One thing I've learned this year about jazz is that her inspirations are multifold. Had you asked me in January, I would've guessed that most jazz compositions are wholly original: some meticulously crafted by musical geniuses; others perfectly extemporized by true virtuosos. Turns out, that's not even close to true; the jazz smelters hunger voraciously for musical ore, and they care little of the exact provenance: American opera is as good a source as Brazilian rhythms. In keeping with that vaunted tradition, the centerpiece of this week's album is a jazz cover of Concierto de Aranjuez, a 1939 guitar concerto composed by Joaquín Rodrigo.

In fact, let's dedicate this week to the Rodrigo piece and its descendants, because there's a fascinating musical evolution here that is easy to trace. We begin, naturally, with the original composition: I started by listening to this performance, starring John Williams.¹ It's an interesting piece: when the orchestra is in charge, we're firmly in classical territory (that I would struggle to discern from any other twentieth-century composer), but of course the soloist infuses Spanish guitar that I personally wouldn't typically associate with the symphony. (In fact, "infuse" must be too weak a term; surely this piece helped define that Platonic notion of "Spanish guitar" at which I am lamely grasping.) If you like the more lively first and third movements, enjoy them while you can—as we'll soon see, it's the second movement that proves to be especially influential among later musicians.

Now that we're acquainted with the 1939 composition, jump forward twenty years, where we find an established Miles Davis in the unenviable position of needing to follow up his monumental release from earlier in 1959, Kind of Blue. Fortunately, a friend of Davis passed him a recording of Concierto de Aranjuez, and Gil Evans was on-hand to rearrange it for him. The resulting version—released on Sketches of Spain—presents a bold, imposing vision of the second movement. Overall I find it less stiff than the original: presumably facing fewer formal constraints, Davis and Evans amp up the drama with forceful percussion and wide dynamic range. But even with those embellishments, the overall piece still has a strong classical character to my ear; I see it as more at home in the concert hall than in a jazz club—I suppose that's why it's often cited as an example of third stream. One thing Davis and Evans did not do was contact Rodrigo in any way before releasing their cover; apparently Rodrigo only learned of it after a friend played the album for him, and was furious (though he later came to begrudgingly accept the massive additional exposure this version brought to his original work, not to mention whatever fat cheques came in from the later legal settlement).

With all that, we're now finally ready to place this week's album in context: Concierto, by Jim Hall, released in 1975. I was stoked to see Hall headlining an album: we've heard from him several times before, but only as a sideman—based on what we've learned of Rodgrio's composition, we should all be salivating at the prospect of a guitarist like Hall giving his interpretation. Indeed, Hall brings the goods, assisted by a backing band that includes some names you might have heard before—do Paul Desmond or Chet Baker ring a bell‽ (I hope I'm not the only one getting déjà vu.) In terms of mood, I find Hall's version to be quite different from either the original or Davis's cover: it's certainly cooler and more relaxed than Sketches of Spain; it's not nearly as in-your-face with its dynamics. I also find it has a fundamentally jazzier character: we've really shed all classical formalities at this point, but without sacrificing that poignant, haunting melody.

For all that beauty though, I will confess that this album didn't hook me off the bat. Perhaps that is temperamental: I have made it clear previously that I am not a man of subtleties. As such, I sometimes need time to warm up to cool jazz, as it were—I wouldn't say Concierto astounds or astonishes on the first play (unlike, e.g., Birds of Fire), but subsequent listens begin to reveal the great splendor of this garden.

Well, that takes us to 1975, but the story of Concierto de Aranjuez doesn't end with Hall's Concierto: Wikipedia lists dozens of covers and references, many of which are jazz-tinged. Some of my personal favourites include:

• Buckethead's version, which is predictably skull-melting (in the best possible way). Although technically he was covering Sketches of Spain, not Rodrigo directly, so this is a cover of a cover… it's Aranjuez all the way down.
• Herb Alpert put a spin on it in his 1979 album, Rise, titled "Aranjuez (mon amour)." This one is way more club-dance-funk-y, at times getting closer to the Middle East than Spain—it also quotes the first movement, not just the second.

I must say, I sure am glad that Rodrigo failed to block the release of Davis's cover of Concierto de Aranjuez. Yes, creators deserve to be paid for their work, but once a piece of music like this is published, it takes on a life of its own: clearly it has inspired, influenced, and moved so many other musicians, who then proffered their own interpretations in an ongoing, worldwide conversation—I have little sympathy for those who would prematurely stifle that discourse for a miserly accounting of royalties. ¡Música para todos!

Favourite track: Concierto de Aranjuez²