Posthumous Releases in a Postmodern Era: Rubberband Flung into the Future

by Faith Malicdem

Does releasing an edited posthumous musical work diminish its essence?

Miles Davis’s LP Rubberband, released on Sept. 6th, 32 years after it was recorded at the Ameraycan Studios in Los Angeles. Producers Randy Hall, Zane Giles, and Davis’ nephew, Vince Wilburn Jr., all worked to complete the album, adding modern components to the tracks in hopes of doing Davis’s original work some justice.

Rubberband was recorded in the midst of Davis’ transition from Columbia Records to Warner Bros., only to be shelved as his 1986 LP Tutu signaled a new era of Davis’s repertoire. Tutu championed the synth accents and novel electronic soundscapes that highlighted popular ‘80s music, while the original recordings of Rubberband’s tracks honed in on Davis’s incorporation of  traditional funk and soul for the first time in his career since the infamous release of On the Corner in 1972.

However, Hall, Giles and Wilburn Jr.’s revived rendition of Rubberband seemingly stands alone, apart from Davis’s distinct sound. It exhibits a plethoric melting pot of reggae, funk and jazz with additional elements of updated technological mixing. Modern R&B and soul artists Lalah Hathaway, Medina Johnson and Ledisi were also brought in to contribute their voices to in place of Davis’s intended featured artists: virtuoso jazz performer Al Jarreau and staple disco artist Chaka Khan. Davis may have intended to take risks with the album, but would he have wanted it to be reminiscent of the 1980’s, much like Tutu? 

I like to think Rubberband acted as a stepping stone for Davis to prop himself upon before tackling Tutu—especially after being under the impression that the unreleased album would be a collection of raw, unedited Beach Boys/Dorinda Morgan Session-esque tracks. I looked forward to it being a peek into Davis’s experimental musical processes. But the album’s producers delved into the project thinking otherwise.

In an interview with Rolling Stone, Wilburn Jr. spoke for the trio of producers.

“I think he would have been proud of the evolution. We tried to keep it in the vein of the Eighties, sprinkling in spices and rhythms, while keeping Miles’ stamp on it. He was all about evolution. I think he would have dug the progression of the music.” 

Perhaps Vince Wilburn Jr. took on the project to honor his uncle’s unfinished work— to bring life to what could have been. That being said, I think fans of Miles Davis would have appreciated untouched recordings, much like John Coltrane’s Both Directions at Once: The Lost Album, which gained traction amongst proponents of free jazz because of its untainted content. The act of releasing Coltrane’s last album in and of itself breathed life back into the late saxophonist’s repertoire and recalled the musical influence Coltrane spearheaded in his time, and in the decades following. 

Because Rubberband advertises an era of risk and change rather than reprising Davis’s sound, one would expect the release of the original tracks at the very least. This would allow listeners to appreciate both the uncut and modern interpretation of the Davis tunes. Although a Rubberband EP was released in 2018, featuring the original “Rubberband” track alongside revamped renditions, the other nine tracks’ raw origins are left unheard. Unforgettable, Natalie Cole’s virtual duet with Nat King Cole, sold over five million units because it upheld the original song’s novelty. Listeners were reminded of her father’s warm-textured voice, and were able to receive the song’s meaning in a new context. Fans could then refer back to the original recording and appreciate the separate entities for what they are. The father-daughter cover has remained unforgettable in a positive regard ever since. 

As much as I do respect Hall, Giles, and Wilburn Jr.’s execution of the production and release of the album, hearing an uncut, unedited and semi-remastered version of Rubberband’s tracks would have rounded out the concept of the anticipated lost album. When it comes to putting an unreleased piece of art into the world posthumously, it is vital to accredit and uphold its essence, even if that means leaving the work as is, with loose ends untied and open for audiences’ interpretation.