Cutting Edge in 1957
Given that my co-authors and I have recently pulled down four posts, I'll make up for the shortfall with a third post this morning by way of a response to the pretty essay about sound by Thesaurus. So in that vein, I present to you the cutting edge of 1957.
History is, of course, about the winners and so now when we think about the cutting edge of music in the 1950s, we are most likely to "remember" Elvis Presley or Roy Orbison or Buddy Holley. But this was a corner of a corner of music in the incredibly vibrant 1950s. Looking back through the lens of Presley-Orbison-Holley it is easy enough to mis-remember the period as one of consensus and conformity, but hidden beneath this false memory was an incredible angst driven at least in part by those duck and cover films that every kid in every school in America had to watch in every grade during public school.
In 1957, Miles Davis was on the road to putting his life back together. After having spent a decade trying to keep up with Dizzy Gillespie and Louis Armstrong, and failing for Davis never had the power or quickness of either trumpeter, he kicked his drug habit and discovered his own soul. Blessed with a musical context that included haunting tunes by Billie Holiday (Lady Sings the Blues - 1956), Chet Baker (How Long has this Been Going On - 1957 and 1958) and Frank Sinatra (One for my Baby, and One More for the Road - 1958), Davis produced his most soulful tune. Cleaning up in Paris, Davis recorded "Generique," a song with a depth beyond anything ever recorded. The soul is invisible, but as Davis sonically illustrates, not inaudible.
The question is: Was this indeed cutting edge? Or had the soul been heard before 1957?
History is, of course, about the winners and so now when we think about the cutting edge of music in the 1950s, we are most likely to "remember" Elvis Presley or Roy Orbison or Buddy Holley. But this was a corner of a corner of music in the incredibly vibrant 1950s. Looking back through the lens of Presley-Orbison-Holley it is easy enough to mis-remember the period as one of consensus and conformity, but hidden beneath this false memory was an incredible angst driven at least in part by those duck and cover films that every kid in every school in America had to watch in every grade during public school.
In 1957, Miles Davis was on the road to putting his life back together. After having spent a decade trying to keep up with Dizzy Gillespie and Louis Armstrong, and failing for Davis never had the power or quickness of either trumpeter, he kicked his drug habit and discovered his own soul. Blessed with a musical context that included haunting tunes by Billie Holiday (Lady Sings the Blues - 1956), Chet Baker (How Long has this Been Going On - 1957 and 1958) and Frank Sinatra (One for my Baby, and One More for the Road - 1958), Davis produced his most soulful tune. Cleaning up in Paris, Davis recorded "Generique," a song with a depth beyond anything ever recorded. The soul is invisible, but as Davis sonically illustrates, not inaudible.
The question is: Was this indeed cutting edge? Or had the soul been heard before 1957?
posted by Definer at 5:57 AM
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