100 Years of Bird

 

This morning I visited five internet sites professing to rank the greatest saxophonists of all-time. Four of the five bestowed the honor on Charlie Parker, and the fifth put him at number two behind John Coltrane. This accurately represents Bird’s foremost position in jazz hierarchy.

My first exposure to Bird was not a recording, but an arrangement of the bebop classic “Groovin’ High.” When Bird recorded this uptempo tune with Dizzy Gillespie, his 16-bar solo represented perfect balance of improvisation and composition. The arranger transcribed the solo note for note and cleverly added four supporting saxophone parts. The result was an exquisite blend of melodic and harmonic elements. It was as difficult as any classical etude.

Today marks Charlie Parker’s 100^th birthday, and his influence has not diminished since his death in 1955 at age 34. Bird and a small number of like-minded instrumentalists changed the course of jazz and brought an enthusiastic cadre of young musicians along for the ride.

Charles McPherson offered a typical story of the effect of hearing Bird for the first time, in our 1998 interview:

CM: I grew up in Joplin, Missouri, which is a little town south of St. Louis. I was there up until about nine years of age then I moved to Detroit. But during the time that I was there, I did have occasion to see various bands, coming from Kansas City, territorial bands. This is when I was  maybe six. Every year in the summertime these bands would come to this park in Joplin and play for a week. I was quite impressed with the bands, with the music and with the way the horns look, just the physicalities of the nice, gold, shiny horn.

During the 50s, you didn’t have jazz in the schools. We just played the regular school type things. We played marches and for football games, morning auditorium and all that. It was fun playing and I really liked it, This is what I wanted to do. There were some jazz records around my house, but not a lot. And I did get interested in jazz and a student at school told me about Charlie Parker. I’d never heard of him. And he said, “You should really check this Charlie Parker out.” So I did. I went to a little candy shop in my neighborhood and on the juke box there was a Charlie Parker record, a little 45rpm. I think he was playing “Tico Tico,” which is a Brazilian samba song. And it just blew me away. I knew immediately that this is what I wanted to do. It made perfect sense to me. I didn’t need to be nurtured or taught how to listen to this music. I was about 14, when I heard that, I had no history of hearing a lot of jazz records, I had no concept of what’s considered bebop and modern jazz or any of that. It was like this is the way music should go. This is the way an instrumentalist should approach this. I felt that. I immediately said okay, I’ve got to get these records. Then I was told that this guy was a member of a group of musicians that play a certain genre of jazz, and it’s called bebop. There was like a school of them. So I said oh? That’s what that is. I had no idea that Charlie Parker represented anything but a jazz musician. I knew nothing about schools and styles. Then I just zeroed in on that. He was definitely my main influence.

View Charles’ YouTube video here.

The draw of Parker’s innovations compelled numerous aspiring jazz artists to New York City. Phil Woods offered his own variation on Bird’s magnetism:

PW: I graduated high school at the age of 16 and I wanted to go on with my music education. I went to the Manhattan School of Music for a summer course. I wanted to be in New York, that’s where Charlie Parker was.

MR:         You had to major on the clarinet, didn’t you?

PW:         Yeah. But clarinet, I think it served me well. I could work on my Mozart and with the keyboard stuff work on Bach, and I went to composers workshops. I sort of minored in composition. But at night I would study bebop, Charlie Parker, I’d have the radio on and listen to broadcasts from Birdland.

MR:         When was the first time you saw Charlie Parker play live, and what kind of effect did it have on you?

PW:         The first music I ever played of jazz, my teacher gave me transcribed Benny Carter solos. And then within that month, Ellington came to town and I saw Johnny Hodges. And then I picked up the latest record of this guy called Charlie Parker and it was “KoKo.” And that was it. I mean between Benny Carter, Hodges and Parker all in one dose, I said yeah, man, let me at it, my course was very clear, especially after hearing Bird. The first time I saw Bird would be on 52^nd Street when I was studying with Lenny Tristano, I was still in high school. That’s where I first heard Charlie Parker. I think he was sitting in with Milt Jackson and Howard McGhee.

MR:         What kind of person was he to you?

