Miles Davis - Get Up With It | Record Review #002

Have you ever felt lost at sea? Like you were stranded amidst the vast expanse of ocean, miles of waves crashing into a seemingly unending oblivion? That's how listening to Get Up With It feels.

As the last studio album from the electric period, it's only natural that Get Up With It would find Miles Davis at the culmination of every sound he experimented with from the past 5 years. The ambient explorations of In a Silent Way, the abstract and befuddling compositions which made up Bitches Brew, hardcore jazz-funk on On the Corner, hazy psychedelia from Live-Evil, it's all here in one massive 2 hour package. Every possible exploration Miles could've conjured between 1970-1974 is on full display, and it is a glorious thing to behold.

With the exception of Honky Tonk and Red China Blues, every track here is a 10+ minute monster, with disc openers He Loved Him Madly and Calypso Frelimo both cracking the 30 minute mark. These shorter piece are the only real disappointments on the album (see the much better performance of Funky Tonk on Live-Evil to see what could have been), but everything else is a resounding achievement of both Miles' talent as a band leader, and the insane skill of his ensembles.

Get Up With It is often labeled the most "commercial" of his record from the electric period, and some might see that description as a put down; but when you listen, it's a fair appraisal. This is one of the most outright funky projects Miles released during this time, taking the balls to the walls funk jams of On the Corner and stretching them into oblivion. Each song here tends to start with a core idea that's warped and changed as the track progresses, leaving ample room for soloists to make their presence apparent while still feeling cohesive as a compositional entity.

Mtume acts as a great benchmark: Miles and co. alternate between two clear melodic motifs for the majority of the runtime, allowing space to jam before alternating to the other motif for a new sound once they've rode out their current idea. The only time this changes is when Miles' organ crashes over everything at 12 minutes, prompting a massive change in tone; the final three minutes are far darker and intense, yet still manage to feel cohesive with the identity of what proceeded it. Lest I forget to mention the contributions of Mtume himself, his percussion on this track (and across the album) pair perfectly with the various drummers, adding in complex rhythmic motifs that make even the simplest grooves feel neverending.

Even on the relatively simpler pieces like Billy Preston, the power of each ensemble is worth enough for admission themselves. Miles plays a reckless blend of various instruments, both acoustic and electric, while heavyweight performances from Al Foster (drums), Michael Henderson, and Reggie Lucas (guitar) serve as the consistent through line which makes all the glorious experimentation surrounding them work as well as it does. It's a wonder this record managed to blend together easily accessible sounds alongside the madness of tracks like Rated X, but that's the enduring legacy of Miles' electric period: what isn't right is just a coward failing to make it sound good.