Billboard : 12/16/1957
Score of 80

Remastered, converted sessions cut in 1954, also including previously unissued takes. Valuable disk for modernist collectors, with outstanding solos by such as Davis, Milt Jackson, T. Monk, H. Silver and an earlier-day Sonny Rollins. Stimulating stuff, with good sound, and two tracks of well-known title opus. Must merchandise.

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New Yorker
Whitney Balliett : 05/17/1958

Almost everything about Miles Davis, the trumpeter, seems ambiguous. A short, thin, retiring man, now thirty-one years old, who often stands motionless and slightly hunched when he plays, his horn pointed directly at the floor, like a crane poised on an unpromising mud flat, he is generally considered a founder of cool jazz, but his associates invariably include some of the most perfervid members of the hard-bop movement. His playing sounds predominantly sweet and restrained, yet it conceals, much of the time, the basic hotness of men like Louis Armstrong and Roy Eldridge. Davis’s debut, some ten years ago, with such musicians as Charlie Parker and Max Roach, was wobbly. His approach consisted largely of an awkward blotting up of the work of Dizzy Gillespie. He had a shrill, mousy tone, he bungled more notes than not, and he always sounded as if he were playing in a monotone. Since then, his technique has improved steadily; his style, in fact, now comes in several shades. In slow numbers, he often uses a tight, resonant mute and, by playing directly into a microphone, achieves a hollow but penetrating sound, like blowing into the neck of an empty bottle. At the same time, he employs economical, melodic phrases spattered with a good many off notes, which give the effect of his casually twisting the melody—as if it were soft metal—into lumpy, yet graceful, shapes. Davis frequently plays open horn in middle tempos, and the change is startling. Although his tone is still slightly sour, series of fat, delicate phrases seem to round it off. They are reminiscent of a man slowly and rhythmically beating a soft punching bag. Fast numbers appear to unsettle him, for he often relies on a fretwork of empty runs and unsteady spurts into the upper register. But in a medium-tempo blues, say, Davis is capable of creating a pushing, middle-of-the-road lyricism that is a remarkable distillation rather than a one-two-three outlining of the melodic possibilities; indeed, what comes out of his horn miraulously seems the result of the instantaneous editing of a far more diffuse melodic line being carried on in his head.

Two recent releases—Relaxin’ with the Miles Davis Quintet and Bags’ Groove: Miles Davis and the Modern Jazz Giants (Prestige 7129 and 7109)—give a complete picture of Davis’s virtues and faults. In the first, which was made not long ago and is the less satisfactory of the two, he appears with John Coltrane on tenor saxophone, Red Garland on piano, Paul Chambers on bass, and Philly Joe Jones on drums. There are six numbers, four of them standard tunes and one apiece by Dizzy Gillespie and Sonny Rollins. Davis uses a mute in five of them. The materials seem almost to be shrugged off; there are occasional sketchy ensemble figures, but, more often, only a string of rather haphazard solos. The most impressive moments occur in If I Were a Bell, played at a pleasant up-tempo, and Oleo, done slightly faster, in which Davis gets a balsa quality by using just bass accompaniment, except in the bridge, during which the rest of the rhythm section tends to come galumphing in. Garland, a bright, dandyish pianist, also takes a surprisingly incisive solo in the lower register. You’re My Everything, which is slow-paced, is an excellent example of Davis the bottle blower; Woody’n You, delivered at a fast clip, displays his nervous, squeaky style. Coltrane, a student of Sonny Rollins, has a dry, unplanned tone that sets Davis off, like a rough mounting for a fine stone, while Jones, who has often performed as if he were single-handedly drumming out an entire regiment, behaves throughout with restraint and sensitivity.

