“Shut the fuck up. Listen.”
What am I listening to?
“A bass player about to be fired.”
Which one this time?
“Dave Holland. Had to fire his limey ass. Played the notes wrong.”
Dave Holland was playing wrong notes?
“I didn’t say that, you simple motherfucker. He played the right notes, but he played ’em wrong.”
You have a unique way of leading a band.
“I tried to tell him. I said, ‘Dave, play like a cowboy in the supermarket.’ And he couldn’t. He’d play one thing, and it’d be a cowboy but not in the supermarket. Maybe in the post office or something. Played another, and now he’s in the supermarket, but he sure ain’t no fucking cowboy. Boy just couldn’t understand basic fucking instructions”
“Besides, I couldn’t stand that accent. Sounded like a queer. Wife sounded like a queer, too.”
I’m just gonna say “okay” again because I have no response to that.
“When I was doing Bitches Brew, John McLaughlin made the date. Came in here with his guitar. Motherfucker could play, man. So I told him, ‘John, play like a genius just punched you in the eye,’ and I punched him in the eye. That track became Miles Runs The Voodoo Down. That was a man who could take direction.”
You did like hitting people.
“Motherfuckers became punched. Let’s leave it at that.”
“Miles, what do you want on your tofu dog?”
“Don’t bring that white bullshit near me. Put your tofu up your ass.”
“They’re delicious, Miles. And good for the earth!”
“Fuck the earth, fuck you, and fuck tofu. Don’t I know you?”
“We shared a bill three years ago, when I was 29.”
“Been a rough three years, motherfucker.”
“Three years your time. Like, forever ago in the reality of my photograph.”
“This all some white people bullshit I’ve gotten involved with.”
“Oh, yeah. White as hell and bullshit as all get out.”
“Don’t make no fucking sense whatsoever.”
“Nope. You want ketchup on your tofu dog?”
“You shot the tofu!”
“Probably tastes better now, motherfucker.”