Billboard : 09/22/1958

This is one of Miles Davis’ best to date. In addition to Davis’ fine tone and talent the package spotlights excellent group and solo work on the part of the other members of his sextet. Most of the six tracks are done in a fairly brisk tempo. Milestones, the album title tune, is enough to sell the album. Good cover shot of Davis should hype sales. Personnel includes J. Adderley, alto sax; J. Coltrane, tenor sax; P. Chambers, bass; R. Garland, piano and “Philly” Joe Jones, drums.

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Cashbox : 09/27/1958

Like the two previous issues by the trumpeter on Columbia, the waxing is bound for strong acceptance from jazz traffic. Davis heads an expert sextet (the others: Julian “Cannonball” Adderley, John Coltrane, Red Garland, “Philly” Joe Jones, and Paul Chambers), and when he takes a short recess from slickly creative features, the boys on support can take over with style. Five jazz originals and one perennial (Billy Boy).

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American Record Guide
Joe Goldberg : February, 1959

Jazz evolves at such a rapid rate that Miles Davis, now in his early thirties, can stand at the head of an extremely influential school of musicians. Only ten years ago he was a disciple of Charlie Parker, and played with only slight hints of ever sounding like anything but a Dizzy Gillespie carbon. Today he stands in the same relation to the young musician as Lee Strasberg does to the young actor, the difference being that Miles is himself a consummate performer. The same is true, perhaps to an even greater degree, of Thelonious Monk, whose influence works in more subtle ways and should be the subject of a separate discussion sometime. Over the years, Miles has evolved an instantly identifiable style, consisting for the most part of middle-register muted trumpet played with an extreme economy of notes. Unlike many musicians, his concept extends not only to himself, but also to his group. The two newest examples of this concept are Milestones, (Columbia CL-1193, $3.98), and Somethin’ Else (Blue Note 1595, $4.98).

The first employs Miles’ recent sextet (pianist Red Garland has since been replaced by Bill Evans). The second is a quintet under the nominal leadership of altoist Cannonball Adderley. Adderley is a member of Miles’ group, and though Davis is listed as a sideman his personality pervades the record from its opening notes. Both are suffused with the light, open, dancing rhythms for which Davis says he is indebted to Ahmad Jamal: “All my inspiration today comes from Ahmad Jamal, the Chicago pianist.” This and similar statements have led many to credit Jamal with a stature which I do not feel he deserves. That Davis is able to derive valuable ideas from Jamal’s music does not make Jamal Davis’ peer. Most artists borrow, and the proof of their artistry lies partially in the fact that what they borrow they invariably enrich.

It is always interesting to follow the progress of a soloist who has joined a Miles Davis group. Cannonball Adderley came up from Florida about four years ago, possessed of a prodigious technique and an encyclopedic memory of Charlie Parker phrases. Miles delights in setting off his oblique style against that of a searing, forceful tenor player. For a long time, that tenor was Sonny Rollins, and after that the even more biting John Coltrane. Adderley became a member of the group while Coltrane was with the Thelonious Monk quartet. When Monk’s groups disbanded last fall, Coltrane returned to swell the group to sextet size. Adderley has learned much from both Coltrane and Davis. On the Milestones album—the tune is Monk’s blues Straight, No Chaser—he plays a startling phrase. He takes a quote that Charlie Parker used often, plays it as Parker did, but ends it as Coltrane would! Probably unintentional, this is nevertheless a perfect statement of his present evolutional position. The three horns in this group have excellent rapport. Each generally finishes his solo in the style of the next man to play, giving the performances a wonderful continuity and giving the next man an easy springboard. Davis’ calm, orderly playing, set off between the rush of his partners, lends added value to all three. The Blue Note record, it must be said, is by far the better of the two, but there is little to discuss in it. It is simply Miles Davis music, beautifully played.

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Hartford Courant (Hartford, CT)
Jack Bishop : 10/26/1958

For tonal beauty in modern jazz playing, few can exceed Miles Davis on trumpet. Amid all his exploring of inroads of jazz these days, Miles has ‘taken five’ to record a new Columbia LP titled, Milestones. It’s a lot of creative stuff on the boppish kick but fortunately we hear too little solo work from the album’s star, Miles. There are six tunes on the album and the lone number familiar is Two Bass Hit. But Miles definitely has something going here.

