René Meets Miles

I learned of the recent death of the French pianist René Urtreger from an online post by the intrepid jazz writer Marc Myers; major media coverage was, unsurprisingly, nowhere to be found. Apart from his own European albums, Urtreger’s fine work can be heard on recordings by Lester Young, Chet Baker, Kenny Clarke, Stan Getz, and many other top-notch American jazz musicians. He may be best known, however, for his contributions to Miles Davis’s score for Elevator to the Gallows.

In late 1957, Urtreger, along with the outstanding American expatriate drummer Kenny Clarke, the bassist Pierre Michelot, and the tenor saxophonist Barney Wilen, accompanied Miles Davis as the trumpeter developed music for Elevator to the Gallows, the debut feature by director Louis Malle. Davis had accepted the offer to collaborate on the film while in Paris, combining the assignment with a short European tour alongside the same sidemen. It may be a persistent myth that Davis improvised the score during an initial screening of Elevator to the Gallows—he had, in fact, been working on loose sketches of musical themes for weeks beforehand—but the recording session itself appears to have come as a surprise to the other players. Davis introduced his basic ideas in the studio and then allowed controlled improvisation to guide the proceedings. The result was a series of magnificent solos from Davis, supported throughout by notable contributions from his collaborators, particularly Urtreger.

Apart from its moody beauty, the score remains fascinating for what it suggests about Davis’s artistic development. Its loose themes hint at the breakthrough of Kind of Blue in 1959, which found Davis working with modal forms in place of standard harmonic progressions. And his striking rapport with Urtreger anticipates his celebrated musical partnership with Bill Evans, which began the following year. Both Davis and Urtreger share an introverted lyricism that prizes economy and the musical le mot juste.

Perhaps the most remarkable aspect of the recording is the way Davis’s personality permeates every moment. Through musical authority and sheer charisma, he could repeatedly impose his singular vision on his collaborators, infusing a recording with a distinct emotional atmosphere. My favorite example, among many, is Kind of Blue. I’ve always marveled at how Davis was able to sustain the same mysteriously poetic mood across studio sessions held more than a month apart.

He achieved similar magic during the single Elevator to the Gallows session, drawing out the lyrical sensibilities of four musicians who had spent much of the tour playing driving, straight-ahead bop. The blues ballad “Générique” remains a stunning example of both Davis’s introspective yearning and Urtreger’s sympathetic support.

Why I never fully explored Urtreger’s own recordings may come down to a personal quirk. I tend to treasure moments of musical bliss, wary that their luster might be diminished by less inspired work. It’s a ridiculous habit—one that has kept me from gaining a fuller appreciation of an apparently accomplished musician. To make belated amends, I now tip my hat to Urtreger by highlighting his solo interpretation of “Laura.” Superbe!