minted . It is the sentimental reverie of the older listener and critic that the young still have waiting for them the first delicious shock of the classics : Louis Armstrong playing “ Willie the Weeper ”, or Coleman Hawkins turning “ Body and Soul ” from a romantic ballad into a grand edifice of harmony , or Charlie Parker blazing through the changes of “ Au Privave ”; or , to return to Miles Davis , those first frail trumpet tones on “ It Never Entered My Mind ”, made on May 11 , 1956 at Rudy Van Gelder ’ s studio in Hackensack and another of those moments – as the Louis Malle soundtrack was to be – that saw the trumpeter making step-changes away from bebop and swing and into a new approach to jazz improvisation . Who would not want to hear these tracks , or a hundred more from subsequent years , for the very first time ?
It is very tempting to consider a book read , a painting seen , an album listened to , as if each were simply a tick on a school list and then shelved or forgotten in favour of novelty . We do , of course , re-read , haunt the gallery and play the LP until it is practically smooth , but in doing so we are lulling ourselves with familiarity rather than searching out new aesthetic experience and in such cases respectful , even reverential , neglect awaits just around the corner . We often pass by the very books and art works we consider the greatest , as if the point were proven and no further action , and no further pleasure , need be taken .
Kind of Blue is a record that has perhaps been studied too much . Ashley Kahn , one of the leading contemporary commentators on jazz , has devoted a whole book to its making . His method is archaeological , reconstructing the sessions via studio talk , scribbled notes , the first draft of Bill Evans ’ liner notes , a typically painstaking survey . For Kind of Blue : The Making of the Miles Davis Masterpiece , he has interviewed the few surviving participants – only drummer
22