Album Review: "Somethin' Else" by Cannonball Adderley & Miles Davis
Man, if jazz had a heartbeat, Somethin' Else would be it. Released in 1963 under Blue Note’s Masterworks Series, this album feels less like a record and more like a smoky late-night hangout with legends. You’ve got Cannonball Adderley blowing his alto sax like he's telling you secrets, Miles Davis dropping trumpet lines that cut straight to your soul, and an all-star crew backing them up—Paul Chambers on bass, Art Blakey smashing drums, Bill Evans tickling keys—it’s just… wow. Like, how do you even put something this good into words?
Let me tell ya about two tracks that stuck with me long after the needle lifted off the vinyl. First up is “Autumn Leaves.” Now, I ain’t gonna lie—this one gutted me. It starts slow, almost hesitant, like someone walking through falling leaves at dusk. Then Miles comes in, and suddenly it’s not just music anymore; it’s memory itself. His trumpet whispers these fragile notes, and for a second, I swear I could smell autumn air again—the crispness, the chill, everything. And don’t get me started on Hank Jones’ piano work here. He doesn’t play so much as he breathes life into every chord. By the time Cannonball joins in, it’s like watching fireworks explode across a dark sky. Pure magic.
Then there’s “Somethin’ Else,” the title track. Oh man, this tune is pure swagger bottled up and poured out over five minutes of perfection. Cannonball owns this one—he sounds like he’s grinning while playing, which makes you grin too. The rhythm section (shoutout to Sam Jones and Jimmy Cobb) locks in so tight they might as well be glued together. But what really gets me? Miles’ solo. Dude barely needs to try, and yet every note lands like a punch to the chest—but in the best way possible. This song reminds me why hard bop isn’t just a style—it’s a vibe, a feeling, a whole damn attitude.
What strikes me most about Somethin' Else isn’t just its technical brilliance or star-studded lineup. It’s how personal it feels. These cats weren’t just making music—they were living it. Every track drips with emotion, whether it’s joy, longing, or just plain cool confidence. Listening to it now, decades later, it still feels alive, like it’s happening right in front of you.
And honestly? That last thought kinda freaks me out. How does something from 1963 sound fresher than half the stuff getting dropped today? Maybe we should ask RVG, who mastered this thing, but I doubt even he has an answer. All I know is, when those final notes fade away, you’re left sitting there thinking, “Damn, did that really just happen?” Yeah, it did. And trust me, you won’t forget it anytime soon.
