[Miles Davis and his band went on a European Tour in April 1982]. The first night's show [in Paris, at the Place de la Chatelaine, an opera house near Notre-Dame Cathedral] was tepid, as Miles laid back, soloing effectively but briefly. The audience response was tepid, as well. The second night was altogether different, however…He [Miles Davis] seized control of the stage and pushed the band, challenging them, driving them hard to new heights. The crowd loved it. The band came out to play "Jean-Pierre" as an encore, and that's when apparent disaster struck. They were about five minutes into the tune, when all stage power went down. The lights still worked, but the P.A. and amps had died. There's no silence like the sudden silence in the middle of a show, and the crowd began to murmur. Then out came Miles, walking to center stage. He picked up the plaintive melody again, and the crowd hushed. The acoustics were so good they could hear his unamplified trumpet in the upper seats. The band picked up the tune, Al Foster switching from stocks to brushes, Minu lightly tapping his congas. Marcus Miller picked up one of Bill Evans's saxes and began playing the bass line on it. The only musician you couldn't hear was Mike Stern. It was wonderful to see. The crowd was absolutely silent, straining to hear every note. The band played as if on tip-toe, everyone careful not to overpower Miles's quiet horn. It was an exercise in delicacy, yet it left plenty of room for tension and resolution in the call and response sequences. This was one of Miles's finest hours. He took a potential disaster, and turned it into triumph. When the last note sounded, the crowd exploded, jumping to their feet for a standing ovation. The band was as jubilant as the audience, flocking to Miles and high-fiving him. We all knew we had witnessed something rare and precious. << less