Bags’ Groove, on the other hand, contains some of Davis’s most inspired work. The first side is given over to two versions of the title piece, a medium-tempo blues recorded late in 1954 with Milt Jackson on vibraphone, Thelonious Monk on piano, Percy Heath on bass, and Kenny Clarke on drums. In both versions, Davis’ solos, which are played open horn, have an oblique relentlessness and are full of neat, perfectly executed variations. Monk is superb. In the first version, his solo is broken by such long pauses that it appears he has left the studio; then he suddenly resumes, with clumps of clattering, offbeat dissonances. In the second version, his pressure up, he engages in a dizzy series of jagged runs. The rhythm section, in the manner of the old Basie rhythm section, moves without a bump. The second side has further clean, certain Davis, along with Rollins on tenor saxophone, Horace Silver on piano, Heath, and Clarke. This is an indispensable record.

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Oakland Tribune (Oakland, CA)
Russ Wilson : 12/08/1957

Some of Miles Davis’s finest work, recorded in 1954, is given a new twist. The present LP includes not only the original issues of the title tune and But Not for Me, but also an alternate take on each. There also are three other numbers. Miles’ associates in the two quintets included Milt Jackson, Thelonious Monk, Sonny Rollins, Horace Silver, Percy Heath and Kenny Clarke.

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San Bernardino County Sun
Jim Angelo : 01/11/1958

Reading like a Blue Book of contemporary music is the roster on Bags’ Groove. Just check this lineup: Miles Davis, trumpet; Milt Jackson, vibes; Sonny Rollins, tenor sax; Thelonoius Monk, piano; Percy Heath, bass; Kenny Clarke, drums – a potent mixture of top jazz veterans. Their performance on the title tune – which occupies all of side one – is a brilliant representation of their individual and collective prowess. Four originals and a stand on the flip side get mature, intelligent handling, the cohesiveness of the group being best demonstrated on Love Me Or Leave Me and Oleo. Most impressive work is that done by Davis and Jackson who stand out even in this star-studded crew. This is a prime example of crisp, clean-cut modern music.

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San Francisco Examiner
C.H. Garrigues : 01/12/1958

With the continued flow from the presses of excellent new-made jazz, the reviewer may be forgiven if he overlooks some of the oldies, released originally either on 78s or 10 inch LPs, and now being brought up to date on 12 inchers. Occasionally, however, there comes a reissue which cannot be overlooked. Here are four:

First, for the modern fan, Prestige’s reissue of two of the most famous recording sessions in modern jazz: the December 24, 1954 date on which Milt Jackson recorded his famous Bags’ Groove – one of the all time great jazz standards – and the June 29, 1954 session on which the Airegin set was recorded. On the first date were, of course, Jackson, Miles Davis, Monk, Percy Heath and Clarke and this side has been expanded by the inclusion of an exceedingly interesting second take of the Groove. On the Airegin side are Davis, Sonny Rollins, Horace Silver, Heath and Clarke; this side is expanded with a second take of But Not For Me. The LP is entitled Bags Groove and is a “must” for modern fans.

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San Francisco Examiner
C.H. Garrigues : 10/26/1958

One of the most interesting developments in jazz during the last year has been the emergence of Thelonious Monk as the dominant pianist of the year – a development which, I suspect, was due less to an improvement in Monk than to the development of a generation of jazzmen capable of playing with him.

Until recently, musicians have praised him, had admired him – and have gone to whatever lengths necessary (with some few exceptions) to keep off the platform with him. (There was, for example, the occasion in 1954 when, on a record date, Miles Davis asked him to “lay out” on Miles’ choruses of Bags’ Groove; Monk complied and then, in his own chorus, proceeded to cut Miles as thoroughly as one could wish. (This is on Prestige 7109, a reissue.)

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Liner Notes by Ira Gitler

Miles Davis and the Modern Jazz Giants make a formidable team, enjoyed equally by fans in New York and San Francisco as well as countless places in between and beyond.

The team itself is a potent mixture of the top modern jazz veterans of the forties and fifties and more recently established starts of the fifties.

