JazzWax

Sonny Rollins Takes a Ride

A couple of months ago, I asked Sonny Rollins if he would be 
willing to visit his old neighborhood in Harlem with me from the back of a comfortable car for the Wall Street Journal. His 80th birthday was coming (September 7). So was a much heralded concert at New York's Beacon Theater (September 10). Now was an ideal time to reflect and look ahead. [Photo by John Abbott]

Sonny agreed.

So several Sundays ago, Sonny and I traveled uptown in a Lincoln Town Car. For the next two hours, we visited three different areas of Harlem, with Sonny commenting on the places and childhood events that helped shape him as an artist. He had never made such a personal trip with a writer before, and the result appears in today's "Greater New York" section of the Wall Street Journal. You'll find it online here. [Photo by John Abbott]

During our ride uptown, Sonny and I talked about his 1995 performance at the Beacon Theater and the struggles he encounters when trying to give an audience a powerful performance. There wasn't room for the following conversation in my Wall Street Journal article, but here it is as a bonus:

JazzWax: Did you enjoy playing at New York's Beacon Theater in 1995?
Sonny Rollins: Actually, I wasn’t happy with my performance. I don't blame anyone but myself. When the curtain goes up, it’s up to Sonny Rollins in terms of how I sound and what I'm doing. It’s my responsibility to be Sonny Rollins. I always try to make sure that is my No. 1 priority—making sure I sound good. Whenever I play, I take responsibility. I’m old school. It’s my job to satisfy the public.

JW: How do you do that?
SR: By practicing hard every day. I also compose every day when I can.

JW: Why?
SR: I’m trying to get a certain perfection in my music, in my playing, in my performance, in my ability to make sense and ultimately to satisfy my audiences. It's all of these things. I am an artist seeking perfection.

JW: What has to happen for this to take place?
SR: Of course, my embouchure has to be in great shape and my reed has to be just right, but I also have to be in a good place mentally. When that happens, hopefully the audience reacts. If I'm happy, Marc, people will react. [Photo by John Abbott]

JW: But don't your audiences always react positively?
SR: To an extent. But I have stringent standards for myself that they don’t know about. Once I satisfy some of my demands, they will be even happier. That's when a performance comes together magically. There’s no explaining it. Every concert doesn’t come out the way I would have liked it to. Even the ones that people did think came out well, I sometimes wasn't happy with them. Every time I walk on stage I'm trying to create an extraordinary event.

JW: What are you doing when such events happen?
SR: Who knows why these things happen? That’s the unknown that makes music great. It's not something you can quantify all the time. That’s the beauty of the arts. You have to know when you did that stroke that opened up a new vista for you. You don’t know why you did it or how. You enter a place creatively and it happens. [Photo by Jamie-James Medina]

JW: So when you’re not feeling a specific way on stage, the odds are greater that you're not going to produce what you want?
SR: I would think so. There are times when negative things happen, like feeling it isn't my night or that things aren't in place musically. I’m trying all the time, of course, to overcome those things. You have to take that into consideration as an artist. Even if things aren’t falling into place right away, I’m working like heck to make it happen. 

JW: Do you ever think you’re too hard on yourself?
SR: No. I don’t think I’m too hard. I probably could be harder.

JW: But does a point ever come as an artist when you're being too hard on yourself, that your discipline will trample the creative aspects of what you want to do?
SR: No, I don’t think so.

JW: How do you avoid becoming too rigid or formulaic?
SR: When I say I'm hard on myself, I don't mean that I'm rigid. When young people call me up, they say, "Sonny, what do you practice?" My answer always is that they must first absorb the rudiments that they need to know. You have to be sure you practice those every day. But then you have to make time to be creative and free. [Photo by Michael Jackson]

JW: So a jazz artist in performance constantly has to fight to be free?
SR: I think so. You don't want to say, "Gee I have to practice this or that over and over again." No. Of course, certain things are important. For instance, I know that I have to hold whole tones to build up my embouchure, so I do these exercises. But I don’t make it a big deal. If you do, then practicing becomes a chore. Practicing has to be viewed as fun, it has to be easy. You’ve got to leave time for expression, to keep yourself open to expression. That’s what I do.

JW: I have to assume that when you perform, you’re not even there, that you’ve left the stage mentally.
SR: Exactly. That’s my whole thing, the process of improvising. You have to know your materials, you know the songs, you know the harmonics—all these things. You have to learn those back and forth. Then when you get on the stage, you forget all of it [laughs]. See what I mean? [Photo by John Abbott]

JW: And then?
SR: And then you let the subconscious take over. That’s my thing. My subconscious takes over quickly and I don’t know what I do. I surprise myself by what I play, and that’s great.

JW: Are you letting yourself be more emotional when this happens?
SR: Emotional. Hmmm, that’s a tricky word.