PW:         Sweet. I remember one day he asked me, “Did you eat today, young man?” I mean he didn’t know me from a hole in the wall, I was just another alto player looking at his heels, and he said, “did you eat today.” The misconception is that Charlie Parker was stealing everybody’s money and using it to buy drugs, but he was very nice to young musicians. That’s often overlooked. This is my only real Charlie Parker story up close — I was working in a place called the Nut Club in the Village, Sheridan Square. Playing for strippers, “Harlem Nocturne” ten times a night. This joint had so much class they would hand you like little wooden hammers as you walked in the door, so you could beat the shit out of the table for your favorite strippers. So somebody said, “Bird’s across the street jamming.” And he was over at Arthur’s Bar, which is still there to this day, it’s a little dinky joint. I walked in and there was Bird and he was playing on the baritone sax. Now let me preface this, at this period I didn’t know if my mouthpiece was right, I didn’t like the reed, I don’t like this horn, it’s not happening, I need new stuff, you know. So I got up my nerve and said, “Mr. Parker, perhaps you’d like to play my alto?” And he said, “That would be very nice, son.” Man I ran across Seventh Avenue and I got my horn, and I’m sitting — Bird was there and I was sitting there and the piano was there, just a drummer — a snare drum and a piano and Bird. And I’m sitting there. I hand him the horn. He played “Long Ago and Far Away,” Jerome Kern. And I’m listening to this guy and it seems there’s nothing wrong with my saxophone. The saxophone sounds pretty darn good, you know what I mean? And he says, “Now you play.” And I says oh Jesus. When kids talk about being awestruck, I know about awestruck. I did my feeble imitation of the master. He said, “Sounds real good, son.” Oh man, this time I flew over Seventh Avenue, and I played the Bejesus out of “Harlem Nocturne” that night. But I mean just those few words were so important.

Here’s a link to the full Phil Woods interview.

The lore of Parker’s talent and life are legion, most prominent among them is the story behind his nickname. Legend has it that a yard bird (chicken) crossing the road fell victim to the band’s car, and Charlie insisted on bringing it to their destination for dinner. Buddy Collette offered an competing tale in his interview in Los Angeles:

BC:  Bird had this meeting with Jimmy Cheatham. He said that all those stories are phony, that’s not what happened. He said when he was 14 years old he used to go out to the park with a couple of his buddies, a drummer or a guitar or bass player. Before school, at 6, 7 in the morning, so they could get a little practice in because at home they couldn’t get it in. They’d get home from school and they’d have to do work, so they’d get this hour or two early to play, just jam and do tunes and things. And he said that the neighbors could hear them. They were about a half a mile from the residential area. The cops would come by and they’d wave to them. They were just friendly neighborhood kids and they’d be jamming. So they said the neighbors called him the Bird. “Oh that’s just the Bird out there practicing in the morning.” So it was a kind of a cute story. They wanted to play so much that they would go out there, but that horn would always be going.

 

Buddy’s YouTube is located here.

In the 90s I recall a Fed Ex television commercial featuring the world’s fastest talker. His supersonic, perfectly articulated verbal delivery came to mind when I recently listened to some classic Charlie Parker recordings. His rapid-fire ideas matched with peerless technique remains a wonder to behold, even 66 years after his death.

Bucky Pizzarelli, 1926-2020

This is a really hard one.

Part of being involved in an oral history project that has lasted 25 years is watching people pass on who you’ve come to know and feel strongly about. It’s the nature of the business, and one of the prime reasons that such projects exist, so that the words, images and stories of these people will stay with us after they’re gone.

Bucky Pizzarelli was a musician’s musician; an overused phrase but highly appropriate in this case. Well-known in the world of guitar players, Bucky was never a household name because he was the ultimate team player, the impeccable guitarist behind the scenes who knew what was required for every gig. His career spanned over seven decades and every conceivable situation, ranging from playing Tiny Tim’s wedding on The Tonight Show, (which included tuning Tiny Tim’s ukulele) to performing at the White House with Frank Sinatra.

Bucky’s attitude about music was, “What is required here? I can do it and feel good about it.” He was one of the many jazz players who moved into the active studio recording scene in New York City in the 50s, 60s and 70s.

Bucky is the only interviewee who has had three sessions with the Fillius Jazz Archive, in 1997, 2003, and in 2014, when my wife and I traveled to his home to interview Bucky along with his lovely and gracious wife, Ruth.

