As a relatively new convert to the deeper work of Miles Davis, the two albums that I must credit for putting me over the hump, so to speak, were the pivotal live albums Agharta (1975) and Pangea (1976).
Agharta, itself, is an explosive 97-minute daytime performance that saw Miles and his band electrify the house and tore the roof off the dump, as they say.
While Pangaea falls just short of the 90-minute mark, it has long been criticized for Miles' absence from much of it due to exhaustion from the first set, but, to our ears anyway, giving his band the same opportunity to shine as they had given him during the day's first performance.
Okay, that's the best spin I can put on what is easily the most gassed performance I've ever heard that didn't involve Axl Rose and some fake-ass Guns & Roses.
For that reason, and that reason alone, I just had to hear Pangaea first.
After all, if you can't rummage for moments of inspiration in a gig that should have been called on account of "Miles is still trying to catch his breath from the first gig", then, what's the fun being a Miles Davis fan at all?
I like to think that fans who stayed for both shows and got to see both sides of Miles left happy to have been granted such a full-on glimpse into the physical toll it takes to be a fucking genius every time you hit the stage and how Davis and band delivered a late set that, at its best, separated the real fans from the "wine and cheese" crowd who came to hear "Smoke Gets In Your Eyes" and, at its worst, seemed almost driven to test the boundaries of just how little Miles Davis could be a part of his own performance.
Agharta, by comparison, is a taut, funky, menacing set that is unrelenting in its sublime pursuit of the seemingly unattainable. Amazingly, Davis and the band lock in early and each second is like watching a Polaroid picture develop before your eyes.
In a perfect world, Agharta would be issued to all college freshmen with a bag of weed and best wishes for a fruitful journey into self discovery.
Tags:
miles and miles