The Right Note.
“It’s not the note you play that’s the wrong note - it’s the note you play afterwards that makes it right or wrong.”
- Miles Davis
Miles Davis, a musical legend and true icon, stands as one of the most influential and innovative jazz musicians of the 20th century. Renowned for his perpetual transformation of sound. Davis’ passion for music transcended the the boundaries of jazz, extending to a diverse array of genres including blues, classical, flamenco, Arab, and Indian music. His boundless admiration for various musical forms inspired him to explore sound in many differently ways, continuously challenging himself to evolve and redefine his artistic expression.
Davis’ unwavering commitment to growth not only positioned him as a pioneer in reshaping the landscape of jazz, but also played a pivotal role in introducing new forms of jazz music. Moreover, his artistic endeavors helped define the course of jazz in popular culture, shaping the trajectory of jazz for generations to come.
What resonates deeply about Miles Davis is his fearlessness. Unafraid of change, he traversed uncharted territories. Instead of being afraid of admitting when he was wrong, or afraid of taking risks, he seized those opportunities for growth. His famous quote about playing the wrong note encapsulates this ethos— reminding us that mistakes are inevitable, but our response to them defines our journey. Did we learn from our mistake, did we make amends, did we change, and did we even admit that a mistake was made?
In celebrating Miles Davis's legacy, we not only honor his musical brilliance but also embrace the spirit of fearlessness and resilience he embodied, inspiring us to navigate our own paths with audacity and grace.
“Do not fear mistakes. There are none.”
Miles Davis III was born on May 26, 1926, in Alton, Illinois, and raised in East St. Louis. His mother, Cleota Mae was a music teacher and violinist, while his father, Miles Davis Jr., was a surgical dentist. In his memoir “Miles: The Autobiography,” Davis recalls growing up in a close yet strained family dynamic. Despite being close with his father and sister, his relationship with his mother was fraught with tension. Regular arguments characterized their interactions, fueled by a lack of understanding and acceptance on her part. Witnessing his parents' violent conflicts left a lasting impact on Davis, as he recalls instances of his mother throwing objects at his father and his father resorting to physical violence. He wouldn’t know until later how this troubled past haunted him.
At the age of ten a pivotal moment occurred in Davis's life when he received his first trumpet. His passion for the instrument blossomed, and he began taking lessons from music teacher Elwood Buchanan, whom he credits as being “the biggest influence on my life.” Under Buchanan's guidance, Davis learned to play without vibrato, refining his technique to produce a smoother and more emotionally resonant sound.
Davis’ views on music, theory, performance, and even his own skills and work is amazingly analytical, honest, heartfelt, and he is very blunt in his delivery of those views. From his autobiography he has always been straight up even as a child. As a teenager Davis began entering music competitions. He recalls losing out in a competition even when he knew in his heart that not only was his performance better, but that he was the superior musician. He knew that he’d lost because he was Black and his competitor was White, and he vowed then that he would never let racism beat him out again, and he would do that by becoming the absolute best.
“You want to know how I started playing trumpet? My father bought me one, and I studied the trumpet. And everybody I heard that I liked, I picked up things from. ”
In 1944, Davis was awarded a scholarship to attend the Juilliard School in New York. While he attended classes during the day, it was his evenings that provided the real education. Venturing uptown to Harlem, he sought out his mentors and jazz legends Charlie "Bird" Parker and Dizzy Gillespie. Immersing himself in their performances, joining their jam sessions, and engaging in conversations about music, Davis honed his skills in the vibrant atmosphere of Harlem's jazz scene.
After a year at Juilliard, Davis made the decision to drop out. He felt that the schools curriculum catered to white European musical influences in music and completely overlooked the contributions of Black musicians. Instead, Davis continued his education in Harlem, learning firsthand from legendary musicians who were shaping musical innovation on a nightly basis. It was during this period, between 1945 and 1948, that Davis and Parker recorded extensively, with Davis refining his improvisational style that would come to define his trumpet playing.
An unexpected opportunity arose when Davis was invited to a meeting in Duke Ellington's office. The invitation itself was a testament to Davis's growing reputation in the music industry, as Ellington was regarded as musical royalty. However, Davis surprised many by turning down Ellington's offer to join his band. He explains, he knew that if he had taken The Duke’s offer and joined his band he would not have developed the way that he knew that he was meant too. turning down The Duke would seem like career suicide, but its not the note you play that is wrong or not, its the not you play after.
In 1946, Davis made his debut as a bandleader with the Miles Davis Sextet. Pushing boundaries further, he formed a nine-piece band in 1949, incorporating unconventional additions such as the French horn, trombone, and tuba. This ensemble released a series of singles that would later be recognized as a significant contribution to modern jazz, eventually compiled into the iconic album "Birth of the Cool."
In 1946 Davis made his first appearance as a bandleader with the Miles Davis Sextet. “In 1949, Davis formed a nine-piece band with uncommon additions, such as the French horn, trombone and tuba. He released a series of singles that would later be considered a significant contribution to modern jazz. They were later released as part of the album Birth of the Cool.”