In our first interview, I asked Bucky about playing what was referred to as “three-chord” rock & roll as part of a studio gig:

MR:  How did you guys feel about this music?

BP: Well we were making money you know, and we could play gigs at night, but we got so busy we had no time to play gigs, no time. But I used to do, on Fridays and Saturdays, I played over in Jersey with a trio — piano, bass and guitar — all the time. I always had a little thing like that going on the side.

MR: To keep your jazz chops?

BP: Well not to keep them but I just did it automatically because I felt that this is what I like to do so I’ll make some money and support the family and everything doing the recordings, and go play for — I don’t know it was $35 or $40 a night to play that kind of music.

Like most musicians of his generation, Bucky learned from mentors, relatives, and by listening to recordings. He had a strong attitude about extensive formal jazz education.

MR: You were talking about music education. You seemed to say that the musicians were over-educated these days.

BP: Yes. Over trained. Everybody goes in school and they want to be a soloist today. So they go and they learn how to read and they do ensemble playing and they learn to read so well that when they get with a band, a commercial band, it’s boring. They could play it, like I said before, without even thinking about it. So when boredom sets in on any musician, you better quit the business. You’ve got to like what you’re doing.

Bucky received an Honorary Doctorate from Hamilton in 2003 and Ruth and his children traveled to the college to partake in the ceremony. He was also part of a team of musicians who performed annually at Hamilton College’s Fallcoming event. This annual gathering of jazz luminaries is in its 26^th year, and Bucky played at 12 of these events. One of our favorite memories is the year we brought his son John’s trio with John’s brother Martin on bass and Bucky as special guest. When John introduced Bucky to the stage, he referred to his father as “The Pope.” We previously blogged about this event, which occurred in 2004, and you can read it here, entitled Family Matters.

I was in attendance when John’s trio was playing at a swank supper club in New York City. After one virtuosic number, when the applause died down, a voice came out of the audience directed at John, saying, “That’s not so hard.” John said, “What do you mean?” The voice repeated sarcastically, “That’s not so hard.” John replied (acting annoyed), “Well would you like to come up here and try it?” The voice said, “All right I will,” and guess who strode up to the stage? Bucky. He was a plant, a set-up that was artfully executed.

After a number of years booking the Fallcoming jazz group, I was invited to play an entire set and, pretending to be reluctant, I knew I would be striding into a musical heaven. I remember Bucky sitting next to me playing Dick Hyman charts and there is a particular photograph which graces the home page of my website, where Bucky seems to be beaming approval at my soloing efforts.

Bucky’s job was doing what he loved. He played in every possible situation with every conceivable musician both here in America and abroad. He and his gracious wife Ruth had a wonderful family with four beautiful and caring children: Mary, Martin, John, and Ann. What more can you ask for?

The Hamilton community sends its deepest sympathies to the entire Pizzarelli family, for we will always carry loving remembrances of him in our hearts.

To watch our Bucky interviews, Part 1, conducted 10/11/1997 can be found here. Part 2, conducted 5/23/2003 can be found here. And the third interview, which was conducted at his home with his wife Ruth on 1/19/2015, can be found here.

Advice for Jazz Graduates

It’s May. Thousands of young people across the country move on from their college education into the real world. Some of them entered college not knowing what their career path might be, and some of them graduate from college still not totally clear on where they are headed. It’s been my experience that music students are among of the most focused of all young people. Music students know exactly why they’re going to college. They may be headed on a performance path or a music teaching career, but there is no doubt of their planned trajectory from day one of their freshman semester. Four, six or eight years later their hoped-for destination may have shifted, particularly in the field of jazz. Jazz is one of the most creative, exciting and challenging career paths a musician can pursue, and equally fraught with competition. In this blog we’d like to offer three opinions about a jazz career and how to prepare for it.

In a most recent interview, I spoke with Denis DiBlasio, saxophonist and educator at Rowan University. His take on careers in jazz is highly relevant for the times.

Denis DiBlasio, in 2019

MR:   So are you able to give [jazz majors] advice on what their possibilities are after they graduate?

