Read Nas’ New Foreword to Miles Davis’ Autobiography

One of the greatest music memoirs of all time, Miles: The Autobiography, by Miles Davis and Quincy Troupe, is back on bookshelves to commemorate what would have been the trumpeter’s 100th birthday this year. Davis filled the book, originally published in 1989, with vivid tales of sex, drugs, and jazz, including jaw-dropping recollections of Charlie Parker, Billie Holiday, and John Coltrane, among others, as well as his own accounts of recording Birth of the Cool, Kind of Blue, In a Silent Way, Bitches Brew, and the other LPs that defined his career.

The reissued edition of the book comes with two new forewords, one by essayist Hanif Abdurraqib and another by hip-hop luminary Nas, whose father, jazz cornetist Olu Dara, ran in some of the same circles as Davis. But for Nas, it’s the shared DNA between jazz and rap music that interests him. “It’s our roots,” he writes. He also reflects on how Davis combatted racism, the musician’s artistry, and how he operated within the music business — stories Davis recounts in a book Nas calls “thrilling.”

Here is Nas’ full new foreword from Miles: The Autobiography, available to purchase now.

Many musicians were born. Miles was lightning that hit the planet on May 26, 1926.

His sound — pure, harmonic human expression — is timeless. Since I first heard his name in someone’s mouth, wonder and admiration surrounded it. The first time his music hit my ears, it felt like it belonged in the background of my life. The first time I saw him in a picture or on TV, it made sense to me that he would seem perfectly as black as the solar system, with a clear December-midnight skin tone.

Miles had won the world over before I got here. My mother and father shared a common appreciation for real music. My father, being a musician himself with a deep respect for Mr. Davis’ music, was most likely the one who introduced me to one of the world’s most fearless artists.

I later grew into all his music. It took me a while to understand what jazz was. I was too young, and my music of choice was hip-hop and popular Eighties hits. But through the years, I found Miles again, particularly his masterpiece album Kind of Blue.

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Miles and hip-hop share the same blood, sweat, and tears. The same struggles and triumphs. Hip-hop is heavily influenced by jazz music. It’s our roots. So many of our biggest songs have jazz samples in them.

Hip-hop and Miles are both innovative and extremely bold. Learning about his personal life was a whole different experience. His journey reflected the times and different eras he lived through. He faced discrimination head-on. He got bloody and received scars, but he kicked his elegant shoes through racism like it was trash on the streets.

When he was sharing his light with emerging giants, it was something to witness. He had those artists play in his band and gave them the spotlight at his shows. Onstage, Miles would sometimes turn to face his band, leaving the audience with incredulous expressions while his back faced the crowd. That makes me laugh every time I see it.

There are many highs and lows in the shark-infested entertainment business, and they weigh on artists in ways most wouldn’t imagine. But Miles made sure to preserve his soul. Some days were harder than others, and some of his pain was self-inflicted. He didn’t pretend to be something he wasn’t. He spoke his mind to whomever, whenever.

I sometimes ask myself, “How did he casually make music that made the world a better place to live in?” He’s my go-to when I want to chill. When I want to feel safe. He felt free to make the music he wanted to make. We can still learn a lot from him through his music, as well as his classic memoir.