Miles Davis' electric period is one of the most celebrated, yet divisive periods in all of jazz history. Following the absolutely groundbreaking pair of In A Silent Way and Bitches Brew, it truly seemed like the sky was the limit for Miles. That's what makes Live-Evil (1971) as incredible as it is- just one year after the release of Bitches Brew, a record which upheaved any notions of what "jazz" could be, he somehow managed to turn even that experimental record on its head.
The performances on Live-Evil can be separated into two distinct categories, mirroring the two records Davis had released in the two years prior. On one hands, you have the shorter tracks Little Church, Nem um talvez, Selim, and the Medley of Gemini / Double Image; these all run sub 6 minutes, and continue the ambient explorations that characterized In a Silent Way. They focus on a strong fundamental foundation which allows the band to work together for harmonious swells and luscious movements, relying less on dissonance and more on subtle shifts in the textural landscape.
It's the rest of the tracks where Live-Evil truly lives up to its name; if the shorter tracks brought to mind In a Silent Way, then it's no wonder the rest take Miles' exploratory mindset on Bitches Brew and extend out to its logical conclusion. This is where you can truly feel each of the band members own unique styles melding in together with Miles' vision, from Jack DeJohnette's extended drum solo on What I Say leading back into the main melody, to the deconstructed minimal interplay that makes up the majority of Funky Tonk; not a moment on here feels wasted. Even if there are lulls in energy, it's filled by band members jumping off each other in a uniquely fascinating way.
Live-Dead pulls from two shows during December 1970, and you can tell much of this record's DNA can be traced back to Miles' run opening for The Grateful Dead earlier in the year. A psychedelic aesthetic hinted at on Bitches Brew is in full effect here, with John McLaughlin (Guitar) providing a heaping of trippy phrases for Miles' trumpet- and the rest of the band- to dive fully into unknown territory. Some could argue that Bitches Brew is a more experimental record than Live-Evil, and that may be a fair appraisal- however, in my mind, this album earns its place in the electric period by showing how this ensemble can warp the fabric of otherwise straightforward pieces into something completely new and exploratory.
To tie back into the Grateful Dead, I don't think it would be a stretch to call this Miles' "jam" album. Set up the main theme, then deconstruct until it hardly resembles the song. The power of Live-Evil comes from this dichotomy; mixing together the familiar and unknown, Miles and company conjure a new sound that would've seemed unholy back in 1971. It's easy to see how critics at the time would abhor this new direction, but the enduring legacy of Miles' electric period is undeniable proof of how important this type of music is.
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