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HiFi / Stereo Review
Ralph J. Gleason : January, 1959

Musical Interest: The very best jazz
Performance: Flawless
Recording: Excellent

No small group since the Armstrong Hot Five has had such a far-reaching effect on jazz musicians and fans as the Miles Davis Quintet. Now Julian “Cannonball” Adderley, a superbly swinging alto saxophonist, has been added and the original group has taken on a new dimension without losing any of its former greatness.

This group has worked so closely together that it is as if the musicians read each other’s minds. Their music is highly complicated but still retains space for improvisation of the most individual type and for intense personal statements.

It is quite rewarding to listen to this album once for each of the performers, concentrating on him alone one time through. Do this with the drummer, Philly Joe Jones, and it is an education in percussion playing; do it once for the piano and once for the bass and it is an eye and ear opening experience. Then listen to the rhythm section—as a section—and hear how they interact, supplement, complement each other and meld together. It is absolutely fascinating. All this takes place behind exciting solos by Cannonball and John Coltrane and some exquisitely wispy Miles Davis trumpet lines which occasionally reach back to When the Saints Go Marching In or acidly quote Chattanooga Shoe Shine Boy.

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High Fidelity
John S. Wilson : November, 1958

On this disc, Miles Davis sheds his past diffidence to play warm, firmly formed, assertive lines with all the lyricism his admirers have long claimed for him. One hears in his solos here reflections of his recent work with Gil Evans, a well-defined singing quality that Davis sustains and fills out in all but one very fast number. And even here his charging attack has force and accuracy. His group includes Julian Adderley, alto saxophone, and John Coltrane, tenor saxophone, who help Davis create some sparkling ensemble passages but whose solos, in contrast to Davis’ own, are relatively empty.

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Jazz / Jazz & Pop
Peter Turley : June, 1963
A review of the first track on side two, originally called Milestones and then Miles on reissues

“Most jazz compositions have no content at all,” a well-known critic wrote not too long ago. I don’t know precisely what this means, because content is one of those words—like ‘natural’ and ‘genius’—that people are apt to use more to shore up personal preferences than to bring about genuine enlightenment. But it is interesting all the same, because it raises once again a trail of familiar questions. What makes a good jazz composition? Why do jazzmen like to play some tunes rather than others? Are the results of a jazz performance, from the listener’s point of view, favorable in direct proportion to the degree of musical comfort experienced by the musicians?

It is often claimed that the best jazz is produced when the musicians are playing familiar material (which, more often than not, means the blues) in familiar circumstances, but while these conditions can make for good jazz, they don’t always make for good music; certainly they seldom encourage genuine creativity. Isn’t it reasonable to assume that if there is no challenge in the composition itself, the task of invention becomes immensely difficult? The musician is being asked, in effect, to travel an over-familiar path—yet, if possible, to do it in a completely new way. Since, in the majority of cases, this just isn’t possible, it is small wonder that so many recorded jazz performances sound depressingly alike. Of course, over-familiarity with one’s material isn’t the only cause of this particular malady, but it may well be a considerable contributing factor. The jazz revolution of the early ‘forties was fed, to a large extent, by new and essentially different material, so that musicians who had been producing the commonplace when using commonplace themes began to break new ground when they turned to Cherokee and Nice Work if You Can Get It and How High the Moon.

Although very simple in construction, Miles (Columbia CL 1193) is an attractive, distinctly durable composition which grabs the attention of the listener from the start. It is built around three consecutive notes which are played, for the most part, in a staccato, on-the-beat manner. The way I hear it, the mode of playing here is very close to the essence of jazz, because it is in the way that the theme is played that most of its appeal lies; syncopation, swing, and the particular rhythmic emphasis of the horns—all these are used to build and fill-out the composition.

The sixteen-bar release is melodically a very strong legato line which corresponds in general construction to the main theme—in fact it could quite possibly function as counterpoint to it, although, knowing nothing about counterpoint, I couldn’t say this with any certainty. At any rate, the complete tune is very powerful in that, despite its simplicity, it seems to exercise a good deal of control over the soloists, and practically forces them to play creatively. (Another tune which works in a somewhat similar way is the Delilah heard on one of Clifford Brown’s old EmArcy albums, and the fact that this was written for a DeMille movie doesn’t necessarily mean that it is kitsch, as one reviewer recently called it. The source, surely, is irrelevant. It’s the substance that counts, and Delilah has it.) This is emphasized by the way in which Red Garland plays the theme all the way through the performance without substantially departing from it at any time. The effect of this is so arresting that whenever the release comes around, the listener almost seems to hear the piano first and the soloist second, so that the thematic relevance of what the soloist is saying is thrown into sharp relief.

