On December 4, 2024 I attended an extraordinary audio and musical event.
Acoustic Sounds/Analogue Productions has reissued a set of long-neglected tracks by the Miles Davis Quintet in a new album called Birth of the Blue, as it features a set of songs performed by the group before recording the legendary Kind of Blue, the most storied jazz album of all time. I’ll leave it to Rudy Radelic to go more in-depth into the album elsewhere in this issue. Here I want to focus more on the experience of the event. And what an experience it was.
Briefly, the classic quintet of this era featured Miles Davis on trumpet, with Bill Evans playing piano, John Coltrane and Cannonball Adderley on saxes, Paul Chambers on bass, and Jimmy Cobb behind the drums. The six tracks on Birth of the Blue were recorded at Columbia Records’ 30th Street studio in 1958 and until now have only appeared on half-baked compilations. As the liner notes point out, these stellar performances total only 32 minutes and were considered too short for an entire album, and then when Kind of Blue came out, they were eclipsed by that towering masterpiece.
Miles Davis, Birth of the Blue, album cover.
I had long wanted to go to a Japanese-style jazz kissa. When I got the invite to the Acoustic Sounds event, which featured a listening party for Birth of the Blue at downtown Manhattan venue All Blues Musiquarium NYC, there was no way I was going to miss it. The album would be played, and Acoustic Sounds founder Chad Kassem would be on hand to talk about the making of Birth of the Blue, along with author Ashley Kahn (who wrote the liner notes) and historian Steve Berkowitz.
I walked up to the doorway of All Blues and the only indication I got that I was in the right location were a few albums placed in the window. Once I walked through the door any doubt vanished – a huge pair of JBL studio monitors was inset into the wall behind the bar, accompanied by several pieces of vintage McIntosh gear, and rows of LPs. All Blues is separated into two halves – the bar area and the listening space, which is separated by a curtain.
The atmosphere and demeanor of the staff let me know that this was a place for serious listening for connoisseurs of jazz. As All Blues’ website states, “we’re committed to crafting an atmosphere where music and listening rightfully belong together. As we strive to create an environment where music takes center stage, we kindly invite our guests to let the music do the talking. Allow the music to be the conversation. Listen, appreciate, and immerse yourself in the elevated audio experience we’ve crafted for you.” (Though the atmosphere in the bar area is a little looser, you are expected to be respectful.)
I was ushered into the listening area. The lighting was subdued, and there were maybe 30 or so seats. Because of scheduling confusion on my part, I quietly walked in while the music was already playing…
And couldn’t believe I was looking at a rare JBL Paragon at the front wall. I had only seen one in pictures. The Paragon, introduced in 1957 and one of the most striking objects of audio design ever created, was flanked by a pair of imposing JBL Hartsfield speakers, unmistakably identifiable by their gold-colored horizontal “acoustic lens” louvers for their high-frequency compression drivers. The electronics were vintage McIntosh and Marantz tube gear, including a Mac MC275 power amp and a fabled Marantz 7C preamp. There were two vintage EMT turntables in the DJ booth.
I thought: this place is hard-core. My kind of place. A shrine to jazz and vintage gear and sound. A loving recreation of a time and an atmosphere and a sound of when the music was first created, brought forward to the present day.
Both the JBL Paragon and Hartsfield speakers were playing at the same time, defying conventional “rules” about speaker setup. Irrelevant. The sound was captivating, with so much presence for each of the musicians and the overall feel of a band playing together that if you closed your eyes, you really did get the sense they were there performing for you.
Forget about all the audiophile standards of imaging, soundstaging, blah, blah blah, blah blah. There was a palpability, a sense of dynamic ease and power, and a liquidity to the tone and texture that just felt right. I didn’t care that the imaging wasn’t laser-pinpoint or the tubes might have imparted a warmth to the sound. Check that – why on Earth wouldn’t I want to listen to a system that sounded warm and inviting? At the last session of the night, which I stayed for because I wanted to bask in the music as much as I could, I was able to move around to different listening seats in the room to get a multiple perspective on the sonic presentation. I wound up sitting dead center, up close, eyes closed, head bopping. Some seats in the venue are optimal, but even when I was right in front of the left speaker I still felt like I was there in the room with Miles’ trumpet and Evans’ piano.
It made me re-think my entire perspective on modern-day versus vintage equipment. This system conveyed a sense of being there realism that was spooky. I’m hardly the first writer to suggest this, but maybe attributes like tonal balance, dynamic slam and harmonic texture are much more important than things we audiophiles fixate on all too much, like detail and “transparency” and pinpoint imaging. Realistically, improvements in audio technology have been made since then…but it’s amazing how much the designers and companies and recording engineers of the vintage era got right.
After my sublime experience at All Blues, I was actually more than a little afraid to listen to the Birth of the Blue LP on my home system, concerned that I’d be disappointed, so I put it off for a week. When I finally listened, my worries went away. This is a wonderful-sounding record of extraordinary music, and it sounded excellent on my system.
But still…
I can’t wait to go back to All Blues. To hear that era of jazz on that lovingly-assembled vintage system in that atmosphere of love and devotion to the music…it’s just magic.
