THE ELECTRIC MILES

In this feature, The Times’ pop-music writers spotlight out-of-the-way albums of special merit.

Artist: Miles Davis.

Record: “In a Silent Way” (Columbia).

History: Davis’ landmark 1969 album (recently released in digitally re-mastered form on vinyl and CD) marks the point where the trumpet icon began exploring the electric sound that spawned the jazz-rock fusion genre, splitting the jazz world into warring camps. Davis had released a string of albums with the great acoustic group that was widely hailed as the “classic quintet” (Davis, Wayne Shorter, Herbie Hancock, Ron Carter and Tony Williams), but he disbanded that group in 1968 and, increasingly intrigued by the soul and rock explorations of Sly Stone and Jimi Hendrix, began incorporating electric instruments on his “Miles in the Sky” and “Filles de Kilimanjaro” albums. On “In a Silent Way” he took the full plunge and never turned back. The lineup--Josef Zawinul, Chick Corea and Hancock on keyboards, Shorter on sax, Williams on drums, Dave Holland on bass and John McLaughlin on guitar--reads like a Who’s Who of fusion trailblazers. The then-unknown McLaughlin’s presence on the album quickly became part of jazz lore: He flew into New York from England to join Williams’ Lifetime group and wound up in the studio recording this watershed album the next day.

Sound: Brian Eno and Robert Fripp have done plenty of theorizing on ambient music, but “In a Silent Way” is the ultimate example of environmental music that stimulates as it soothes. The album evokes an atmosphere of mysterious wonder that presages the ethereal side of early Weather Report, as well as the full-fledged fusion sound Davis introduced in 1969 on “Bitches Brew.” In this pre-synthesizer era, the keyboard triumvirate uses electric pianos and organ to create an eerily beautiful, 3-D jungle. McLaughlin hadn’t yet become infatuated with his supersonic scale runs, and his bluesy playing leaves plenty of open space. Holland’s steady bass riffs give the music an accessible anchor, and Williams generates amazing propulsion using little more than cymbals and rim shots. The unhurried tempos, constant shifts in dynamics and multiple instrumental textures create a sympathetic backdrop for Davis’ unmistakable trumpet. He’s assertive and brassy on “It’s About That Time,” wistful and yearning on the title track. Characteristically, he makes each note count for maximum emotional effect.