'Round About Midnight (1955, ***)
Recorded in 1955 with the classic Quintet (featuring John Coltrane and Paul Chambers), this features six unchallenging but listenable pieces, including takes on the classics "All of You" and "Bye Bye Blackbird." Trane would later produce a superior version of "Dear Old Stockholm" on his own.

Kind of Blue (1959, UK #70 [in 2001], *****)
Hell...this album improves exponentially with each listen. It's inspiring, it's stunning... a lot of music critics call it one of the best recordings of all time, if not the very best. They may be right. I've found, from multiple listens, that Blue is one of those truly rare creations that enthralls you regardless of how you concentrate. Whether I'm drawing, or working, or reading, or listening carefully, the complex melodies and emotion inspire and amaze me. Columbia's latest CD reissue is remixed to correct a flaw in the original recording session, and also features an alternate take of "Flamenco Sketches."

Sketches of Spain (1960, UK #190 [in 2001], **)
This is an incredibly influential piece (Kenny Wheeler and Mark Isham have obviously listened hundreds of times), but frankly I find it often dull. I hear the technical competence, but not enough emotion to keep me focussed. Or maybe I don't like traditional Spanish music. At all.

Miles Davis at Carnegie Hall (1962/1987/1998, ***)
On May 19, 1961, Miles performed some of his new pieces from Someday My Prince Will Come along with his current quintet (Kelly/Chambers/Cobb and saxophonist Hank Mobley) and support from the Gil Evans Orchestra. Miles is beginning to rebel against his current style here, being more daring with his solos with direct, confrontational gusto, and the mix isn't completely successful. The liner notes indicate some negative feelings about Mobley, but he sounds just fine to me. Portions of this show were first released on LP in 1962 and the remainders issued on a separate album 25 years later. This CD restores the show to its correct order for the first time.

Nefertiti (1968, ****)
Here's a super introduction to Miles. These six tracks were recorded in the summer of 1967, and most are propelled by Ron Carter's urgent bass. They're intriguing and challenging, but not threatening like some of his later fusion. Columbia's reissue adds four alternate takes, including a radically different version of "Pinocchio."

Miles in the Sky (1968, ***)
Tony Williams's drums take the spotlight in these four numbers, recorded in January and May 1968. "Stuff" is impossible to dislike, a powerful rhythmic thump that carries listeners along effortlessly for 17 minutes. Columbia's reissue adds lengthy alternate takes of two of the tracks.

In a Silent Way (1969, US #134, ***)
I think I'll agree that Bitches Brew is the first "broadside" of jazz fusion, but Mike Phillips is right that the revolution quietly begins here. With all the personnel who would define the sound throughout the 70s, including Corea, McLaughlin, Zawinul and Hancock, present here, Davis crafted a low-key, listenable pair of lengthy soundscapes. This will not challenge or frighten listeners like what would come later; it's smooth tempo, led by very simple drumming, laid-back, very intriguing music. You can listen to it at any level of concentration and hear something you'll like.

Live at the Filmore East: It's About That Time (2001, ***)
According to the liner notes, this performance (released more than three decades after its recording on March 7, 1970) featured the final appearance by Wayne Shorter in Miles's band, who were third-billed, opening for Steve Miller and for Neil Young in a pair of 45-minue sets. I really enjoy the percussion here particularly, with Dave Holland and Jack DeJohnette whipping a solid wall of thunder. This is a fine recording and welcome addition to the catalog, but I am more taken with some of the available 1972-75 recordings.

Bitches Brew (1970, UK #71, US #35, *****)
Not for the tame. Bitches Brew is almost disturbingly experimental and emotional. It's a bleak soundscape punctuated by horns that sound like ghosts. Bitches Brew divides listeners into love or hate camps more resoundingly than most albums. Its detractors are furious and vocal; its champions like myself are gobsmacked and often at a loss for words. It's not quite the sound of Miles on the attack. He would do that in concert throughout 1970. What he seemed to be shooting for here was the creation of a "direction in sound," doing new things and building landscapes for music. If that sounds pretentious, it's simply because I, as a critic, lack the ability to put into words the astonishing and breathtaking power that this music holds. Listen frequently and be prepared to visit new places each time.