The question of what happened to ‘breaks’ in modern jazz seems to be cropping up more and more lately. This record illustrates how effective they can still be—even when used in a restrained and rather oblique manner. During the middle sixteen bars, although the drummer (Philly Joe Jones) maintains his regular beat—that is, the beat he was playing during the theme-statement—the bass (Paul Chambers) switches to a kind of slurred two-beat which has the effect of a brake being turned on and off in the rhythm section; it also changes the overall shape of the beat to an almost waltz-like, lilting pattern. At the end of the release, when the bass returns to the standard four, the effect is basically the same as at the end of a break, and both soloists (I hope) and listener get that same feeling of resurgence. Whether intentional or not, the cumulative effect of the eight ‘breaks’ here is to relax the tempo, and at the end of the performance the group is playing at a much slower pace.

I’ve no means of knowing for sure, of course, but I suspect that of the three soloists here (Red Garland just plays accompaniment), only Miles was genuinely sympathetic with the composition. Cannonball seems to be making a determined effort to come to terms with it, and he does succeed a lot of the time. His first ten bars are truly magnificent—a closely-knit combination of sadness and driving excitement. The sadness, I’m almost convinced, could [MISSING TEXT] squarely on top of it—uncompromisingly stifling and unattractive.

I’ve often wondered what people meant when they talked about the humor in jazz. “There’s a lot of humor in Monk’s playing,” someone told me once, but he didn’t say why, or in relation to what. I think I may be beginning to get the idea, though. The way Miles plays the release during the theme statement—the way he spaces the notes, delaying some, hurrying others—does seem to have something humorous about it. At any rate, there’s the suggestion of a wry smile. It’s almost as though Miles, aware of the intense beauty of the melody, wasn’t content simply to play it straight all the time, and had to twist and re-shape it just a little, as if by tentatively beginning to destroy it he could make it all the more real. Maybe this is altogether too fanciful, and if so, forget it. Do listen to the record, though.

[Miles is the label title on later issues; the first listed this track as Milestones, and the liner note still does. Apparently the tune should be called Sid’s Ahead, but since another track on the same record has been given this title, I’ve used Miles throughout in an attempt to avoid confusion.—PT]

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Jazz Journal
Kennedy Brown : May, 1959

The Miles Davis Quintet is augmented by Julian “Cannonball” Adderley on alto sax for this album and although I find it less satisfying than the Quintet’s previous Cookin’, Relaxin’ and ‘Round About Midnight sets it is nevertheless a satisfying record.

I prefer the earlier records simply because I have never been an admirer of the Parker-influenced Cannonball. But that’s a purely personal view.

I must admit I’ve never heard him play as he does here. He has more warmth and (no doubt inspired by the company) contributes some fluent and free-swinging improvisations, particularly with tenor player Coltrane in Dr. Jekyll.

For the rest, my praise is unqualified.

Miles himself, is on his very best form, playing intricate, delicate solos that effectively build up to beautiful climaxes. His ideas are exquisitely conceived, he is wonderfully relaxed, melodic and mellow. Whatever the man plays he does it with intelligence, originality—and in the very best of taste.

Coltrane continues to improve. His tone is less strident, his playing more melodic. He has become a highly individual voice and a major figure in Jazz.

Pianist Garland is excellent all through and Billy Boy, a solo feature with bass and drums accompaniment, is perhaps his best work to date on record, swinging lightly and sensitively all the way.

Philly Joe and Chambers, working perfectly as a team, are magnificent in support. Philly used to be one of the loudest drummers in the business but here he is restrained, laying down a crisp and pulsating rhythm. Chambers has a bowed solo on Billy Boy that is a masterpiece.

All six musicians play with tremendous cohesion. Undoubtedly, this is one of the modern jazz records of the year—and if you like Cannonball you may think it is THE one.

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Jazz Review
Benny Golson : January, 1959

Side 1: Dr. Jekyl, while not especially melodic, gives the group an excellent opportunity to “stretch out.” The eights and fours between Miles and Philly Joe Jones are fiery and invigorating. Paul Chambers, in spite of the fast tempo, takes a soulful solo. The exchange of choruses between Coltrane and Cannonball is the high point of the track, and the rhythm section is very stable throughout.

Sid’s Ahead is, in reality, the old, and now classic, Walkin’. During his solo, Coltrane is very clever and creative in his handling of the substitute chords. Miles strolls (without piano) beautifully. He is a true musical conversationalist. Cannonball is quite “funky” at times, and Chambers exemplifies his ability to create solo lines in the manner of a trumpeter or saxophonist.

