It’s almost unfair the way this stuff sneaks up on you, starting out with atypically laconic work by Bird, who works his way into this deceptively lazy Blues. Just when you’re lulled by the facility of it all, in the final few bars, well after Miles has done his apprentice’s work, the man lets it rip — but oh so subtly. You can hear the entire subsequent history of the saxophone in the space of about 25 seconds. There’s Lester. There’s Dexter. There’s Trane and Sonny and Ornette and Albert Ayler, all in a brilliant glimpse.