5.0 + Thanks, Thom Yorke, for turning me on to this record in 2001. It took about a dozen listens before I understood it — at first it mostly sounded like throwing jazz instruments down flights of stairs. Now I appreciate it as a soundtrack for a fever dream. Miles Davis’s sparse and echoey trumpet takes on an eerie, menacing and strangely majestic quality, especially when contrasted with clouds of creeping electric piano lines and muted, splashy drums.