The third track, Two Bass Hit, opens with everyone on fire—particularly Philly, whose punctuation and attack are as sharp as a knife. Coltrane enters into his solo moaning, screaming, squeezing, and seemingly projecting his very soul through the bell of his horn. I feel that this man is definitely blazing a new musical trail. Philly and Red Garland back the soloists like a brass section, an effect which always creates excitement.

Side 2: The theme of Milestones is unusual, but surprisingly pleasant—particularly the bridge where Miles answers the other horns, achieving an echo effect. Philly’s use of sticks on the fourth beat of every bar is quite tasteful. Cannonball cleverly interweaves melodies around the changes. Miles is as graceful as a swan, and Coltrane is, as usual, full of surprises.

Red Garland, who is undoubtedly one of today’s great pianists, is spotlighted in Billy Boy with Philly and Paul. The arrangement is tightly knit and well played. Red employs his block chord technique on this track and plays a beautiful single line, as well. Philly and Paul do a wonderful job, both soloing and in the section.

Straight No Chaser is a revival of a Thelonious Monk composition of a few years ago—the spasmatic harmony makes it quite interesting. Cannonball is excellent on this track. I may be wrong, but he seems to have been influenced somewhat by Coltrane. Miles paints a beautiful picture, as surely as with an artist’s brush. He has a sound psychological approach in that he never plays too much. He leaves me, always, wanting to hear more.

I have heard no one, lately, who creates like Coltrane. On this track, he is almost savage in his apparent desire to play his horn thoroughly.

Red plays a single line solo with his left hand accompanying off the beat. He closes the solo with a beautiful harmonization of Miles’ original solo on Now’s The Time. Here, Philly goes into a subtle 1-2-3-4 beat on the snare drum behind Red’s solo, setting it off perfectly. This is the best track of the album.

In closing, I’d like to say—keep one eye on the world and the other on John Coltrane.

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Miami Herald (Miami, FL)
Fred Sherman : 10/19/1958

The man at Columbia who makes up titles for long-play albums came up with an eye catcher for a session by Miles Davis. It’s called Milestones (CL-1193). Only trouble is some folks might think this is some kind of collection of things gone by or some sort of “in memorium” set.

It’s far from it. This is jazz of today and tomorrow. Davis, a young and imaginative trumpet player, is waxing hot here with a sextet. His pearly sounding horn is blended with double sax; the tenor of John Coltrane and the alto of Julian Cannonball Adderley. The rhythm is by Red Garland, Paul Chambers and Philly Joe Jones.

This program of five originals plus a modern Billy Boy is not jazz to read by, mow the lawn by or dine by candlelight by. It’s glistening listening jazz. Stunning solos are heaped into this package by the many dozens. Chambers bows the bass in a manner that will take you back to the Tatum-Slam Stewart days.

If you test spin the album at the store, taste first Davis’ own Sid’s Ahead. It’s a tour de force for all concerned.

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San Francisco Chronicle (San Francisco, CA)
Ralph J. Gleason : 09/25/1958

While numerous big bands have had an important role in the history of jazz, only a few small groups have played an equal part as innovators and style-setters.

Miles Davis, the small, neat little trumpet player with the sad, almost bitter expression, has been the leader of two of these. With the possible exception of the Louis Armstrong Hot Five and the Benny Goodman Trio, the two Davis groups—the Nonet that recorded for Capitol in 1948 and the quintet that has played and recorded together for the past two years—have been the most important small groups in jazz history.

Davis’ series of LPs during the past two years for Prestige and Columbia have been among the best recordings in a decade and will continue to rank, I believe, among the top jazz recordings of all time.

The most recent Davis LP, Milestones (Columbia CL 1193), is the original Davis Quintet (John Coltrane, tenor; Red Garland, piano; Paul Chambers, bass; Philly Joe Jones, drums; Davis, trumpet) plus Julian “Cannonball” Adderley on alto sax. This group worked together most of the last year and while it has a slightly different character because of the addition of the new horn, it is still cast from the same mold as the previous group.

The basic quality here is an intricate melodic and rhythmic concept in which each of the instruments duets with the rhythm section in turn and in which the rhythm instruments themselves, including the drums, switch back and forth from duties that are strictly rhythmic to those that are melodic. All of their records, and the new one is no exception, contain drum solos and breaks which are duets with the other horns and are phrased as a horn phrases. There is a superior brand of interaction between all members of the group. The rhythm section (Garland, Chambers and Jones) is easily the greatest rhythm section since Count Basie’s combination of Walter Page, Joe Jones and Freddy Greene. They are remarkable. If you listen to them one at a time, as you watch a prize fight by concentrating on each man in turn, you will find the rhythmic interplay extraordinarily subtle and continually exciting.

