that’s always interesting for hardcore fans, the kind who pour over bootlegs. And the live gig at the end of the set shows that even by 1983, Davis was still full of energy when the occasion demanded. That’s What Happened has a lot for hardcore fans, but if I’m being honest, I think tracking down the What It Is vinyl set is worth it for the more casual fans and the curious.