In cinephile circles, biopics are notorious for being underwhelming. Nitpicking can come from multiple directions—with one camp deriding a central lack of tension in the telling of an icon’s familiar story, and another wailing over any dramatic liberty taken with the historical record. Director and actor Don Cheadle’s new film about Miles Davis plunges consciously and energetically into this fraught zone, not least because it dares to call itself Miles Ahead (aka the title of one of Davis’ great big band LPs). That titling move amounts to an open invitation to jazz whiners and/or experts everywhere.
As an actor, Cheadle looks and sounds the part. His styling is immaculate, and his voice channels Davis’ famous rasp. But at a level of sound, the two recordings that spring from Cheadle’s project face an even steeper challenge—simply because any re-appropriation of Davis’ music is a more precarious enterprise than acting out the life story. In this light, reporting that the original sounds created for (or inspired by) Cheadle’s film do not immediately register as embarrassments is a form of high praise.
The bulk of this film’s single-disc “original motion picture soundtrack” is built from brief dialogue snippets from the film (which are fine), select Davis cuts presented in full (“So What,” from Kind of Blue, naturally) and a few edits of classic Davis recordings (which should be avoided on general principle). Shaving down clips of Miles is a necessity of cinematic sound-design convention, and isn’t a mark against the film itself. But once you’re listening to a recording, outside the theater, I doubt even the filmmakers behind Miles Ahead would argue that it isn’t more important to seek out a complete, originally issued take. The soundtrack’s most interesting custom songs come toward the end of the album, where the film’s musical supervisor, keyboardist Robert Glasper, has the chance to offer four original pieces inspired by Davis’ protean example. And he makes each opportunity count.
“Junior’s Jam” has a spare funk indebted to Miles’ Jack Johnson sessions (and fortunately the playing of Glasper, saxophonist Marcus Strickland, and trumpeter Keyon Harrold doesn’t sound overly imitative). The chill of “Francessence” sounds equally inspired by In a Silent Way as well as latter-day film score work by the likes of Terence Blanchard. There’s a group rave-up meant to connote an active club feel (“What’s Wrong With That?”), and it includes some fiery soprano saxophone playing from onetime Davis band member Wayne Shorter. And album-closer “Gone 2015” features joyously triumphant rhyming from the too-often overlooked Pharoahe Monch.
Working on the film seems to have given Glasper more ideas than could be included on the original soundtrack. So, with the permission of the Davis estate, he’s also created another full-length release that frequently uses the trumpeter’s recorded legacy as point of departure. More than a “remix” album, Everything’s Beautiful shows off Glasper’s skills with sampling, and his talent for creating original work. The pinnacle of the set comes on “Maiysha (So Long),” when Erykah Badu delivers original lyrics over Glasper’s playing and a sample of a Davis performance found on the album Get Up With It. And the keyboardist’s cover of “Milestones” proves that he doesn’t need access to the trumpeter’s tape-vault in order to create valid interpretations.
Glasper’s supporting cast draws from the range of talents he’s also employed on his reliably enjoyable Black Radio series of jazz-meets-R&B fusion recordings. So in addition to Badu’s star turn, we get Phonte rapping over a 9th Wonder production (during “Violets”), as well as the presence of vocalists like Bilal—whose phrasing and register-leaps animate the strut of “Ghetto Walkin’” (built from a groove Davis cut in 1969). The melisma and occasional grit of Ledisi’s voice drives “I’m Leaving You,” a song which also puts the spotlight on the guitar work of latter-day Davis collaborator John Scofield.
A trio of cuts toward the middle of Everything’s Beautiful suffers from feeling less robustly reimagined than the rest of the set—placing a slight drag on momentum. But there’s an easy fix: To experience the full range of the pianist’s Davis-derived thinking, just add Glasper’s contributions from the Miles Ahead soundtrack to Everything’s Beautiful. By being respectful of the artist’s legacy while also making some smart, contemporary production choices, Glasper’s best work proves an an ideal vehicle for paying tribute to an artist who had a firm feel for tradition, but who never stayed fixed in one place for very long.
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