In A Silent Way was the first album on which Davis actively courted the attention of rock fans — and got it. His 1969 quintet with saxophonist Wayne Shorter, keyboardist Chick Corea, bassist Dave Holland and drummer Jack DeJohnette performed at the Fillmore East and West, opening for acts like the Steve Miller Band and Neil Young and Crazy Horse, and they were well received. But that band never entered the recording studio, except as part of a larger ensemble. Instead, Davis released this two-track album with a looping structure and almost ambient feel, constructed as much by producer Teo Macero as by the musicians themselves. It broke all the rules of jazz, while never quite becoming rock, or “fusion” in the chops-obsessed, showoffy sense of that word.

The band included Shorter, Corea and Holland from the live unit, but Tony Williams was on drums, and there were two other keyboardists, Herbie Hancock and Joe Zawinul. The final addition to the band, and the biggest signal that something new was afoot, was guitarist John McLaughlin. From this point forward, every Miles Davis album would feature electric guitar as a co-lead voice. Still, In A Silent Way lives up to its title; it’s not an album of screaming solos. Instead, the music surges and eddies, the three keyboardists burbling around each other like the surface of the ocean at midnight as Williams maintains the world’s steadiest hi-hat rhythm. What solos there are — from Davis, Shorter and McLaughlin — have a subdued, bluesy quality ideally suited to the overall atmosphere. Only two-thirds of the way through the second track does Williams finally erupt into something close to a breakbeat. But what’s most interesting about the album is the looping structure of each track. Side One, “Shhh/Peaceful,” runs along, trancelike and beautiful, for 13 minutes, then just as it seems to be winding down, the first six minutes are repeated. Not like the band plays the head again and solos in a similar manner to what they did before — no, this is a straight cut ‘n’ paste job. (And believe it, when jazz critics in 1969 heard it, they went berserk. “That’s cheating!” was the general verdict.) Similarly, “In a Silent Way/It’s About That Time” should really be called “In A Silent Way/It’s About That Time/In A Silent Way,” since it moves from one thing to another and back again. In A Silent Way is a mood piece, perfect for late evenings or crisp fall days. It’s too active to be ambient music, but it lacks the cathartic explosiveness of jazz; it’s all simmer.