In Milestones, there are many moments of high emotional intensity and great fascination. Among my favorites are the way in which Cannonball sounds like a more robust Paul Desmond on Milestones; Miles quoting first Chattanooga Shoeshine Boy and then The Saints on Straight, No Chaser; Chambers’ walking bass behind Miles on Sid’s Ahead; Chambers’ solo, Jones’ drumming, and Garland’s chord feeding on the same tune. There are six tracks; one of them, Billy Boy, is by the rhythm section alone and is a striking argument for the claim that this trio is without peer today. The album is excellently recorded and Miles is consistently wailing throughout, as is John Coltrane.

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San Francisco Chronicle (San Francisco, CA)
Ralph J. Gleason : 10/26/1958
Cannonball Is More Than Another Alto Cast in the Parker Mold

Ever since the death of Charlie Parker, it has been evident that players of the alto saxophone faced a vital problem.

The Parker style on the alto, just as the Lester Young style on tenor sax, was so obviously one of the right ways to play—if not THE right way to play—modern jazz that in order to achieve any individuality the musician had to be uncommonly gifted. That such men as Lee Konitz and Paul Desmond did achieve individuality on the alto is to their credit. That such men as Charlie Mariano, Sonny Stitt, and others remained more Parker than themselves is to be regretted.

However, during the past year a new force has emerged on the alto saxophone. It is Julian (Cannonball) Adderley, the young Tampa, FL, soloist who has been playing this year with Miles Davis.

Adderley had his own group shortly after his debut on the New York jazz scene three years ago. It was a fine group, and with it, and on his own, he recorded a series of LPs which indicated that he was something more than another alto cast in the Parker mold. True, he played the Parker style, but he brought to it his own explosive personality, a warm gushing, driving beat and a beautiful sense of form and irresistible swing.

This year, two albums by Cannonball indicate that he has now extended himself beyond this frame to become the first fully original voice on alto since Parker. The first of these LPs was the recent Milestones LP (Columbia) with Miles Davis and the group. The second has just been released. It is Somethin’ Else (Blue Note 1595). On it, Adderley is accompanied by Miles Davis, Art Blakey, Hank Jones and Sam Jones, making a most homogenous quintet. There are five tracks, on one of which Cannonball does all the solo horn work and Davis is not present.

The team of Davis and Adderley, I firmly believe, is one that will make jazz history. They have the same essential ties to lyricism and melody and they are both deeply rooted in the blues. To complement Davis’ fragile, almost wispy approach, there is Cannonball’s sturdy, full-blown swing. It is quite interesting to hear them in the series of echoes and responses that are used in the title song and also to observe the manner in which they embroider the haunting melody of Autumn Leaves.

Parenthetically, it is also interesting to note that Art Blakey, who has been the most annoying of drummers in many of his appearances in recent years and certainly the ruination of more other drummers than any single human force is, on this album, a model of restraint and good taste. This may indicate something concerning the opinion of the other dates he has worked on.

To none of the tracks on this album does the group bring the sort of involved jazz writing that has characterized the West Coast jazz dates of recent vintage. Nevertheless, the same indication of classical harmonic orientation and full utilization of musical devices is present. It is a question of how it is done.

Here, in a further step of the development of the Davis style of small group playing, the performance of such a strong musical personality as Cannonball is directed by the way in which Davis plays. It is not that he crowds Cannonball, but that he leads him and occupies certain territory, limiting the choice that is left to the other soloist.

In the hands of a master of improvisation such as Davis, this is an excellent idea and makes Cannonball extend himself. The same principle, applied to rhythm by Blakey on other occasions, is totally obnoxious.

This is one of the best of the year’s albums; a very fine indication of what lies in store for us in modern jazz and an album that is certain to be of lasting value.

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Sydney Morning Herald (Sydney, AU)
By Downbeat : 02/07/1960

The new Miles Davis recording, Milestones (Coronet KEP 221), is a fine example of modern jazz.

It is incorrect to describe either side of this E.P. as cool, a term usually used on Davis, for the performances are as hot as anything in jazz, from Luis Russell onwards.

Beginning with a wistful theme, Milestones warms up to lyrical and expressive choruses by Davis on trumpet, John Coltrane (tenor sax) and K. Adderley on bass.