JW: I mean soulful—emotional rather than rational?
SR: My mind is trained to do the things I'm trying to do. What happens after that I don’t know. It’s something else. It's magical. I'm not consciously aware of what I’m doing. My mind is blank and not consciously going after one thing or another. If everything comes together, then the creative part becomes an exciting experience for the audience. And for me. [Photo by John Abbott]

JazzWax List: The Sonny Band

During the 1940s and 1950s, many jazz musicians had nicknames. Some were bestowed on them by band members. Others were affixed by parents or friends while they were growing up. One of the most popular sobriquets during this period was "Sonny." It seems to have been given most often by parents in need of differentiating between children or between the child and the father or grandfather in the home. 

What if all of the best-known Sonnys in jazz were united for a big-band session? If you have a Sonny I've overlooked below, please add to the Comments section for all to see:

• Sonny Berman, Sonny Cohn (trumpets)
• Sonny Lee, Sonny Russo (trombones)
• Sonny Criss and Sonny Simmons (alto saxes)
• Sonny Rollins and Sonny Fortune (tenor saxes)
• Sonny Stitt (baritone sax)
• Sonny Clark (piano)
• Sonny Sharrock (guitar)
• Sonny Dallas (bass)
• Sonny Igoe, Sonny Payne, Sonny Johnson and Sonny Greer (drums)
• Sonny Skylar and Sonny Parker (vocals)
• Sonny Burke (arranger, leader)

Orrin Keepnews on Bill Evans

In rereading producer Orrin Keepnews' superb book, The View From Within, a collection of his jazz writings and recollections over the years, I came across the following passage on Bill Evans and the recording of Explorations. I've often posted that the years between 1959 and 1965 represent my favorite Bill Evans period, with Explorations being among my favorite recordings, primarily for its poetic ideas and bounce.

Here's Orrin, a recently named NEA Jazz Master, on the February 2, 1961 session that he produced:

"Explorations was the direct successor to [Bill Evans'] first working-trio record, but it did follow (by less than a week) the first of three trips to the studio in connection with a Cannonball Adderley album on which Evans was featured.

"The trio [Evans, Scott LaFaro and Paul Motian] had now been together for more than a year, had spent much of that time on the road, and had made giant strides towards the goal of becoming a three-voice unit rather than a piano player and his accompanists. Inevitably—and properly—Bill remained the focal point, but his interweaving with Scotty and the freedom this truly unusual bassist was afforded were very much up front.

"There had also been noticeable movement towards the more introspective style that is generally considered 'typical' Bill Evans, and is certainly the most widely influential aspect of his work. Although this is really much more a matter of approach than of tempo, it is more readily apparent at the relaxed pace that predominated on this session.

"Also much in evidence is that emphasis on the reworking of standard tunes: six of the nine selections are in that category. Of the others, Nardis is credited to Miles (although I have always wondered if perhaps an assist shouldn't also go to Bill, who took part in its first recording on Cannonball's 1958 Riverside debut album); Israel is an intriguing but neglected piece first heard on Davis' legendary Birth of the Cool set; and Elsa is one of several contributions made to Bill's repertoire over the years by his friend Earl Zindars. When we finished with more material than could comfortably fit on the album, Evans decided The Boy Next Door was most expendable, but it was eventually inserted into a '70s reissue package...

"My chief recollection of this session is as a classic case of personal factors influencing musical judgment. Evans was full of openly expressed negative feelings during the date, largely because of a running nonmusical argument with LaFaro. I felt equally negative, being annoyed with both of them and distressed by Bill's complaints about a presumably tension-induced headache. Although I kept insisting that the music sounded just fine, that was mostly pep talk; I actually shared his misgivings, and we were equally surprised when later listening proved my words to have been accurate. (In a 1976 interview, Bill went so far as to call this 'one of my favorite albums.')

—Orrin Keepnews, The View From Within: Jazz Writings 1948-1987. For a copy, go here.

Charlie Parker and McKusick's Suit

In early 1945, saxophonist Hal McKusick found himself in Los Angeles sharing a hotel room with arranger and pianist George Handy. Weeks earlier, Hal and Handy had been in Boston with Boyd Raeburn's band. But just before Christmas 1944, they quit in protest. Raeburn was handing solos meant for tenor saxophonist Al Cohn's to alto saxophonist Johnny Bothwell, a move they felt made little musical sense. In a burst of bravado, Hal and Handy decided to fly to the West Coast shortly after touching down in New York from Boston. When they arrived in California, they lived at a hotel briefly, taking on playing and writing jobs in L.A. and San Francisco. By the end of 1945, Hal was rooming in Los Angeles with pianist Joe Albany's family.

Hal [pictured below] picks up the story:

"Joe's real last name was Albani. His family was from Italy. They were lovely people, and the food was fantastic. Joe was originally an accordion player, and he had recently started playing piano, which was ideal for me because we could play a lot together at his house.

"When I moved in, I brought along a double-breasted striped suit that a gifted Chinese tailor had made for me in San Francisco. I bought it while I was working up there with Ziggy Elman's big band at the San Francisco Theater.

"In December 1946, Charlie Parker and Dizzy Gillespie came to L.A. to play at Billy Berg's in Hollywood. Joe and I had heard about him so we went to see him and Dizzy, who I already knew from Boyd's band. At Billy Berg's, Bird and Dizzy were amazing.

