

Gregory is fighting for his piece of Miles’s legacy, metaphorically and legally. “This is not a Daddy Dearest.” Nonetheless, Daddy sounds like a terrible motherfucker. “I love my father dearly,” Gregory says, chatting on the phone with the Voice. And though Gregory abhors that phrase specifically, Dark Magus has its own particularly lurid moments.

(Actually, let’s do the Charlie Murphy version.) Critical, literary odes to Miles-his own autobio especially-certainly don’t skimp on the details of his mercurial, hostile “Prince of Darkness” persona.
#SAFEROOM HOUSE OF DARKNESS PERSONA 5 MOVIE#
You better hope the imminent Miles biopic isn’t the same goopy Oscar-bait treatment Johnny Cash and Ray Charles endured, or you’ll spend three hours watching Chris Tucker or Charlie Murphy or whoever stomp around a movie screen, abusing women, drugs, and evidently, his son Gregory in equal measure. But in this case, he’s talking about cocaine and/or heroin. Gregory Davis, Miles’s firstborn son, also hints at that Miles-trying-to-make-it-feel-like-the-first-time phenomenon in his own new bioĭark Magus: The Jekyll and Hyde Life of Miles Davis. “I’m always looking for it, listening and feeling for it, though. On page 10, Miles describes his first exposure to Dizzy Gillespie and Charlie Parker-”I’ve come close to matching the feeling of that night in 1944 in music, when I first heard Diz and Bird, but I’ve never quite got there,” he writes. As in “Sarah Vaughn was there also, and she’s a too” or “Goddamn, those motherfuckers were terrible.” That’s page 9. Thus begins Miles, the (arguably) definitive Miles Davis autobiography, co-authored by Quincy Troupe and unleashed in 1989, 400-plus pages of warmly recalled terrible motherfuckers. The greatest feeling I ever had in my life-with my clothes on-was when I first heard Diz & Bird together in St.