DD:   Well the ones that are serious we usually have a talk right around the sophomore, junior year. And it’s different for these — the age that we’re teaching now than it was for us. They can’t do what I did, because what I did doesn’t exist anymore. You know you go out in the big band, maybe get a name. I mean almost everything that happened to me happened because I was on Maynard’s band and I maybe took advantage of it afterwards, doing these clinics and all this business you know. It all came because people saw me with that band and you know then you’re able to keep it going. Most of us that have been on the bands, a lot of them, like when I think about the people I know who are doing things now, they either were with Count’s band or Duke’s or Woody’s or Stan’s or Maynard’s or Buddy’s, you know? And when these guys leave they either go to Chicago, New York or LA for the most part, and there’s pockets of guys, and they’ve all had that kind of experience, so — but now that whole band thing doesn’t exist. And I don’t want to say it shouldn’t, it just doesn’t. But when a student starts talking now about you know what am I going to do when I get out, I get them in my office and we look at YouTube. And I talk to them about how certain people have to — well you have to kind of design your own life. There’s nothing that you’re going to go to and join and that’s going to be your life in jazz. However, you look up — look at some of the people who are creating their own thing, and I’ll pull up you know Leo Pellegrino? Too Many Zooz? He’s a baritone sax player. He’s playing. And so I’ll pull that up. And I said, “Look at what he did.” Now no one would think you’re going to make a living doing this. But he put this up. Social media is a big part of it. You develop your own audience so your audience comes and sees you, where before you would play a gig to sell your CDs. Now you’re giving away CDs to hope they come to your gig kind of, because you have to have, how do you develop your audience? You’ve got to have an online presence. It’s all the stuff that didn’t exist before. Have a website. People start to follow you. People ask you questions, you answer them back, and I have a couple of students that have gone out and been successful but part of the work is this online activity that is very much a part of it all. We have a Music Industry major at our school. And these guys that teach it like they’re all about this thing. And I asked one of the guys, I said, “How do you get a record deal these days?” Because the record deal thing the way it used to work was different. You have a name like Sal Nistico. Played with Woody Herman, great tenor player. Sal gets off the band, Sal’s got recordings, ooh let’s follow Sal. That’s over. How do we do this. And I said, “What would the record companies even do?” He says, if you came to a record company one of the guys told me that the record company is going to look at your social media to see how many followers you have. And if you have enough followers then I’ll just create a real nice slick video for you and we’re just going to post it on the followers that you’ve already made and there’s your audience. So if you have enough followers you’re apt to get a record deal, not that the music isn’t that important but it’s almost not as important as how many followers you have. Nobody’s going to listen to it to say man that’s great tenor playing. They’re going to say who’s going to follow you? Nobody. Well then we’re not interested. So I think wow, that’s a whole change. But they need to know that. And as a teacher teaching something that is like an art form, and the society around it is changing so quickly you can’t look at it like the way it used to work. But it’s do-able and there are some kids doing it. So some of my students they get on it, it’s not that foreign for a lot of them, and they have a big presence. Because now it used to be the club would advertise it and you would go and play and you know you get paid and hopefully somebody would show up. But now they want a guarantee that you’re going to bring your peeps to the gig, right? So you have to guarantee like 35 people before you get — but for some kids it’s not a problem because they’re active on the social media. And that’s a thing that never happened — that didn’t even exist before. And when I had to learn that, I won’t say it was a bitter pill but it was so opposite of how I came up. But we talk about it and we look and Colin Stetson, this guy that plays bass saxophone and he sets up a loop, he does these concerts — it’s great playing. It’s unbelievable playing. I never heard it. I have about five different people that I show my students look at what they’re doing. This is what you have to do if you want to have a future in it. Because what I did is gone. It’s not a bad thing, it’s just what it is.

Denis mostly works with instrumentalists who hope to carve their own niche in the world of jazz.

Ametria Dock is a valued vocal and theatrical coach and has worked with numerous successful artists during her own career. She is adamant that setting goals is essential. In our 2019 interview, she offered advice.

Ametria Dock, in 2019

MR:   If you get a student that comes to you about the age of when you entered the business and they say, “I really want to make it in the music business.” This idea of making it — do you address that?

