Reckon | The Whole World's a Stage

"Civilization is entirely the product of phonetic literacy. As it dissolves with the electronic revolution, we rediscover a tribal integral awareness that manifests itself in a complete shift in our sensory lives....This new electronic environment itself constitutes an inner trip, collectively, without benefit of drugs. The impulse to use hallucinogens is a kind of empathy with the electronic environment." - Marshall McLuhan

Chris

Reckon

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On Miles Davis, Fast Cars and .357 Magnums

totallyepic:

Sometimes something so perfect comes on shuffle that you just have to take the time to absorb the whole album. Today it happened to come in the form of “Miles Runs the Voodoo Down” off Miles Davis’ Bitches Brew.

It makes me miss my days working at DownBeat magazine and having access to the photo archive that dated back to the 1930s and featured hundreds of published and unreleased photos of every jazz legend from the last century, including original prints of “A Great Day in Harlem,” which was one the driving plot arcs in Steven Spielberg’s film The Terminal.

One of my last projects at the magazine was editing the Miles Davis Reader, which ended up being a great send-off for me because I got to spend four weeks poring over every news story, profile and review the magazine had ever run on Miles Dewey Davis III and reading about just how crazy the dude was. You could talk for days about his drug use or his womanizing, but some of his most interesting stories involved him and cars.

Davis had an affinity for flashy cars and trouble seemed to follow him whenever he was in one. While it’s been rumored that he cruised around in his Lamborghini Miura with a .357 magnum under the seat and enjoyed outrunning the fuzz with people sitting shotgun, Davis was arrested in 1970 on weapons charges when he was sitting in his red Ferrari and an officer noticed he had accented his ensemble of a turban, white sheepskin coat and snakeskin pants with a pair brass knuckles. One might have thought brass knuckles might not be enough protection, considering he had been shot in the hip while sitting in his car less than a year earlier in an alleged extortion plot. Two years after his arrest he crashed his Lambo and snapped both of his ankles, leaving him hospitalized for eight weeks and with a bum hip that required two surgeries and kept him down from 1975-81, which is when he developed a hankering for pain pills.

Pretty epic stuff for a dude whose day job was blowing into a trumpet.