October is Miles Month here on Edge of the Line. We’re celebrating 75 years since the recording of Miles Davis’ debut solo LP, The New Sounds (October 1951). 2026 also marks 100 years since Davis’ birth (May 26, 1926).
Did Miles Davis ever play a more stankface note than the one 34 seconds into ‘Miles Runs the Voodoo Down’?
Though Bitches Brew (1970) and producer Teo Macero’s use of tape editing to form new arrangements was influential – it was one of the first major albums to really alter the compositions from those you’d hear live – ‘Miles Runs the Voodoo Down’ is the only track on the LP without editing.
But it was the single edit, released the same year, that highlighted the funk. For the near-three minutes (the start of the full-length version), everyone’s focused on rhythm: John McLaughlin on guitar, often harshly strumming one chord then laying out for a couple bars; the two drummers; even Miles, whose trumpet would traditionally be responsible for the melody. He stabs a two-note phrases at 0:49 with McLaughlin’s guitar waiting to attack next.
Conga player Don Alias came up with the drum rhythm while he was in New Orleans for Mardi Gras. The band had played the track twice in the studio and it “wasn’t happening” with Lenny White and Jack DeJohnette’s drumming, Alias recalled.
Miles was about to count off for the third time; Alias interrupted and said he’d “got this rhythm” that would go with the tune. Miles told him to play it, listened, and then told Alias to “Show Jack, show Jack.” DeJohnette wasn’t getting it, so Miles told Alias to stay on White’s drum set, and Alias was one of the two drummers on the final recording of ‘Voodoo’. (Most of the other tracks have DeJohnette and White mixed right and left; ‘Feio’ has DeJohnette and Billy Cobham.)
Miles was known as Mr Cool. Way back in 1945, he played a solo on Charlie Parker’s ‘Now’s the Time’ that anticipated cool jazz; in 1957 Miles released Birth of the Cool.
Now, he was playing with a snarl. The phrase at 1:37 is possibly the most badass anyone has ever sounded while also sounding a bit like they farted. Not much of this near-three minutes is laid back (neither, in fact, is much of the 14-minute version). Miles’ trumpet is at times piercing, pushed in its upper register; elsewhere (2:08) he makes a surreal whir.
The mood is often ambiguous (like much of ’70s Miles). Are the musicians hesitant or unrushed? The cymbal splash at 0:20; the low hum of saxophone at 0:31; the strange squeaks of guitar art 1:24… they all seem to leave questions unanswered. Then later, is the band nervous or confident? The more distorted guitar and the crashing snares could be read either way.
The title was a tribute to Jimi Hendrix’s famous song, ‘Voodoo Chile’. Miles had been introduced to Hendrix’s music by his second wife, Betty Mabry, who performed as Betty Davis. Miles and Hendrix were planning to record until the latter’s death in 1970.
Top image from Discogs.