“…the music just stopped, it didn’t finish” (107).
I loved Bitches Brew the very first time I heard it. I had never heard anything like it. I’ve since listened the album a zillion times. I’ve never bothered to study the music or tried to figure out what in the world is going on. I’ve simply enjoyed the queer sounds, the thrilling movement, the images and shapes the music conjures. Reading Grella’s 33 1/3 entry on this album was enlightening and accessible. He does a remarkable job of explaining what the hell is going on on this album, and it adds to, rather than subtracts from, my enjoyment of it.
For me, one of the most helpful explanations Grella provides is a discussion of the album’s time, or more accurately, timelessness.
“But listening to the album creates expectations that are never fulfilled, because underneath what it seems to sound like, and how many units it moved, there’s so much more. The album regards the idea of musical resolution—reaching a final point—as irrelevant” (104).
“Miles was, among other things, specifically making funk: he wanted the rhythms to drive everything. The melodies and harmonies are not determined by rhythm, so much as rhythm is unusually prominent, while melody and harmony seem secondary—which is actually an illusion. Bitches Brew places everything on the same sonic level, and Western music of almost every kind, especially popular music, is made almost entirely with a hierarchy of values between soloist (or lead voice of some kind) and ensemble that came to be seen as a de facto requirement” (104).
“The rhythms also have no explicit relationship to African music: they are the sound of African-American rhythms mediated through history and geography by Cuba, the West Indies, New Orleans, the Midwest, and New York City. However, the group concept is closer to African music, with the rhythms built by adding beats on top of each other rather than subdividing in the Western manner.” What is more subtle, but profound, is that by using rhythm, pulse, and harmonies—and tape composition—that by design did not resolve, Miles was organizing time: and both form and time are conjoined in the music. Miles’ push to move form away from the demands of resolution and finality was a push into a different, and for American listeners, unfamiliar concept about time” (104-105).
“Time does not fly off into the future: it marks cyclical events…Non-Western harmonies change through the duration of a piece of music, but they are not made to function as a device that gets the piece from the beginning to the end. Instead they stay steady—drone—or cycle until the event is finished… The experience of non-timeline music is that of timelessness. Time is passing, as always, but the music is not marking that passage. It moves in a circle, returning to the same point over and over again. There is no implicit logic that what you are hearing in the moment will, structurally and inevitably, lead to something else. The listener’s experience of passing time is separate from the music’s measured duration” (106-107).