“Sometimes you have to play a long time to be able to play like yourself.”
In 1949, a 22-year-old Miles Davis embarked on a transformative journey to Paris with his band to perform at the inaugural Parisian International Jazz Festival. While Davis's popularity was on the rise in America, particularly among his peers and Black audiences, he continued to grapple with the harsh realities of racism, segregation, and discrimination.
However, his experience in Paris proved to be a revelation. Davis reflected on this pivotal moment, stating, "This was my first trip out of the country... It changed the way I looked at things forever... I loved being in Paris and loved the way I was treated." Paris offered Davis a glimpse of a different world where not all white people harbored prejudice, and he found himself welcomed and appreciated in a way he had not experienced before.
Many other Black musicians shared similar sentiments. In Paris, they were celebrated for their talent and artistry in a manner that resonated deeply, as it contrasted starkly with the systemic racism they faced back home. Some musicians opted to remain in Paris, where they could enjoy freedoms unavailable to them in America.
Many other Black musicians shared those sentiments. In Paris, they were celebrated for their talent and artistry in a manner that resonated deeply, as it contrasted starkly with the systemic racism they faced back home. Some musicians opted to remain in Paris, where they could enjoy freedoms unavailable to them in America.
However, Davis ultimately made the decision to return to America, despite his love for Paris. He observed that while Parisian audiences embraced his music unconditionally, the more discerning audiences of Harlem challenged him to strive for excellence and provided honest feedback, albeit sometimes brutally so. Additionally, Davis recognized that to continue evolving as a musician, he needed to be surrounded by the unparalleled talent found in New York City.
Leaving Paris was bittersweet for Davis. It meant relinquishing newfound freedom and returning to the harsh realities of racial injustice in America—a decision he described as returning to the "bullshit." Yet, his time in Paris had broadened his perspective and instilled in him a renewed sense of purpose as he resumed his musical journey in New York.
“It’s not about standing still and becoming safe. If anybody wants to keep creating they have to be about change.”
Upon returning to the United States from Paris in 1949, Miles Davis faced a stark reality—he was met with a cold reception, replete with the harsh reminders of racism that plagued American society. His homecoming also thrust him into a different kind of struggle—one where he found himself deprived of the very essence of his being: his music. For Davis, music wasn't merely a passion; it was a fundamental need, a lifeline that sustained him through the tumultuous journey of his life.
However, Davis's return to the States proved to be fraught with challenges. Struggling to secure work and grappling with financial instability, he found himself descending into a deep depression exacerbated by his growing dependence on heroin. In 1951, Davis inked a one-year record deal with Prestige Records, hoping to alleviate his financial woes. Yet, the meager earnings from the contract were quickly swallowed by the escalating costs of his addiction.
Davis's private battle with heroin addiction was thrust into the public eye during a DownBeat interview with Cab Calloway—an exposure that Davis deeply resented, as it brought him immense pain and scrutiny. The revelation of his addiction invited harsh criticism from music critics, who dismissed him as "just another junkie." Davis felt betrayed by these critiques, viewing them as personal attacks on his character rather than assessments of his musical prowess.
Refusing to be defined by the judgments of others, Davis adopted a defiant stance, prioritizing his music above all else. During performances, he often played with his head down or turned away from the audience, eschewing the expectation of engaging with spectators. Critics described him as “arrogant” for not being as personable and friendly as some other musicians, insinuating that he should be grateful for the opportunity to be on the stage. Davis took this to mean that critics wanted to him smile and dance like a menstrual show, and he was absolutely against it. People came to hear him play, his music spoke for itself, so he did not need to pander to the audience.
Davis made numerous attempts to break free from his addiction, but it wasn't until 1954 that he finally succeeded. Retreating to his father's home, he isolated himself in a room and endured the agonizing symptoms of withdrawal alone, until one day he knew that it was over and that he had beat it. He describes walking out of the room and seeing his father, and without words only an embrace that both knew that he was finally free from the addiction.
Returning to New York in the same year, Davis embarked on a journey of self-improvement and renewal. Immersing himself in the discipline of boxing at a local gym, he found solace and stability in the rigorous regimen, which served as a bulwark against the specter of relapse. With newfound clarity and determination, Davis set his sights on revitalizing his music career.
In 1955, Davis assembled a rockstar band featuring luminaries such as John Coltrane, Red Garland, Paul Chambers, and Philly Joe Jones, later augmented by Cannonball Adderley in 1958. This collaboration culminated in the creation of his magnum opus, "Kind of Blue," released in 1959—a seminal work that would go on to become the highest-selling jazz album of all time.
Teaming up with Gil Evans, Davis embarked on a series of groundbreaking recordings, including "Miles Ahead," "Porgy and Bess," "Sketches of Spain," and "Quiet Nights." His relentless pursuit of innovation continued in 1964 when he assembled a new band featuring Herbie Hancock, Tony Williams, Ron Carter, and Wayne Shorter. This lineup heralded a shift towards electric jazz, exemplified by the groundbreaking release of "In a Silent Way" in 1968.
