Tribute To Jack Johnson, A - Miles Davis

...seventies.

'A Tribute to Jack Johnson' however is Davis at one with his material, interviews reveal this to be a project Davis dug, really dug. A longtime fan of boxing, and constant visitor to the ring to keep fit (relatively speaking for a cocaine addict with shot hips), in Jack Johnson Davis spotted a kindred spirit. The album was the soundtrack to a documentary about the legendary heavyweight. Johnson was THE great black hope in ...
...all of his opponents, and lived life in the fastest of the fast lanes. Cars, women, fine clothes, newspaper headlines, and a nation that baulked as a negro stood at the pinnacle of his profession. There was an awful lot for Miles to identify with.

The energy on this record is palpable. A tangible electricity flows through the 2 tracks that make up the standard edition release. Davis was never just Davis though, in the early days of ... more

Post 'Bitches Brew', amid the slow disintegration of the second great quintet, at a time when Columbia didn't know or even care how they marketed Miles, Davis produced this pearler. 'On the Corner' would follow, a series of mishandled live albums, and then ill health combined with his ongoing cocaine addiction would see Davis disappear for the greater part of the seventies.

'A Tribute to Jack Johnson' however is Davis at one with his material, interviews reveal this to be a project Davis dug, really dug. A longtime fan of boxing, and constant visitor to the ring to keep fit (relatively speaking for a cocaine addict with shot hips), in Jack Johnson Davis spotted a kindred spirit. The album was the soundtrack to a documentary about the legendary heavyweight. Johnson was THE great black hope in the early 20th century, an African American boxer who destroyed all of his opponents, and lived life in the fastest of the fast lanes. Cars, women, fine clothes, newspaper headlines, and a nation that baulked as a negro stood at the pinnacle of his profession. There was an awful lot for Miles to identify with.

The energy on this record is palpable. A tangible electricity flows through the 2 tracks that make up the standard edition release. Davis was never just Davis though, in the early days of be-bop he was in the shadows of Charlie 'Yardbird' Parker, with the birth of cool jazz it was Davis and Gil Evans and his quintet with Coltrane, Bill Evans, 'Cannonball' Adderley, Paul Chambers and Jimmy Cobb. Later came the groundbreaking quintet sitting alongside Herbie Hancock, Tony Williams, Ron Carter, Wayne Shorter and perhaps most importantly of all, in the producer's booth, the mercurial Teo Macero.

Like 'In a Silent Way' and the albums that followed, '...Jack Johnson' is as every bit Macero's record as it is Davis'. Painstakingly assembled from numerous sessions and takes, some stretching back to 'Silent Way', Macero built the tracks up. The opener 'Right Off' clocks in at an epic 28 minutes, spot the joins...I dare you. It's not like you're going to have the time anyway. Out went sublime jazz bassists Dave Holland, Jack DeJohnette, and in came the funk of the young prodigy Michael Henderson. No walking basslines filling in the quiet bits here, instead a pounding, ribcage rattling funk that sticks you on the ropes and has you looking to the trainer in the corner, praying he'll throw in the towel.

British guitarist John McLaughlin perfectly demonstrates why he is THE British guitarist, letting off volley after volley of musical pyrotechnics, bruising hooks, subtle fades and intricate combinations. The cliches WILL keep coming I warn you. Herbie Hancock returns to the fold on organ, tight and compact, taking the blows from the rest of the band, biding his time before exploding into life, while all the time Steve Grossman on soprano sax weaves in and out of the action, floating like a butterfly and...well, you know the rest....

Hendrix drummer Billy Miles should have been on this record. He isn't. He didn't show for the sessions, and so at the last minute, in came power drummer Billy Cobham. Cobham doesn't do subtle, perfect for this showboating taunting bruiser of a disc.

Miles? He's there alright, hunched in the darkness, back to everyone, just waiting, counting down, deciding when he's going to take the track back, wrenching it from the band with licks that display a newfound conviction in his playng. Dynamically exploring a full range, Davis batters 'Right Off' into a bloody pulp. Poetic? No. Powerful, awe-inspiring, pretty damned blistering? Yeah.

Turn the record over and 'Yesternow' is everything 'Right Off' isn't. Introspective, frequently fragile and frail, searching and probing, leading to an angry rant on 11 minutes, before subsiding into a dreamlike lull. Hancock provides a background of swirling electronic keyboards, while Grossman and Davis tentatively jab, and then driven by Hendersons bass and Cobham's drumming we get a bluesy swagger that Macero coats in a grimey, sweaty distortion. After 26 minutes, it stops, retreating back into the dark corners of the ring, and a voice acting as Johnson, tells us, and let us be in no doubt, 'I'm black, and never let me forget it...' and much like Davis might, adds 'and never let them forget it'.

If this were a fight, it wouldn't have got past the third round, and it would've had you down in the first for sure. A couple of standing counts, and then, you ain't getting up no more.

At the same time, this is one of many neglected Davis recordings, and it's for sure that the dinner party set who like 'Kind of Blue' (except for the fiddly Coltrane bits) don't own it. God alone knows what you'd call it, jazz, jazz fusion, jazz rock, rock, funk rock, I'm damned if I can tell you. I do know that it 'rocks' though, and I'd give up food for this funk.

The Columbia release of this disc keeps peace with Davis and has his figure on the cover, bent back looking every part the boxer, and placing his name above that of Johnsons. It's backed with an amalgam of the original cover and a later edition. An illustration of Johnson, in a fast car with (presumably) fast women in the back seats. Originally Davis' name sat below that of Johnson, so other than the fact he hated the cover and his billing, Miles loved it.

Inside are new notes on the recording of the album. Very interesting, humourous, and far more entertaining than my review, and they sit between the covers and the original reverse of the 1970 vinyl release. It's good. For £7.99 it's great. Nicely designed, but letting the music on the disc do the talking.

For more pounds, you can grab the super heavyweight 5 disc edition that contains all of the 'Jack Johnson' sessions. I've yet to afford that. It's only a matter of time though. 

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