"A day or two later I went to the closet to get my suit, but it was gone. When I asked Joe if he had seen it, he said matter-of-factly, 'I gave it to Bird.' Joe wanted to give Parker a welcome gift. In Joe's state of mind, he found it easy to lift my special attire from the closet with no thought that I would mind.

"Strangely, though, he was right. I was happy to hear Bird, and never mentioned it to Joe or Bird. We were so happy to be able to hear Parker in person. That seems to have been the most important thing. I was honored that he was wearing my suit at Billy Berg's." [Photo of Charlie Parker and Howard McGhee on the West Coast]

Benny Golson: Big City Sounds

When saxophonist Benny Golson and trumpeter Art Farmer decided to form a sextet in late 1959 with trombonist Curtis Fuller, they were stuck for a name. So Benny asked Fuller if they could use "Jazztet," a name the trombonist had come up with for a Savoy album date he led in August. Fuller agreed, and the first album the group recorded in February 1960 was Meet the Jazztet, a powerful outing that included Benny's I Remember Clifford, Blues March, Park Avenue Petite and Killer Joe.

The album remains such a strong, all-chips-in outing that the group's second album, Big City Sounds, often is overlooked, left hiding in the first album's large shadow. Recorded in September 1960, Big City Sounds was in fact a stunning followup that requires a careful re-listen. 

Benny and Fuller were formerly of Art Blakey's Jazz Messengers, but the Jazztet concept that Benny and Farmer had in mind wasn't quite hard bop. There was a new sophistication and lighter feel to the Jazztet's approach. Benny's writing and arranging had a greater finesse and sophistication than the beat-heavy hard bop groups of the time. Benny's melody lines and harmonies were more refined, influenced to some extent by the delicate and poetic stylings of Tadd Dameron. 

The Jazztet's first album was a tough act to follow. Killer Joe was a big jukebox hit, and the Jazztet was named best new small band in the Down Beat Critics' Poll. But after the first album gained speed, Fuller decided to leave the group, largely over financial issues related to the pay of sidemen. Both Benny and Farmer had been making sizable incomes before forming the Jazztet—Benny with his writing and Farmer with his prolific sideman dates. Both needed the bulk of the Jazztet's income to sustain their focus and participation. Bassist Addison Farmer and drummer Lex Humphries also decided to depart, along with McCoy Tyner, who joined John Coltrane.

So Benny needed to hire four replacements. The new Jazztet featured Tom McIntosh on trombone and Cedar Walton on piano, Tommy Williams on bass and Albert "Tootie" Heath on drums. The tracks were The Cool One, Blues on Down, Hi-Fly, My Funny Valentine, Wonder Why, Con Alma, Lament, Bean Bag and Five Spot After Dark.

Four of the tracks were Benny's compositions—The Cool One, Blues on Down, Bean Bag and Five Spot After Dark. Each is different from the other, but all exemplify the cooler, sculptured sound Benny was striving for with the Jazztet. In addition to the music and orchestral arrangements, the sound of Farmer's Melba-toast tone against Benny's serpentine lines and breathy phrasing makes for a rich result.

The Cool One has a Killer Joe feel and pace but it is a tad lighter. Blues on Down is given a funk feel. Bean Bag, an up-tempo tune, features voicings that lead you to think there are many more instruments playing. And the sly Five Spot After Dark has a drive that never feels heavy. Of the remaining tunes, Randy Weston's Hi-Fly and Dizzy Gillespie's Con Alma are particularly precious. And Farmer's reading of My Funny Valentine is a showcase for the trumpeter's sterling technique.

Benny and Farmer would record separately for their next two Argo dates in 1960—Benny with Take a Number from 1 to 10 and Farmer with Art backed by a quartet. The Jazztet reunited in January 1961 with John Lewis. As the Big City Sounds clearly illustrates, the concept was too good not to pursue. [Photo of Art Farmer and Benny Golson by Don Schlitten]

JazzWax tracks. You'll find Big City Sounds as a download at iTunes or here. The album also was included as part of Mosaic's The Complete Argo/Mercury Art Famer/Benny Golson/Jazztet Sessions, now out of print and selling for around $350.

JazzWax clip: Here's The Cool One from Big City Sounds. Dig how Benny colorizes his solo, soaring one moment and zigzagging the next. Farmer follows with an absolutely lovely series of round, taut statements. This was a magical group...

Sunday Wax Bits

By now, I'm sure you've heard that the National Jazz Museum in Harlem has acquired nearly 1,000 discs recorded from radio broadcasts in the late 1930s by engineer William Savory [pictured]. The bounty includes previously unreleased transcriptions by Coleman Hawkins, Louis Armstrong, Billie Holiday and other jazz giants. Many of the recordings are reported to be historically significant.

What you may not know is that a firestorm has been raging among the jazz cognoscenti since the news first broke in mid-August. At issue is whether the recordings will ever see the light of day commercially. There appears to be a hornet's nest of U.S. copyright issues looming. In addition, there's the very real threat that whatever the museum does release digitally will immediately be pirated by European record labels and sold here for less.