Red Garland’s piano provides a melodic drive, with timely restatements of the theme. Adderley’s alto sax is almost a match for Davis. Bassist Paul Chambers and Philly Joe Jones are heard in solo spots on the fast, boppish reverse of the disc, Dr. Jekyll.

An excellent jazz record, but two questions for Coronet—first, why is there no personal or studio date information on either the recording or the jacket, and, secondly, where is the rest of the 12-inch L.P. from which these performances were distilled?

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Sydney Morning Herald (Sydney, AU)
By Downbeat : 04/02/1961
A review of Coronet KLP 904

Jazz Track, an LP by the American trumpeter Miles Davis, is an outstanding example of heights to which modern jazz can rise.

He can take simple subject matter like the ballad Stella by Starlight and invest it with a lyricism and sadness of unique quality.

I can liken it only to the greatest performances by the dead blues singer Billie Holiday.

The Davis spirit also pervades the performances of tenor sax player John Coltrane, whose playing seems to be a restatement of the Davis approach.

On the other hand, alto saxophone player Julian Adderley’s hard style, bop rich in rhythmic accents, is a perfect foil for the nobility of the Davis trumpet.

The LP is a compilation of material from two LPs issued in America. Actually the Jazz Track of the title does not appear. The Australian rights to it are owned by another record company.

To make up for this, Coronet has included the unreleased half of the original American LP Milestones.

The three main performers on the LP, Davis, Adderley and Coltrane, were all voted into top places in an important jazz popularity poll held in America at the end of last year.

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Toronto Star (Toronto, ON)
Roger Feather : 11/29/1958
Four stars

Davis and the other men here have made a great many recent recordings both collectively and with other groups. There is really very little new to be said about them except that, although this is a very good LP, on occasions it falls below their usual standards. Davis, particularly on a couple of tunes, is excellent and the rhythm section is superb throughout. It is the horns of Coltrane and Adderley which are mainly responsible for the lowered rating.

There is a noticeable difference between Adderley’s work on this album (recorded about a year ago) and various more recent albums (Somethin’ Else with Davis, Old Bottles New Wine with Gil Evans and Brooks’ Alabama Concerto, all recorded last summer). His work on the latter LPs is much more assured and articulate.

There are six tunes here. The rapid Dr. Jekyll has some good Davis but on the whole it is very ragged. The bluesy Sid’s Ahead has a very good lyrical, sparse Davis solo and some fine plucked Chambers. Two Bass Hit features controlled, expressive work by Jones and Billy Boy, by the trio, has some forceful Garland. Monk’s Straight, No Chaser and Davis’ well-written Milestones both have brilliant solos by Miles. He shows perceptive depth, excellent continuity and forthright clarity. Davis has a knack of selecting one note and implying six.

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Down Beat : 11/13/1958
Don Gold : 4 stars

Although Davis has not been known as one of the happy extroverts of jazz, he has quietly, deliberately, and judiciously matured as an artist. Compelled by a desire to express himself fully, he seldom has remained static. He has not wandered aimlessly, either. He has progressed along a well-defined path, assimilating wisely along the way, setting his own goals rather than gripping those of his contemporaries. While this has alienated some jazzmen and listeners, more obviously so in recent years, Davis has managed to maintain his integrity without sacrificing his inherent artistry.

These comments preface any evaluation of this, Davis’ latest sextet LP. It is not a wholly successful venture, primarily because Davis’ companions here are not yet of his stature, although several of them may well find places in jazz comparable to his in time.

Coltrane and Adderley are ambitious, able jazzmen. Here, however, both are primarily concerned with rhythmic exploitation, at times at the expense of communication. This is particularly evident on the frenetic Dr. Jekyll and on Monk’s Straight, No Chaser, on which both horn men flurry excitedly in flanking a splendidly structured Davis solo. On Milestones, there is inspiring compatibility. Miles sits out Bass Hit; Billy is a trio track, with Garland given an opportunity to display his lyric side and Chambers ably offering an arco solo.

The key track, and the lengthiest, is Ahead, which manifests several of the characteristics of the blowing session, on a familiar theme. Davis is the leader, in every sense, playing with force and significance. Coltrane solos authoritatively, too. Chambers solos effectively. Adderley’s solo is more an indication of eager groping than a cohesive statement.

The rhythm section is superb throughout.

Davis’ statements here are genuinely eloquent. Although I feel that Coltrane often records material best left in a practice room, his efforts here do indicate that he is rapidly moving toward a niche of his own, absorbing influences but not being obsessed by them. Adderley is less the individualist but is performing on a level of fluency which will make the discovery of a self-sustaining role less difficult in time. Here, the three horns and stimulating rhythm section work together well, in terms of the levels noted.

