Cartoline: With the hope that this Kind of Miles will spark new curiosity and interest in the History of Jazz: Video, Photo

It begins with a personal memory, “Kind of Miles” the show written and performed by Paolo Fresu, the news of Miles Davis’ death in a Santa Monica hospital, at the age of 65, on September 28, 1991, learned from the newspaper, on a dazzling late summer morning in Sardinia.

And it ends with a liberating final jam that represents perhaps the most spontaneous and engaging moment of the two hours. Between the two moments flows a show that has as its common thread the parallel story of Davis’ life and art and those of Paolo Fresu, who plays the dual role of narrator, at first a little modest then gradually more confident and convincing, and leader of a group that creates the instant soundtrack of the plot, composed of Dino Rubino on the piano, Marco Bardoscia on the double bass, Bebo Ferra on the guitar, Stefano Bagnoli and Christian Meyer on the drums, Federico Malaman on the electric bass and Filippo Vignato on the trombone and electronic effects.

The direction of Andrea Bernard and the production of the Teatro Stabile di Bolzano build an evocative scenic frame that uses a rich array of images on Miles, some generated by the physiological parameters of the musicians.

The story intersects Fresu’s first curiosity for jazz, encountered through the cassettes provided by a bandmate, and then obstinately practiced with the transcriptions of solos to the point of exasperating family and neighbors, with the main stages and turning points of Miles’ career, from “Round Midnight” to the quintets of the sixties, from “Kind of blue” to “Bitches Brew”, and the live music, songs written by Fresu for the occasion and interpretations of Davis classics (“Diane”, “Round Midnight”, a “My funny Valentine” turned into fusion, a fragment of “Call it anything”, “Time after time” among others), taken from the tracklist of the homonymous album recently released by Tuk, effectively underlines the various chapters. Essential to the band’s economy are the contribution of Vignato’s trombone that animates the contrapuntal game with the trumpet, the exuberant slapping bass of Federico Malaman, a session man recruited for the occasion, and the funky guitar of Bebo Ferra.

The two drum kits of Bagnoli and Meyer offer a show apart, culminating in a solo with the clapping of the hands on the legs. Fresu plays in his usual style of recent times, using the great skill he possesses, inclined to his more lyrical aspect and leaving aside the fire of the past.

The narration, which perhaps for jazz lovers tends to stiffen the more strictly musical aspect, is rich in poetic notations and anecdotes, from Miles’ unique voice that can be heard in various parts, to his passion for boxing and cars, from his arrest outside Birdland, to initiatives for the defense of African-American identity, up to the failed meeting at Umbria Jazz, with Fresu fleeing after the concert in front of the prospect of meeting his mentor encouraged by the organizer.

The most beautiful one, however, is the lesser known one, attributed to the saxophonist Ben Webster, about the singing that often hides behind the sound of great wind instrument players, such as Miles or Chet Baker.

In the middle of a solo Ben stops playing and the pianist asks him: “Maestro, why did you stop?”, and he: “I didn’t remember the words of the song anymore”. At the premiere of the show, hosted at the Teatro della Corte in Genoa, the beginning of a national tour, great enthusiasm and a full house.

With the hope that this “kind of Miles” will spark new curiosity and interest in the history of jazz.