Black Beauty: Miles Davis at Fillmore West (1977, ****)
What Bitches Brew had done in the studio, this astonishing and very challenging album did live in April 1970. There are no quarters given to the audience here, and listeners will find it impossible to concentrate on anything but the challenging rhythms within. Even comparatively traditional songs like "Willie Nelson" and the short take of "I Fall in Love Too Easily" are rough going. "Directions" and "Bitches Brew" require open minds or possibly drugs to digest. Prepare to be more challenged than by anything else in your collection.

Live-Evil (1971, US #125, ***)
This compilation of tracks recorded throughout 1970 would probably go down a lot smoother with novices than Black Beauty. That's not to say that this collection of thrilling fusion is tame, but rather the rhythms are not quite as threatening. The bulk of the album is from a December 1970 show at Washington's Cellar Door, but around 15 minutes of various improvs are from studio sessions in February and June of that year. Michael Henderson's furious bass, propelling "What I Say," lulls the listener into a regular vibe, and Miles's sonic attack, slightly more subtle in the December 1970 tracks, is engaging and insistent. John McLaughlin fans might be interested in this for his appearance; his intro to "Medley: Gemini/Double Image" is really weird and off-putting. This collection is definitely worth investigating.

On the Corner (1972, US #156, **)
Typically, whenever rock musicians such as Peter Gabriel, Ryuichi Sakamoto or Paul Simon expand their cultural horizons to include African tempos, they are applauded for their broad minds and approach to world music. When Miles tried it with this album, the jazz establishment turned on him in a huge way, not caring to judge the music -- it's not to my taste by any means, but I applaud the effort -- choosing instead to label Miles a sell-out. An aggressive, polyrythmic album with furious organs and wah-wah trumpet, it's meshed with multiple percussionists, and it's not the easiest record in the world to absorb. Miles didn't care who he offended with this one; the pathetic thing is that people were offended at all.

Dark Magus (1974, ***)
When Miles played Carnegie in 1961, it wasn't much like this. Dark Magus captures an astonishing performance that bears only the teeniest resemblance to anything you can call jazz. With a nine piece band growling and grooving with a tribal beat, this is more a fusion of funk and rock. It sounds like something Sly Stone and Jimi Hendrix might have cooked up together. This may be the least accessible entry to 1970s Miles. Approach with caution, but get ready for a roar.

Big Fun and Get Up With It (1974, US #179 [****] and 141 [***])
Two of the "odds-n-ends" collections from the period, these two-disc sets each feature eight songs recorded in 1969-1970 and 1972-74. During this period, Miles was provoking the jazz establishment as much as possible, with eleven-piece bands dressed in colorful, flashy fashions, with Miles himself often peering from behind his organ wearing mirrored sunglasses before lifting a trumpet for a staccato blast of dischord. He kept his band on the road for huge tours, not supporting an album like a rock act would do, but ducking into studios every so often to lay down some tracks. Fun is the superior of the two, and features his brilliant piece "Great Expectations." The original issue of Big Fun featured four 20+ minute pieces; the latest issue adds four others, previously compiled on The Complete Bitches Brew Sessions. Get Up With It, which was the final studio album released before Miles went into retirement, starts with the best of its numbers, a slow and mournful half-hour piece called "He Loved Him Madly" eulogizing Duke Ellington. The other jams tackle a variety of sounds and tones, from the African rhythms of "Maiysha" and "Mtume" to the harsh urban organs of "Rated X." Overall, they are both very interesting, but newcomers to 70s Miles might want to start with one of the albums recorded in one session.

Agharta (1975, US #168, ****)
Miles moved into retirement in 1975, but not before an astonishing pair of concerts in Japan on February 1 of that year. This is the afternoon show, nearly two hours of upbeat funk and driving fury. "Maiysha" first appeared as a studio recording on Get Up With It, and elements of "Prelude pt 1" recall "Rated X" from that same album.

Miles Davis & Quincy Jones: Live at Montreux (1993, ***)
At perhaps his final live show (correct me if I'm wrong), Miles paid tribute to the work he did in the late 1950s with Gil Evans in this one hour set with a huge concert jazz band conducted by Quincy Jones in the summer of 1991. Wallace Roney takes over on the solos, as Miles wasn't in his best of shape, and he died about three months after the show. This is an incredibly listenable look back at some of his best work, and a fitting conclusion to his awesome career.