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mers. He fed off the drummers, whether Kenny to phrase from listening to Frank Sinatra sing Clarke or PhiIly Joe Jones in the '50s, or Tony and to Orson Welles speak. His first teacher, Williams in the '60s. Elwood Buchanan, convinced him to play He is best known for his musical restlessness, without vibrato: you'll shake enough when for his unwillingness to stick to astyle or a you're old, Buchanan told his young student, conception—he mastered intricacies of who until then had wanted to sound like Harry only to decide that "bebop didn't have the James. The defining moment in his life may humanity of Duke Ellington," as he said in his have been when the Billy Ecicstine Orchestra, 1989 book, Miles: The Autobiography. In 1949, including and , he turned to arranger Gil Evans: together and came to St. Louis in 1944. Davis, then 18 years with like-minded musicians and composers, old, crossed the river from his hometown of he made the sessions that would later be called East St. Louis, Illinois and sat in with the band. The Birth of the Cool. By the time this music "I decided right then and there" he said, "that was issued on LP in 1954, he was on to some- Ihad to leave St. Louis and live in New York thing else—he wanted to wed the fire of bebop City where all these bad musicians were." with the funkiness of the blues. He helped pop- In the fall of 1944, he was in New York, ularize modal in his 1959 masterpiece, attending Juilliard School of Music by day and Kind of Blue. A decade later, he was experi- living bebop at night. His first recordings, after menting with electric instruments and rock asession with vocalist Rubberlegs Williams in rhythms. In the '70s, his musical influences which he was largely inaudible, were with the came, as often as not, from contemporary high priest of bop, Charlie Parker, who hired popular music: his heroes included Jimi Hen- the teenager for his quintet. Parker wanted drix, James Brown, and Sly (Sylvester Stewart) someone to complement his brilliant sound; Stone of Sly and the Family Stone. When fans Davis, who used space dramatically, was the begged him to play "My Funny Valentine" one perfect foil. more time, he told them to get the record. On his first recordings, a nervous Davis When he finally did play aballad again, it was sounds unsure, but his tentative phrases con- by Cyndi Lauper. tained the germ of an idea. Unable to compete Davis changed the manners, as well as the productively with the speed and flash of Dizzy sounds, of jazz. In 1956, already astar, Davis Gillespie, he concentrated on adifferent style refused to continue to play the succession of and anew, darker sonority for jazz. In 1947, 40-minute sets alternating with 20-minute Savoy records recorded four of his tunes, and breaks that was then standard in jazz clubs. He this time Charlie Parker would be Davis's side- announced that he would play three sets a man—on tenor sax. A 21-year-old who could night. Those three sets became standard prac- make atenor saxophonist out of Charlie Par- tice. Much as he respected Louis Armstrong's ker knew what he was doing. His composi- playing, he disliked the older trumpeter's stage tions, such as "Milestones" and "Sippin' at cheerfulness, his grinning and jokes with the Belles," sounded more restrained and less angu- audience. When he became a leader, Davis lar than the typical Parker piece. stopped announcing tunes, occasionally turned The 1949 and 1950 Birth of the Cool sessions his back on the audience, and walked offstage helped establish Davis as an innovator. The ar- when not playing. He replaced Armstrong's rangements—by Gil Evans, , Gerry stage grin with an equally stagey scowl, de- Mulligan, and Johnny Carisi—were complex, signed, he said, to keep unwanted people away the orchestrations unusual in their bottom- from him. For all his apparent churlishness, jazz heavy dignity. The band had atrombone, tuba, fins took Davis to heart. People refer to Charlie and French horn as well as string bass—it Parker, or to Coltrane but always call the trum- became known as 's tuba band. But peter more familiarly: he is Miles. Davis had soon Davis was not well. lloubled with adrug charisma. A startlingly good-looking man and addiction, he temporarily withdrew to the mid- aspectacular dresser, in his long career he ap- west, and for the next three years recorded peared in oversized zoot suits, Brooks Brothers infrequently. pinstripes, and elaborately spangled, loosely It was the April 1954 session that resulted in fitting satin shirts and multicolored leather. Davis's classic recordings of "Walkin" and

In his autobiography, Davis said he learned "Blue 'n Boogie" that, according to the u-urn-

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