Pushing the boundaries of conventional jazz even further, Davis unleashed "Bitches Brew" in 1969, a bold fusion of rock, funk, and jazz elements that defied categorization. Undeterred by the critics, Davis remained resolute in his quest to explore new sounds and styles, a commitment that garnered him widespread acclaim and recognition.
n 1986, Davis's album "Tutu" earned him his fourth Grammy Award for Best Jazz Instrumental Performance, followed by his fifth Grammy in 1989 for "Aura." Honored with a Lifetime Achievement Grammy Award in 1990, Davis's indelible legacy was further celebrated with a memorable performance alongside Quincy Jones at the Montreux Jazz Festival the following year, securing his enduring place in the annals of music history.
“When you’re creating your own shit, man, even the sky ain’t the limit.”
On September 28, 1991, the world mourned the loss of a musical titan as Miles Davis passed away at the age of 65. His death, attributed to the combined effects of a stroke, pneumonia, and respiratory failure, marked the end of an extraordinary life—one that left an indelible mark on the landscape of jazz and beyond.
Davis was a figure of immense influence and controversy, shaping every major development in jazz since the mid-1940s and exerting a profound impact on the realm of rock music. Widely recognized as the preeminent jazz musician of his era, he transcended the boundaries of music to become an outspoken social critic and a trendsetter in attitude, fashion, and style.
A staunch advocate for social justice, Davis used his platform to speak out against racism, white supremacy, and police brutality, lending his voice to those who were marginalized and oppressed. His commitment to challenging societal norms was evident even in the smallest details, such as his insistence on featuring a Black woman on his album cover to challenge Eurocentric beauty standards.
Yet, Davis's legacy is not without its flaws. His history of abuse towards women casts a dark shadow over his heroic efforts as a social crusader. In his later years, Davis candidly addressed his past transgressions, acknowledging the profound impact of his upbringing marred by violence and dysfunction.
While Davis's self-reflection and evolution offer a glimpse of redemption, they cannot erase the pain and suffering inflicted upon his victims, nor can they fully absolve him of his actions. The complexity of his character forces us to confront uncomfortable truths and grapple with the moral ambiguity of celebrating flawed individuals.
As we reckon with Davis's legacy, we are faced with difficult questions about how to navigate our admiration for his music in light of his imperfections. Do we continue to appreciate his artistic contributions while acknowledging his shortcomings? Do we hold him accountable for his actions, even as we recognize the cultural context in which they occurred?
Ultimately, the answer lies in our collective response. We can honor Davis's musical legacy while condemning his abusive behavior, recognizing that his humanity, like ours, is marked by both greatness and fallibility. Perhaps in doing so, we can glean valuable lessons about the complexities of art, identity, and moral responsibility, and strive to create a more just and equitable world for all.
“See, if you put a musician in a place where he has to do something different from what he does all the time, then he can do that - but he’s got to think differently in order to do it. He’s got to play above what he knows - far above it. I’ve always told the musicians in my band to play what they know and then play above that. Because then anything can happen, and that’s where great art and music happens.”
How Yoga Can Help
“Change leads to disappointment if it is not sustained. Transformation is sustained change, and it is achieved through practice.”
- B.K.S. Iyengar
This class breaks down the steps to developing padmasana (lotus pose). We work with hip opening actions in the standing poses and supine poses to stretch the inner legs, open the pelvis, and to create freedom and space in the hip joint. Deeper hip opening poses like padmasana can be intimidating, but when we can understand where to begin, and what to do next in our practice we begin to move closer to a succsseful padmasana practice.
Poses 1- 2
1. Adho Muka Virasana (Child’s Pose) 2. Adho Muka Svanasana (Downward Dog Pose) In this pose the stretch of the arms helps to free and extend the spine, open the shoulders, and fully expand the chest. The leg position helps create freedom and space in the ankle, knee, and hip joint.
Poses 3- 4
2. Utthita Trikonasana (Extended Triangle Pose) 4. Supta Padangusthasana II (Hand To Big Toe Pose) In these poses the external rotation of the front leg creates freedom and space in the hip joint while also lengthening the hamstring and extending the inner thigh.
Poses 4
4. Setu Bandha Sarvangasana (Supported Bridge Pose) In this pose a brick/ yoga block supports the sacrum and moves the tailbone in to stretch and open the frontal hips. In this pose the sides of the body extend and the chest opens fully. Practicing with support allows us to rest in extension.
Pose 5
5. Ardha Padmasana (Half Lotus Pose) Done correctly this pose can be very healthy physically for the ankle, knee and hip joint. Energetically, padmasana helps us turn our attention inwards to prepare for meditation.
Pose 6
6. Savasana (Corpse Pose) This pose calms the mind and helps reduce stress and anxiety. The final resting position allows for deep relaxation, allowing us to recover. and restore our natural energy.