Why? European record labels aren't up against the same copyright restrictions that U.S. record companies face. In Europe, creative works enter the public domain after 50 years, which means anything recorded earlier than 1961 can be re-packaged and issued with lower overhead. In the digital age, the difference in audio quality between using a master and a clean analog or digital copy is good enough that consumers don't fuss, giving the European labels a huge advantage over American labels that devote time and dollars to reissues.

Jazz insiders have tended to divide into two camps over the Savory copyright issue: Some argue that copyright royalties on the Savory material should be paid to family members of the original artists, while others feel the music's importance transcends such things and the recordings should not be left gathering dust on a shelf because of the copyright issue. I tend to side with the second camp.

As someone who creates daily, I'm a big believer that original works should be protected. But the current length of time a work is protected by the copyright law seems overly extensive and antiquated, especially in light of the more liberal European laws. What's more, creative works under U.S. copyright laws were never intended to be annuities for artists' great-grandchildren. Comes a point when the music needs to be available to one and all—without the crippling cost of royalties and red tape.

As for those who slam the European labels for issuing out of print American albums, there seems to be a disconnect and some xenophobia. These labels have satisfied American jazz fans and enriched our culture at a time when our own major labels stubbornly refused to do so. It's fair to say that many jazz fans would know little or nothing about artists such as Red Callender, Sonny Criss, Bobby Scott, Med Flory, Joe Maini and so many others if it weren't for the European labels.

What's more, many of the same people who disparage the European labels think Charlie Parker and Dizzy Gillespie were clever for using the chord changes to Tin Pan Alley standards to create new songs. Funny, I don't hear anyone screaming that the families of Ray Noble and George Gershwin are owed a few bucks today.

Seems to me the National Jazz Museum has two choices if it truly wants the music out there: Seek a grant and release the recordings as a rolling series of free downloads at its site with hopes that the generosity and publicity generated will convert into higher visibility and museum donations. Or the museum should meet with Spain's Fresh Sound to cut a deal that would allow the European label to issue and distribute the music worldwide. The royalty issue would be skirted, the museum would get a cut from sales, and Fresh Sound would be left to worry about combating the platter pirates.

Lou Donaldson. In case you missed my rare Saturday post, here's the news: Yesterday, my profile of Lou Donaldson ran in the Wall Street Journal in advance of Lou's appearance at Dizzy's Club Coca-Cola starting on Tuesday. For my article, go here. 

Maynard Ferguson on Roulette. Mosaic's box The Complete Roulette Recordings of the Maynard Ferguson Orchestra is long out of print. Presently, two copies are selling at Amazon for about $1,500 each. Ouch. But wait—JazzWax reader Rick in Maryland tells me someone has put up all 146 tracks at YouTube. How good is this material? Astonishingly great. Ferguson's Roulette period is breathtaking for its energy, musicianship and rubber-burning execution. To listen to all of this Roulette material for free, go here.

CD discoveries of the week. Pianist Amina Figarova's Sketches is a stimulating, fast-paced album with a leaf-chasing spirit. Figarova has a windy, pretty sound to her playing that is uplifting and introspective. She clearly understands how to deliver lightness and intensity in equal measure. This remarkable album features Figarova compositions arranged for a sextet. The group includes Ernie Hammes on trumpet and flugelhorn, Marc Mommaas on tenor sax, Bart Platteau on flute, Jeroen Vierdag on bass and Chris Strik on drums. Figarova's luxuriant aggression on the keyboard is evident in Four Steps To...,  Whotsot and On the Road. Best of all, the album never sinks into a single mood or groove and constantly offers surprises.

You'll find Amina Figarova's Sketches (Munich) here.

Eden Brent plays a mean boogie-woogie piano. But she also sings, and on Ain't Got No Troubles, Brent's heart and passion for the music becomes fully exposed. In the great Memphis tradition, Brent slings one song after the next with a voice soaked in gospel and blues smarts. Her voice is as free as a tire rolling down a back road, traveling where it pleases, deftly escaping the out-stretched arms of pragmatic pedestrians. This is music sipped slowly and neat. Dig Brent's cakewalk-y Ain't Got No Troubles and In Love With Your Wallet. Or catch Blues All Over and Let's Boogie-Woogie for some peppery blues piano playing. This is the real deal and bound to get your feet going.

You'll find Eden Brent's Ain't Got No Troubles (Yellow Dog) at iTunes or here. 

Oddball album cover of the week. The music on this Buddy Collette album from 1956 is fabulous. It features John Anderson (tp), Buddy Collette (cl,as,ts,fl), Gerald Wiggins (p), Jim Hall (g), Curtis Counce (b) and Chico Hamilton (d). As for the cover concept, it's strange to say the least. I'm not sure of the figurine's significance, but it certainly gives new meaning to the sculptural term "bust."

Lou Donaldson in the WSJ

I typically do not post on Saturdays, but I wanted to let you know that my profile of Lou Donaldson appears today in the "Greater New York" section of the Wall Street Journal. If you have access to WSJ.com, you'll find my article here.