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Liner Notes by Charles Edward Smith

If you took the years of a man’s life and marked them out as milestones, making each year one unit—call it a mile or a thousand miles—you’d find that the distance between one marker and another would have little to do with the pretended mileage. Allowing m.1-minus to stand for 1926, the year of Miles Davis’ birth, you’d agree that 1927, or m.1, could more easily be understood as a thousand miles than as a paltry 4,860 feet—the first year of anyone’s life being a pacesetter. M.32-plus would be another significant marker since it would designate, in our unorthodox cartography, the appearance of this vigorous, richly rhythmic album—a pacesetter, a milestone in jazz.

Though it may already be familiar territory to you, let’s check a few of the markers: M.13—Father—at suggestion of dental patient of his who was also local music instructor—gave Miles a trumpet. (This teacher not only helped Miles to learn technique but talked to him about the blowing styles of Bobby Hackett and Hal Baker.) Between m.13 and m.16—when Miles was playing with a local group, The Blue Devils—Miles heard and sat in with Charlie (Bird) Parker, the altoist who began his career with Jay McShann. M.18—”Sat in” with Dizzy Gillespie and Bird. (Dizzy walked up to him, said, “Kid, do you have a union card?” Miles said he did and was invited to play. He did his best but “couldn’t read a thing from listening to Diz and Bird.”)

M.19—To New York, too late for the first bopbash at Minton’s but just in time for the new sounds on 52nd Street. (In New York to study at Juilliard, he spent his first month’s allowance looking for Charlie Parker. When he found him, he tagged along to the Street of the Changing Chords. Bird kept after him to wail outside the woodshed. “Don’t be afraid,” Bird said, “Go ahead and play.”) M.21—On tour with Eckstine. M.22—Led own groups at Royal Roost. M.22-plus—Miles and fellow climatologists inaugurate the cool season. M.23—At Paris Jazz Festival. M.29—Organizes group on a permanent basis. M.31—Records orchestral arrangements by Gil Evans, the man who encouraged him to write music. (Miles Ahead, CL 1041, was also his second Columbia album within a year to be given a 5-star rating by Down Beat.) M.32—With the addition of Julian “Cannonball” Adderley, one of today’s great stylists on alto, the quintet became a sextet.

A good way to describe the Miles Davis Sextet might be to begin with the rhythm section, one of the most formidable in jazz today. Only a very few compare with it, either in solid swinging jazz or in that sort of suspended, subtly stated swing in which cross rhythms and sparsely emphasized beats prevail. The latter quality dominates a great deal of Jackie McLean’s Dr. Jekyll; this is played fast, in a clipped accent, in a tonal approach and tempo that, like fat green olives, will grow on you. Another example of the clipped accent sometimes called “cool” is Two Bass Hit, a John Lewis composition. And there is a solid swing in the strong dance tempo of Milestones—one of the great jazz performances of 1958 in which one is struck by the extraordinary effects achieved by “Philly” Joe Jones—effects that could only be realized with deliberate control, yet that never sound studied.

Paul Chambers was named Paul Laurence Dunbar Chambers, Jr., presumably in honor of both his father and the well-known 19th century poet. This seems not inappropriate, particularly as one listens to the “deep song” of his bowed bass on Dr. Jekyll. A beauty of tone is combined, in his playing, with an extraordinary technical gift and, underlying it, such a strong sense of swing that he could carry the rhythm all by himself, if that were necessary. It isn’t, of course—in this group no single man has to carry the burden, though each is more than capable. In fact, the coordination of rhythm instruments is constantly exciting, as on Sid’s Ahead where—after some choicely plucked bass by Paul—there is a thrilling exercise in rhythmic tension, with a relaxed feel to it. On Billy Boy, Paul plays as amusing a bowed bass as has been heard since Slam Stewart flat-foot-floogied up the best-seller charts—that was all of a couple of decades ago, just about the time that P.L.D.C., Jr. left the high-chair under his own steam.

Oran “Hot Lips” Page who, with his brother Walter, sparked the historically memorable “Blue Devils”—possibly inspiring the name for the group Miles joined in East St. Louis a decade later—is credited with having “discovered” William “Red” Garland while playing in Dallas, Texas, where both men were born. There are many good examples of his piano in this set, beginning with Dr. Jekyll, and excellent supporting piano throughout. There is full-bodied, two-fisted, strongly-chorded solo work on Straight, No Chaser, and on Billy Boy—a roisterous, rhythmic romp—while the right hand supplies substantially a full solo on its own, the left provides a Greek chorus of chords.

