Betty Davis in memorium

 Harrumph. Coming back to my blog because another significant person has died. 

Betty Grey Mabry Davis. Mademoiselle Mabry. Backseat Betty.

For many years I knew very little about Betty. (Come to think of it, I still don't know that much.) I'd read John Szwed's excellent biography about Miles Davis, most of which I've forgotten. Betty was Miles' second wife, responsible for updating his wardrobe and getting him to listen to Sly Stone and Jimi Hendrix. Betty helped usher in the Miles Electric period. Oh, and Miles helped to get her recorded as a singer.

These things are factual but an unfair simplification for both parties. In Miles' case, something was going to shake up in his music eventually, regardless of Betty's influence. Miles was restless in that respect. He was always shifting, always probing. If you generally know his body of work but were to listen to a recording of his you hadn't heard before, there's a good chance you could pin it down to a 2-3 year period. The idea of jazz practices was stretched nearly beyond recognition with his classic Shorter/Hancock/Carter/Williams quintet. Where do you go from there? Reductionism was one way Miles went. Simpler materials, played collectively. I don't recall the exact quote, but I read one critic's comment that Bitches Brew reaffirmed jazz as a collective activity. 

As for Betty: first of all, what a startling looking woman. I find myself a bit transfixed when I see images of her. Besides the afro, well...beautiful face, doe-eyed, African and Native American and I don't know what else. In some pictures she looks like she's 3/4 legs. 

I'll write something that's been increasingly clear in recent years: this was a major artist in her own right. 

I only really listened to her music when I picked up a copy of the relatively recently issued LP, The Columbia Years 1968-69. There had been a buzz about these unearthed sessions. I was curious, and with money in my pocket one day at The Attic, I bought a copy. 

Much of it is quite good. "Politician Man" hits pretty hard in a Hendrix kind of way. Betty's a good singer, on pitch but based on these sessions, not a huge range. I thought 2/3 of the record was a solid period rock/soul statement, with the remaining 1/3 good but not amazing.

A few years ago, I met Danielle Maggio. She at the time was working on her doctoral dissertation about Betty's music. She knew Betty personally. In our conversation, I said I had bought this record and enjoyed it. She told me Betty didn't understand the fuss, these were demo tapes. 

More recently, I bought a reissue LP of Betty's first released LP. WOW. This was, as the saying goes, a horse of a different color. The Columbia sessions have some really great moments, but it's much more of its time. It is no cliche that Betty Davis was ahead of its time.

This record burns. She burns. Betty sings, coos, shouts, groans. The songs are (largely) great. They smack you in the face. They're sexually explosive years before Prince. (Controversy, indeed.) She pretty much wrote it all, sang, produced. And it doesn't sound like an extension of the 1960s. This was new and remains so.

Yes, I love this record. And I admire Betty, in ways that I can't express. This was one creative, brave, talented human.

I wanted to meet Betty, once I knew she was local to Pittsburgh. I just wanted to say, hello, I'm pleased to meet you. I wouldn't expect to talk about her music, but would have if she brought it up. I wouldn't have hit her up for a gig. I just wanted to be in her presence. A first person witness to history.