The first three paragraphs...

Few musicians today can claim to have changed the direction of jazz. Lou Donaldson did so twice—once in 1953 with Clifford Brown and again in 1957 with Jimmy Smith. From Tuesday through Sept. 5, the 83-year-old alto saxophonist will lead an organ-guitar-drums trio at Dizzy's Club Coca-Cola.

If Mr. Donaldson's name isn't familiar, it's likely because he spent long stretches away from New York. Like many other artists who combined country blues and jazz, "Sweet Poppa Lou," as he's known, built his career on the road. While long tours were a financial boon for Mr. Donaldson, being away from New York for extended periods lowered his visibility. Despite his six-decade career, he has yet to be named a Jazz Master by the National Endowment for the Arts.

"I just do my thing—which is getting audiences' feet shuffling," said Mr. Donaldson in a recent interview. Long compared with saxophonists Charlie Parker, Benny Carter and Johnny Hodges for his fluid attack and blues infusion, Mr. Donaldson is among the last of a generation of jazz-musician entertainers.

For more information about Lou's gig at Dizzy's Club Coca-Cola, go here.

Phil Schaap: Charlie Parker (Pt. 5)

Every great story has turning points, and the life of Charlie Parker is no exception. Among the many events that helped shape the direction of Parker and jazz in the late 1940s was the departure of Miles Davis from Parker's quintet in December 1948 and Parker's recording of Charlie Parker With Strings in November 1949.

After Davis gave notice, his replacement, trumpeter Kenny Dorham, became a force and Davis' experimentation and influence on jazz in the early 1950s expanded. As for the strings album, Parker's jazz-classical fusion became a formula used repeatedly by jazz musicians to express a more relaxed, pop side and extend the music's reach.

Today, Phil and I discuss these two events:

JazzWax: In December 1948, Miles Davis decided to leave the Charlie Parker All Stars. Why?
Phil Schaap: The straw that broke the camel’s back was Parker’s selection of pianist Al Haig [pictured] to replace Duke Jordan.

JW: Who did Davis want?
PS: Miles wanted John Lewis, and he told Parker. Bird said, “If you want John Lewis to be the piano player, get your own band.” Miles had already made headway toward forming his own band with his nonet, which had played the Royal Roost and was due to record the so-called Birth of the Cool session for Capitol in January. Of course, John Lewis was on piano.

JW: What did Parker have against John Lewis?
PS: Nothing. Look, if you’re going to choose one piano player, does that mean every other piano player sucks? It doesn’t.

JW: But it does mean that you hear something special in one pianist over another.
PS: Bird had heard Al Haig before. Haig had recorded with Bird as early as May 1945. He and Dizzy went nightclubbing often and heard him many times. Haig also is in California at Billy Berg’s with Bird and Dizzy. Haig is who Bird likes and wants, so he hires who he wants. [Photo: Al Haig and Miles Davis]

JW: Was there ever any hard feelings by Lewis toward Bird over his selection?
PS: None whatsoever. I interviewed John Lewis about Charlie Parker fairly frequently. John said he would have accepted the job, but there was no ill will. If you were to bear a grudge against every leader who didn’t hire you, every sideman in the world would hate 98% of the leaders.

JW: Does the Charlie Parker with Strings session in November 1949 successfully link modern jazz and pop?
PS: It has a lasting effect in this specific sense: the concept that Parker envisions becomes a door-opening device that allows jazz improvisers to this day to seek a lush background texture. The albums these artists create are then considered pop records by the marketplace. Stan Getz, Johnny Hodges, Chet Baker, Harry Carney, Clifford Brown, Wynton Marsalis and many others recorded albums with the same concept Bird pioneered.

JW: What does Charlie Parker With Strings do for jazz-pop? 
PS: It's the creation of a new slice of the jazz pie. The result becomes an offshoot of the pop field at a time when jazz was no longer the center of the pop idiom.

JW: Did the Charlie Parker with Strings concept originate as something of an accident?
PS: How so?

JW: In December 1947, Bird’s recording of Repetition with Neal Hefti is really the basis for Charlie Parker With Strings,
PS: I don’t think so. I think Bird tells us in interviews that it’s not. Repetition was an opportunity for Bird to  come in the back door on making a record he tells us he had already envisioned. When he hears Hefti conducting his orchestra on Repetition, he hears his concept and wants in.

JW: And Charlie Parker With Strings?
PS: It’s a great album because Bird wants it to be that way. Remember, the album is his concept. Later, other jazz artists piggyback on his invention.

JW: Such as Clifford Brown with Strings in January 1955?
PS: Clifford Brown With Strings is among the most  profoundly beautiful jazz music ever played. But Brownie is locked into a concept on there. With Bird, since it’s his vision, there’s much less limitation on what he wants to try on what is ostensibly a bebop record with strings.

JW: So does Repetition in 1947 have absolutely nothing to do with Charlie Parker With Strings?
PS: That's correct. It’s an early outcropping of Bird's desire to make a strings album.

