324: SKETCHES OF SPAIN | MILES DAVIS
Mark Richardson at Pitchfork: Is this even jazz? Sketches of Spain was perhaps the first Miles Davis album to inspire this question, though it certainly wouldn't be the last. Originally released in 1960, it was Davis' studio follow-up to the landmark Kind of Blue, and it found him, yet again, striking out in an entirely new direction.
Working with arranger Gil Evans, Davis cooked up a concept album, looking to the structure and texture of Spanish folk and classical music for inspiration. The two old friends and collaborators were on a huge roll creatively during this period. Davis was piling up hall of fame-caliber jazz albums with alarming regularity, while Evans, in addition to working with Davis frequently in the late 1950s, recorded what was perhaps his finest solo album in 1960, Out of the Cool (it vaguely shares a vibe with Sketches, but is in my estimation just a hair better). So to say both were in strong form here would be an understatement. Davis takes what is most striking about his trumpet style-- the controlled soloing in the middle register, with a mastery of subtle shifts in focus-- and amplifies it, creating measured phrases of almost painful intensity. While Evans' distinctive approach to harmony and tonal color-- one of the most enjoyable "Hey, I get it!" moments as you first explore jazz is when you start to recognize his arrangements-- inhabits a form that to the uninitiated can sound mysterious and exotic and sensual. It's hard not to be taken in immediately.
And that's the first thing to note about Sketches of Spain: Where Davis' "Is this jazz?" albums from the late-60s forward were often dense and challenging ("Is this even music?" even came up now and then), Sketches of Spain was always easy to like. So much so that, like its predecessor, it became the kind of record that someone with only two or three albums by jazz artists might have in their collection. That's partly up to its potential contexts being so variable. There's a lot going on in the music that rewards a close listen, but it's also something you can put on and read to (though admittedly, some of the dynamic surges could be a little jolting). It's often quiet and atmospheric, at points coming over as almost ambient. It's the kind of album that dims the light in the room whenever it plays. It's also absolutely gorgeous.