Although modern jazz has only been with us since the early forties, the standouts of the era are already clearly indicated and I doubt whether further jazz history will dull their lustre. A great jazz performance is always within a certain tradition and a timeless thing regardless of the era in which it was played. Some critics of jazz say that it may well be a transient thing and that we must wait centuries to see if it survives with a validity like Bach and Beethoven have in their idiom. Without going into why I would disagree with this, I would say that the new two centuries are likely to move twice as quickly, in terms of cultural evolution, as the two centuries which preceded them and the position of all music, as we know it, may be very different than its present one. All we can draw from in judging the relative merits of a jazz performance, is our listening experience within the idiom. Louis Armstrong’s recorded solos of thirty years ago are pure and powerful statements today and, for the same reasons, Miles Davis’ of three years ago will be meaningful thirty years hence.

The Giants, here, present two different line-ups. Both included the expert rhythm combination of Percy Heath and Kenny Clarke who, at this time, were co-members of the Modern Jazz Quartet. Many Prestige sessions benefited from their complementary accompaniment.

Bags’ Groove is Milt Jackson’s minor blues which has become a jazz standard at an early age through recordings by Milt himself, Jay & Kai, Bob Cooper and Bud Shank, Bud Powell, Mat Matthews, Jack Millman, Virgil Gonsalves and Milt again with the Modern Jazz Quartet. Here it is presented in two takes, only one of which was issued before. The take that I describe is the latter as the other will be as new to me as it is to you when I hear LP 7109.

Miles is the first soloist with Percy and Kenny backing him. This is the session where Miles asked Monk to lay out during his (Miles) choruses. Monk, who comes to play, although he had practiced the idea of laying out himself long before this session, was insulted by the request. After Miles’ beautifully logical solo, Milt plays a forceful declarative one as Monk “comps”, timidly at first, for him. Thelonious’ solo follows and he tosses rhythmic figures around like someone bouncing a rubber ball off a wall, but drops out again as Miles re-emerges to sum up in a model solo.

The session of June 29, 1954 found Heath, Clarke and Davis joined by Sonny Rollins and Horace Silver, two of the brightest and influential talents to emerge in the fifties. These were the first Davis-Rollins recordings since 1951 (Dig, Paper Moon on Prestige LP 7012) and include three Rollins originals that have been much played by Davis’ quintet and other groups in the next three years. Shelly Manne has recorded Doxy; Phil Woods and Gene Quill use it as their theme.

Airegin is not a purified alcoholic beverage; it refers to a country in Africa (spell it backwards). Miles and Sonny state the minor key theme against bass and drums backing. Horace enters to “comp” for soloists Davis and Rollins who each blow three thoughtful, swinging choruses. It is interesting to compare this version with the one later recorded by Miles and John Coltrane (Prestige LP 7094).

Oleo is spiritually reminiscent of some of the things that Charlie Parker and Miles used to do together but the form of the accompaniment is a varied one. The theme is stated by Miles and Sonny with only Percy supporting them except on the bridge where Kenny and Horace join in.

Miles opens the soloing with a puckish, muted bit in front of bass and drums. Horace is in evidence only on the bridge and this pattern is followed in Sonny’s choruses. After Horace’s solo, Miles returns for another stint with Percy backing him and the full rhythm section heard again, only on the bridge. Kenny stays aboard for the last eight bars and then the line is played in the same manner as it was in the opening chorus.

George Gershwin’s But Not For Me is swung medium and firmly without neglecting the feeling of romantic sadness. Two solos by Miles sandwich the improvisation of Rollins and Silver. There are two takes presented here. As in the case of Bags’ Groove, my description is of the one originally issued.

Doxy, according to the dictionary, can be an option or a mistress. From the “funky” character of the piece, I would take it to be an opinion of a mistress. Miles, Sonny and Horace know the “chick” quite well and she’s down to earth it seems. This is the type of number that critics called “thin thematic material” or some other such hogwash because they have no “funk” on their shoes. The essence of jazz stares them in the face and they can’t see it.

This album is indicative of the prowess of Miles Davis and the rest of the Modern Jazz Giants; a collection of their best for 1954. If you remember, 1954 was a very good year for Giants.