JW: But Parker wandered onto the main stage in Carnegie Hall, heard Hefti and asked to play a solo over Hefti's orchestral chart.
PS: Bird asked in and joined Hefti’s concept. It was an opportunity to express himself by joining Hefti’s record date. He does so because he can envision the possibility.

JW: But isn’t he hearing the effect that his alto and the strings are having together?
PS: Yes he is. He understands what the merger is going to sound like. But he didn’t get the idea by lucking into a guest appearance with Hefti. He already had the vision, which perhaps grows over the next two years. For Bird, Repetition may indeed be the first example of the experience.

JW: So Repetition for Parker is the first experience of hearing his alto against strings.
PS: Yes. But producer Norman Granz didn’t want to record Charlie Parker With Strings in 1949.

JW: Why not?
PS: Why would anyone want to spend extra money on something that might not work? And that it did work is the genius of it all and why the concept continues to be repeated to this day.

JazzWax tracks: Miles Davis recorded with Charlie Parker in New York in November 1945 and in February and March 1946 in Los Angeles. Davis became part of Parker's working quintet in May 1947 and remained with the group through December 1948. Between 1949 and 1953, Davis recorded occasionally with Parker.

The Parker-Davis recordings can be found on The Complete Savoy & Dial Master Takes (Savoy) at iTunes or here. But for  those who prefer a more in-depth listen, The Complete Savoy and Dial Recordings: 1944-1948 (Savoy) features eight discs and includes all of the master takes, alternate takes and false starts. Liner notes are by James Patrick, Bill Kirchner, Ira Gitler and Orrin Keepnews. The box set can be found here.

Charlie Parker with Strings, recorded in November 1949, is available on Charlie Parker With Strings: The Master Takes at iTunes or here. Or you'll find it on Charlie Parker: The Complete Verve Master Takes here. Both include the additional studio strings sessions of July 1950 and January 1952. Parker also was recorded live with strings on multiple occasions during the early 1950s at clubs and in concert.

JazzWax notes: WKCR's Lester Young and Charlie Parker Birthday Broadcasts starts today (as you are reading this) and runs through Sunday. To listen live from anywhere in the world on your computer, go here... If you're in New York this weekend, the annual Charlie Parker Festival will be held on Sunday at Tompkins Square Park starting at 3 p.m. For more information, go here.

JazzWax clip: Everyone has their favorite Charlie Parker with strings recording. My favorite is the Jimmy Carroll arrangement of Everything Happens to Me. Listen to the drama Carroll creates with the orchestra—from the opening pizzicato, to the harp glissandi to the tick-tock ending. All of this frames Parker, who delivers a beautiful and joyful rendition of the standard...

Phil Schaap: Charlie Parker (Pt. 4)

Had he lived, Charlie Parker would have been 90 years old on August 29. In celebration of the alto saxophonist's music and upcoming birthday, I chose a handful of key moments in Parker's recording career and asked Phil Schaap to reflect on them. For those not in the know, Phil is the on-air host of the 27-year-old Bird Flight, a radio show on WKCR in New York that can be heard worldwide here from 8:20 to about 9:40 a.m. (EDT) each weekday.

In earlier parts of this series, Phil and I covered the sessions surrounding Ko-Ko, Lover Man, Milestones and Parker's Mood. Today, Phil and I discuss Parker's live recordings captured at New York's Royal Roost between December 1948 and March 1949. These recordings not only provide listeners with a vivid sense of what it was like to hear Parker in a club setting but also document what could be heard on the radio back then if you had gumption to stay up late:

JazzWax: What do Charlie Parker's live Royal Roost recordings tell us about him as an artist?
Phil Schaap: The first consideration is whether one likes Charlie Parker better in a live setting or a  recording studio. A lot of people prefer Parker live, for the spontaneity and energy. But there's more to these particular live sessions. With the Roost recordings, you're getting a great quantity of music featuring Bird with his working band, not Bird in jam sessions. Some Roost performances are more raggedy than others, but you’re hearing a working band on the gig.

JW: Why is a working band so important?
PS: You really don't have many other previous examples of Parker recording with the same band he played gigs with every night. The big exception is the Dean Benedetti field recordings, which only captured Bird's solos. What's more, the Roost radio broadcasts capture an exciting audio quality.

JW: Who recorded them?
PS: I believe they were recorded by WMCA's technicians rather than as pure air checks. The reason I feel strongly about this is that when you hear WMCA announcer Bob Garrity back at the studio doing the commercial breaks, he sounds very dull. From a fidelity standpoint, he should be at least be equal in sound quality to what’s being recorded at the club. Instead, his voice gets very dull.

JW: So what do we have here?
PS: I believe you’re hearing an air check when Garrity is on doing ads back at the studio but a professionally miked field-location recording when you hear Parker and his band.

JW: What else makes the Roost recordings remarkable?
PS: The fact that this radio show was on weekly is unbelievable. In essence, you have an appointment to hear Bird live once a week for four months. Wow. That is distinctive.

