excerpt from 'Miles To Go: The Lost Years: An Intimate Memoir of Life on the Road with Miles Davis' pp. 89 (153 words)

excerpt from 'Miles To Go: The Lost Years: An Intimate Memoir of Life on the Road with Miles Davis' pp. 89 (153 words)

part of

Miles To Go: The Lost Years: An Intimate Memoir of Life on the Road with Miles Davis

original language

urn:iso:std:iso:639:ed-3:eng

in pages

89

type

text excerpt

encoded value

We were doing shows at the Osaka Grand, which served as both hotel and concert hall--a great convenience. Miles played masterfully, squeezing so much emotion out of his horn that I wept, and I wasn't the only one. When he would finish a solo, there would be silence from the audience, as if they were stunned into immobility by its beauty. After a long wait, they would slowly begin to applaud, then gradually the sound would grow and grow, until the house shook with the noise. They truly heard what he was saying, what the band was doing. What a feeling to be validated by an audience that hears and understands.

Miles, of course, shrugged off the applause, refusing as always to take a bow or do an encore. I tried to get him to take a bow, but he wouldn't.

"You've always got to leave them wanting a little more," he said.

appears in search results as

excerpt from 'Miles To Go: The Lost Years: An Intimate Memoir of Life on the Road with Miles Davis' pp. 89 (153 words)

1430580625532:

reported in source

1430580625532

documented in
Page data computed in 304 ms with 1,640,272 bytes allocated and 35 SPARQL queries executed.