Recently I heard a smooth jazz trumpet star "do" . He captured Miles's distinctive muted tone, getting every note right, and, more surprisingly, even the spaces between. The trouble was that he left out everything that made Miles Miles: the vocalized inflections, the expression, the distortions, the bent notes and tones.
What he played was so colorless and without character that I was left to ponder the distinctions between homage, parody, and just plain-old theft.
The distinctions are particularly important because just about everybody is honoring Miles Davis these days, and they will continue to do so for a while: In time for what would have been his 81st birthday this month, there have been live celebrations (such as the "Four Generations of Miles" package at Iridium) and a new album in his memory by his longtime bassist, Ron Carter. There also are at least two new books, including "Dark Magus" (Backbeat Books), a memoir by Davis's son Gregory, and a worthy overview of his career and music, "It's About That Time: Miles Davis On and Off Record" ( Oxford University Press), by .
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