JW: What are we hearing in the development of Parker as an artist?
PS: He’s clearly in a comfort zone. I always have high expectations for Bird, and on these recordings he fulfills them. I expect Bird to play at an optimum during this period with his working band. He’s a nightclub creature and he’s in a club. He carefully picked the band and you’re hearing him with that band. They’re working nightly so they’re going to be more cohesive. So my expectations are set by those parameters. [Photo: Charlie Parker and Kenny Dorham on stage at the Royal Roost]

JW: Yet he sounds pretty good on every recording.
PS: Of course. If you threw Charlie Parker in with anybody, he’s going to sound great. But if you let him pick the setting and an all-star team of musicians, he should sound even better. And he does on these Roost recordings.

JW: So this is Bird in the wild.
PS: Well, he’s certainly playing longer solos than on studio recordings. He's in his habitat, which is probably more accurate than "in the wild."

JW: But doesn't he become a greater miracle through these recordings?
PS: I’m kind of one-universe kind of guy. To me, Bird is the miracle, regardless of the setting. I understand the importance of the Roost recordings but I don’t have to use them as part of a rating system against the Savoy studio recordings or anything else. They are what they are. I’m not putting any negative aspect on your enthusiasm. But my enthusiasm is expressed by my esthetic and my judgment. [Photo of Charlie Parker at the Royal Roost courtesy of Evette Dorham, daughter of Kenny Dorham]

JW: Let me rephrase: When you hear Parker at the Roost, does his playing become something more special for you?
PS: We’d be much less informed if we didn't have those recordings. But I’m going by a different group of identifying factors than perhaps your questions are probing. I want to hear a working band. On most of his previous studio dates as a leader, he’s not leading a working band.

JW: So the fact that these recordings capture Parker with the band he gigged with night after night make them extra special.
PS: Yes, in that regard they are very special.

Tomorrow, Phil Schaap talks about the reason for Miles Davis' departure from the Charlie Parker All Stars and the recording of Charlie Parker with Strings in 1949.

JazzWax note: Technically, Parker is captured on the live Royal Roost recordings with two working bands. In November and for much of December 1948, we hear him with Miles Davis (tp) Al Haig (p) Tommy Potter (b) and Max Roach (d). When Miles Davis decides to leave the quintet in late December, he is replaced by Kenny Dorham starting on December 25.

JazzWax tracks: The live Royal Roost recordings can be found on The Complete Live Performances on Savoy: Sept. 29, 1947-Oct. 25, 1950 at iTunes or here.

The other major live set is The Complete Dean Benedetti Recordings of Charlie Parker (Mosaic). Benedetti was a saxophonist who became so enamored of Parker's playing that he recorded him on rudimentary disc and tape machines. But without sufficient blank discs and tape to record entire sets, Benedetti economized by capturing only Parker's solos. The result is a fascinating document of Parker's playing in different venues in Los Angeles and New York between March 1947 and July 1948. This extensive set is the only record of Parker in these clubs during this crucial period of bebop's development and emerging popularity.

Mosaic's 7-CD box set features only Parker solos and includes a superb 48-page booklet and discography authored by Phil Schaap, Bop Porter, Jim Patrick, Charlie Lourie and Michael Cuscuna. You'll find this box here.

JazzWax clip: Here's Charlie Parker on Christmas morning 1948 with Kenny Dorham playing White Christmas at the Royal Roost. We tend to take this recording for granted today, treating it as a tongue-in-cheek interpretation of a holiday standard. But it's actually much more. Listen carefully as Parker and Dorham ingeniously and lovingly give the seasonal pop tune the bebop treatment...

Phil Schaap: Charlie Parker (Pt. 3)

When Parker's imposed stay at Camarillo State Mental Hospital near Los Angeles ended at the bottom of January 1947, he returned to the West Coast jazz scene briefly, recording for Dial in February and performing at the Hi-Di-Ho Club in March. Upon his return to New York in April, he recorded for Savoy in May. But in August, a strange thing happened: Parker was suddenly a sideman playing tenor sax on a record session led by Miles Davis. For the back story, I turned to Phil Schaap, a Charlie Parker authority and host of Bird Flight, the longest-running weekday radio show on WKCR that's devoted to Parker's music.

This week, in the days leading up to Parker's 90th birthday on August 29, I asked Phil questions about several major events and recordings in Parker's career. Today, Phil talks about the Milestones recording session of August 1947 and Parker's Mood of September 1948:

JazzWax: How did Miles Davis wind up being the leader on the modernist Milestones session of August 14, 1947?
Phil Schaap: It’s a confluence of several things: If you’re Herman Lubinsky at Savoy Records and you’re going to record Miles as a leader with Bird on the date, you have to change the way the records sound from those Miles recorded as a sideman with Bird. Even more important, by August 1947, Dial Records’ owner and producer Ross Russell had arrived in New York and told Lubinsky that he was going to sue him. Herman had recorded Bird on Donna Lee, Chasing the Bird, Cheryl and Buzzy, which Russell contended was a breach of his exclusive contract with Parker.