AD:   Absolutely. So I have a lot of young artists, up-and-coming I call them, artists, creatives. Now I have some that are really successful in movies and television right now that are transitioning over to doing more musical things. And we sit down and we talk about what is your idea of making it. What does that mean for you? What does that look like for you? Who does that look like for you? Who are some of the people that you think made it you know? Because sometimes what you think making it is not necessarily — I mean is it making a lot of money? Is it doing what you love everyday? So we sit down and we have conversations about that. And I have some really, really intelligent kids that are way ahead of their time. So I’m blessed to be able to mentor and sit down and have real conversations about what that looks like. What does the next five years look like for you in terms of working on this music and working toward whatever goals you have. We sit down and we create plans and things like that. I think that’s important — whether they’re kids or college aged, 20, 21 years old and coming up with a plan of action.

MR:   I wonder how the technology and the way music is delivered these days affects their vision?

AD:   Yeah. 100%. I think it does. I think that social media, I mean it has its value, but it also makes the creative, the artist see something so fast. It’s here today and it’s gone tomorrow. And so music that artists that I loved growing up, you know, they had albums upon albums upon albums. And now we have singles. And they’re here for a couple of weeks and then it’s on to the next thing. And it’s scary because you never really get to — I feel like a lot of artists got to really dig deep and develop and evolve and become. Artists today, that opportunity is, I mean you get a window and then you’re gone.

MR:   There used to be an art to creating an album concept, and which song should follow which and the keys and all that kind of thing.

AD:   Yeah. There was a lot of thought put into making an album or creating a body of work, and then introducing it to the world you know. I think now there’s more emphasis on introducing it to the world than the body of work, in my opinion. It’s like you’re pushing to put something out instead of taking the time to really master and create, and so yeah that’s my opinion.

And last, but certainly not least, the late iconic saxophonist Phil Woods suggests that the path to a jazz career has to start before you enter your freshman college dorm. As a successful jazz man who paid many dues, I feel he is qualified to offer the following advice:

Phil Woods, in 1999

MR:   Do you have advice for aspiring jazz musicians that might help them in their careers?

PW:   Advice for young jazz men. No. I figure that if they’re going to do it, no matter what I say they’re going to do it. It’s for those ones in between, those ones that aren’t really sure, those are the ones I worry about. I mean I think jazz is only for those that have no choice. I think if you’re a young man and you’re entertaining thoughts of becoming a brain surgeon or a jazz tenor man, I’d go with the brain surgery, you know what I mean? If you have a choice. If you’ve got two burning desires, don’t pick jazz. I mean keep playing it, I mean sometimes I envy the amateur, like all those dentists and doctors who play for kicks. They don’t have to worry about making bread at it. They really enjoy making music. And that’s really what it’s about. Never forget that joy, that first time you made a note and it made you feel good. Musicians kind of forget that stuff, you know, they’re sitting in the pit and reading The Wall Street Journal and grumpy, grumpy, grumpy. They forgot that feeling, that burn of the belly the first time they sounded decent. And it’s easy to get kind of trapped into just making some bread and trying to exist when the bloom is off the rose. But a young man should consider — you only have one life. When you make a choice, a career decision, it should be well thought out. Not too carefully structured mind you, but I wouldn’t rush into anything. I wouldn’t rush to go to a jazz school or any university. I always recommend take a year off man. Hitchhike around the world. Take your horn and see if you can play for your supper around the world. See what life is about while you can, before you have a family, before you need bread. Get a couple of thou and just do it. Just do it, man. Take a chance. Because you might never have a chance to do it, and that’s when you can really kind of get inside your head. It’s hard to do it when you’re surrounded by your peers or family or the pressures of society that you know — go somewhere where it’s all fresh and pursue your — find out who you are. And then when you decide, you’re going to be a much better player for this experience.

MR:   Well I think you just gave some good advice in spite of yourself.

PW:   Darn. There goes my image as the curmudgeon.

Jazz has evolved at a rapid rate, as have the social and economic conditions in which it lives. Opportunities for musicians that once existed have disappeared, but others have presented themselves. The music graduate must be open to career opportunities they create for themselves, which may not have existed thus far. Making a living in any genre of music has never been easy. People who have the requisite passion must also have parental support and enthusiasm behind them. Conversely, convincing a creative and determined young person that a musical path would be too difficult is unhelpful in the long run. Evaluating with an eagle eye the current musical milieu should be undertaken by all music majors before they arrive at music school.