Of the two saxophones, tenor-man John Coltrane—born in North Carolina the same year Miles was born in Illinois—once played alto. Altoist Adderley, although an admirer of Charlie Parker, was first influenced by tenor players, including Coleman Hawkins and Prez. Both men have such range on their instruments that at times one has to listen closely to know who’s playing what. On Dr. Jekyll the breathless Julian is an ancient mariner on fast alto and on Sid’s Ahead, John’s tenor breathes petals like plumes. Both contribute admirably to the superb job on Milestones—Coltrane in that surging style of his, with great definition. And on Two Bass Hit the sense of the break is in Cannonball’s attack as he expounds the “guts and legato” style, to which he has made a few noteworthy additions. (As for the latter, observe how he handles clusters of notes on Straight, No Chaser.)

Like Hackett and Baker—whom Miles’ teacher heard on the Mississippi boats—Miles has developed an unusual beauty of tone that gives warmth even to his most restrained, understated choruses. His playing has never lacked emotion but the emotion has usually been contained—he doesn’t slap emotions at the listener—and, like J.J. Johnson, he is a “complete chorus” improvisor and is unusually objective in his playing. On open or muted horn his style has gradually gained in strength and outward vigor. Indeed, listening to the muted chorus on Milestones, the word cool no longer seems appropriate to it, if it ever was. The melody emerges with sureness, with clarity, or yet like sound coming softly through lustred velvet or pouring richly through shot silk.

When Miles “sat in” with Billy Eckstine in St. Louis he had, one gathers from Billy’s account, blowing and growing pains, even though he knew the book. Later, after a spell at Juilliard—not of sufficient duration to count for much—and work with various groups in the East, he joined Eckstine for a short period, taking over the same book, the solo book, that was originally Dizzy’s.

By the mid-Forties it was becoming apparent—at least to Miles and to some of his associates—that he was to take a direction completely his own. He’d listen to Bird and others and—wanting not to ape but to learn—would write down chords on matchbook covers. “Next day,” he recalled (in an interview taped for Columbia), “I’d play those chords all day in the practice room at Juilliard, instead of going to classes.”

Miles Davis got some of his most valuable small group experience during the 1940s, the period during which his style slowly began to take shape. His early associations, his innate artistic sense, and his friendship with Bird, impelled him to concentrate on a clean and musically articulate style, agile but not forced and never forceful for its own sake. The meeting with Gil Evans must have been important to him since he gives it special emphasis—no doubt the actual experience of writing showed him how intimately composition and performance could be fused. His own compositions, as well as his arrangements for this set, seem to point that way. There is further confirmation in his statement that, “There’s a certain feeling you get from playing that you can’t get from composing. And when you play, it’s like a composition anyway.”

Sid’s Ahead is Miles’ opus to an old operator (not in years but experience). In it—opening on a repeated note fed him by saxophone—he displays the lovely tone of his open horn in an incantation to the midnight sounds when disc jockey Symphony Sid (Sid Torin)—on a New York station—plays jazz and spiels commercials like a hip carnival barker. On Dr. Jekyll and Two Bass Hit there is some riding ensemble and strong terse horn above the rhythm. Milestones, the other Miles Davis original in this set, will be enjoyed in its entirety—as will other of the arrangements—but it will also stand out because it includes one of the most beautiful jobs on muted horn since Leon “Bix” Beiderbecke, with a cornet and a piece of old felt, shook up the whole Whiteman band on Sweet Sue (CL 846). Miles has an ear for a pop tune (Billy Boy) and for a dance rhythm to rich chords (Straight, No Chaser). The former is unabashed fun, from the solo passages of Red’s authentic Red Garland style piano to the point where “Philly” Joe Jones, with exuberant blockbusters and sundry side arms, completes the composition. Straight, No Chaser is one of those Thelonious Monk melodies in the playing of which the listener is aware of the harmonies solidly behind each instrumental voice. Miles’ solo statement—in the singing tonality of his open horn—has a rare nobility.

Writing of Miles Davis in The New Yorker, Whitney Balliett observed, “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.” It is consistent with the development of Miles Davis that this “basic hotness” emerges more and more into the open. But what makes it one of the outstanding voices in jazz today is this: the demand of his art—when his blowing is at its best—is a more powerful force than the compelling emotion that feeds it.