JW: How does the threat of a suit play into Davis recording with Bird as the leader?
PS: If you look at when the earlier Savoy records were issued, Lubinsky releases two of them and then waits a long time before issuing the other two. He’s genuinely afraid of being sued and losing. So hiding Bird by having him switch to tenor sax and making him a sideman to Miles does the trick. As for the music itself, it’s Miles’ music and has a completely different flavor from what he was playing with Bird previously.

JW: Was Bird resistant to Miles adapting Gil Evans’ cooler approach?
PS: Actually you may have the cart and horse reversed.

JW: How so?
PS: Bird was hanging out at Gil Evans’ West 55th St. apartment before Miles. I’m not saying that Miles wasn’t there. But Gil [pictured] certainly already knew Bird personally and may have known Miles at the time as well. Gil told me that Bird was at his apartment early on. Of course, what are now known as the so-called Birth of the Cool sessions were still off in the distance in the summer of 1947—they're a year and a half away.

JW: So what’s the significance of the Milestones session?
PS: It’s ultimately Miles’ music and direction. It’s also one of the first times earlier take numbers were chosen as the masters. Previously, producers tended to choose later takes for obvious reasons: They were more perfect, which is why additional takes were requested in the first place. Here, Miles picked the early takes. Vernon Davis, Miles’ brother, confirmed that for me. Miles felt earlier takes had the right energy and excitement and that later takes only polished the edge off what made the recordings special.

JW: And yet the Milestones session has a cooler, fresher feel.
PS: Yes, Miles is already coming up with an antithesis to bebop’s thesis just at the moment the music was new. That approach is part of Miles’ chameleon-like stripe. On the other hand, perception is in the ears of the listener.

JW: Meaning?
PS: That the music is what it is. I can play the songs recorded on the Milestones session in my Juilliard class 1,000 times and no one would discern what’s bebop and what’s not quite bebop. It all would sound like one thing. Students would probably just wonder who the tenor player was.

JW: But the material clearly is cooler sounding. Are you saying it isn’t?
PS: Oh, no. The tracks certainly are the zygote of cool and clearly embryonic to what’s coming. But it’s a bebop record date, too. This is what Miles and pianist John Lewis were about at this point in time. Their thinking was, “Let’s do bebop but with Lester Young’s phrasing.”

JW: Speaking of phrasing, what’s the story behind Parker’s Mood recorded in September 1948? And how does Parker come to deliver one of the greatest sax solos of all time?
PS: Well…

JW: I know, I know you’re probably going to argue with that, but…
PS: Well, no. Parker’s Mood is one of the definitive masterpieces in the history of music. But if we’re talking about Charlie Parker, I would expect him occasionally to hit it out of the park every once in a while. Wouldn’t you? If he's as great as we believe him to be, you'd have to assume there would be moments of astonishing brilliance.

JW: Why the word “mood?”
PS: Using the word mood was a big  Savoy Records thing then. It’s one of the ways in which record companies attempted hipness. That Bird is going to play a blues on the date makes sense. Why it takes on the dirge quality is simply the feeling the musicians had at that moment.

JW: Was it supposed to be a quartet recording?
PS: Not intentionally. Miles Davis was there earlier on September 18 with Bird recording Barbados, Ah-Leu-Cha and Constellation. But then he had to leave. Miles was wrapping up his gig at the Royal Roost at the time with the first performances of his Birth of the Cool nonet and probably had to get ready.

JW: Was Parker put off by King Pleasure’s version in December 1953 of Parker’s Mood, which featured lyrics that seemed to foreshadow Parker’s death?
PS: I don’t know—and I don’t know if it has even been documented. King Pleasure’s recording was made at the end of 1953 and became a hit in 1954. When Bird dies in March 1955, that’s when the double meaning of the lyrics was noticed. While Parker is alive, the lyrics were simply a sad story being narrated by a singer, similar in many ways to the lyrics to the St. James Infirmary.

Tomorrow, Phil talks about Charlie Parker's live Royal Roost recordings in late 1948 and early 1949 and Charlie Parker with Strings in November 1949.

Radio note. WKCR's Lester Young and Charlie Parker around-the-clock joint-birthday broadcast will begin on August 27 and run through August 29. Go here to listen live on those dates.

JazzWax tracks: For the Miles Davis-led Milestones session (Milestones, Little Willie Leaps, Half Nelson and Sippin' at Bell's), with Charlie Parker on tenor sax, you can find the tracks on The Complete Savoy and Dial Master Takes at iTunes or here. You'll find Parker's Mood on the same set.

As for King Pleasure's Parker's Mood, you'll find the track on King Pleasure Sings/Annie Ross Sings at iTunes or here.

JazzWax note: For more on Phil Schaap, there are two excellent profiles. One is by David Remnick, editor of The New Yorker, here. The other is by Paul Hond in Columbia Magazine, which is published by Columbia University, here.

JazzWax clip: Here's Charlie Parker in September 1948 playing what has become one of the most remarkable saxophone solos in jazz history for its blues passion, lyrical improvisational statements and fluid ideas...