Miles

The unmistakable voice, whether he was talking or blowing. The swagger, before folk even knew what swagger was. So sure was he of his magic that this black warlock would turn his back on those who came to listen, those enraptured by his sound, his one-sided conversation in which no words were spoken. They would listen to the sounds the way one watches smoke rise from the tip of a burning cigarette, smoke and sound rising freely, mystically, beautifully, like spontaneous art guided by some unseen hand. Again--beautiful. Cool. Cool because he made it so, just by virtue of his being. He took what some thought was dying and breathed new life into it, he brought darkness back, blotting out the light, and then threw up his hands and said, simply, 'So what'.

He is the essence of creativity, he is the essence of swagger, his name itself synonymous with revolution in the form of sound. He is the essence of Negro spirituals sung by our teary-eyed ancestors. He is the attitude behind the arrogance of Hip Hop, he is the sweet high note that no one will ever hit quite like he did.

Miles.

Miles

Not was...is.

There will only ever be but one, and we will have him, in sound and spirit, forever.

MILES.