A Tribute to Jack Johnson, the soundtrack to a movie nobody’s seen since it was new, is one of the hottest albums in Miles Davis’ discography. It’s made up of two side-long epics, “Right Off” and “Yesternow.” The former is the closest thing he ever recorded to straight-up rock; Billy Cobham’s backbeat, bolstered by teenaged bassist Michael Henderson, a recent recruit from Stevie Wonder’s touring band, is absolutely massive, and John McLaughlin’s guitar is pure snarling fury. When Davis enters, after two and a half minutes of almost headbanging groove, he takes one of the longest and most over-the-top solos of his career, blowing through an open horn rather than the mute he frequently favored, and unleashing long streams of outrageous high notes. It’s a display of pure macho power, totally unlike anything he’d ever done before. And that’s the whole band — no keyboardist, no saxophonist, just a three-piece rock ‘n’ roll trio and Davis taking the frontman’s role. Until about the 11-minute mark, when it fades down, leaving a second Davis there, playing an atmospheric, unaccompanied solo for three minutes or so, before the band fades back in and soprano saxophonist Steve Grossman gets his turn in the spotlight. Producer Teo Macero has a major role in shaping the music; he drops everything but Grossman’s sax and Henderson’s bass out for a long stretch, only gradually bringing the drums and guitar back in. Oh, and around the 15-minute mark, there’s an absolutely nerve-frying Farfisa organ attack courtesy of Herbie Hancock.

The album’s second track/half, “Yesternow,” is slower and more subdued, almost dubby. It, too, moves through multiple stages, and includes strings and a section of In a Silent Way. Its moodiness is the perfect counterpoint to the aggression of “Right Off.” These two tracks are totally unique within the Davis catalog. He’d never work with as stripped-down a band again, or play the trumpet with this much fire and fury. Indeed, beginning on his very next studio album, 1972’s On The Corner, he’d begin to use a wah-wah pedal like a mask, burrowing into the mix instead of playing a leader’s role. In some ways, A Tribute To Jack Johnson is a short detour; in other ways, it’s the end of a line. But however you characterize it, it’s a fantastic, heart-stopping record.