Given saxophonist Charlie Parker’s renown, you might think his career was extremely well documented, In fact, although he was already a known quantity by about 1940, it wasn’t until the late 1940’s that Parker (aka “Yardbird” or “Bird”) began to consistently commercially record. Adding to that documentation were the recordings done in the late 1940s by the fanatical Bird acolyte Dean Benedetti. Benedetti stashed his recording equipment where he could, including under stages, usually turning his machine on when Parker played and shutting it off when his solo ended. Amateur jazz recordist Jerry Newman did make vital 1941 recordings documenting musicians like Thelonius Monk, Dizzy Gillespie, and Kenny Clarke birthing Bebop at Minton’s Playhouse, but Newman didn’t care for Parker’s playing and didn’t record him.
This dearth of recordings in the early 1940s makes it hard to trace the evolution of Bird’s playing and complicates trying to understand how Bebop developed. The Musicians Union recording strike from August 1942 to November 1944 had a lot to do with it (The strike resumed in 1948 but lasted less than a year). WWII also put the squeeze on recording. People wanted to hear more patriotic and escapist tunes—and the government put pressure on the music and film industries to make this happen. I would conjecture that this was not particularly fertile soil for a new exacting music like Bebop to take root.
Jazz fans utilize home recordings, V (Victory)-Discs (recorded for distribution to the armed services), radio air checks, and amateur live recordings to try and fill in the gaps. But strange as it seems, we have a more complete picture of Louis Armstrong’s early growth in the 1920s than we do of Charlie Parker’s in the late 1930s-early 1940s. We can hear Armstrong moving from King Oliver’s band in 1923 to Fletcher Henderson’s in 1924, then to the Hot Five and Hot Seven recordings of 1925-26. Many of Armstrong’s early recordings are acoustic (pre-electric) and not much for sound quality, but much early Parker also sounds lossy and noisy despite the vast advances that had been made in audio recording.
Peter Losin’s site, www.plosin.com, probably the ultimate authority on Parker recordings, has only 228 total listings, including radio airchecks, private recordings, and professional recordings. Bird’s seemingly bulky discography is actually the result of sessions being re-packaged and re-released over time.
In keeping with this pattern, Bird in Kansas City is a hybrid of new and unreleased sessions. It includes three sets of recordings, two of which have already been out there and one of which is brand new to the market. Each was recorded on home equipment in Kansas City and shows saxophonist Charlie Parker in different phases of his musical development.
Kansas City born and raised, Parker started his career playing in big bands—a very common pathway for musicians in the 1930s. He was briefly with the Jay McShann orchestra in 1938, spent some time with Harlan Leonard and the Rockets and then rejoined McShann in 1940. That’s where the jazz world first took notice of his playing and it’s where the oldest material in Bird in Kansas City comes from.
The Jay McShann sessions here include two tracks from 1941: “Margie” and “I’m Getting Sentimental Over You.” The recordings came about when manager of the Jay McShann band, John Tumino, bought a disc cutting machine to make home recordings of the band in preparation for an upcoming recording session for Decca Records. (That Decca session produced “Confessin’ the Blues” and “Hootie Blues.”) There’s some surface noise, but the sound is passable and we get a good sense of where Parker’s playing was during that time.
“Sentimental…” features a rather turgid vocal by Joe Coleman but Parker is given a 36-bar solo on this ballad and the playing is lovely. Here we already have the singular tone that demarcated the modern alto saxophone from the sound proffered by Johnny Hodges, Benny Carter, and Willie Smith. One also hears the beginnings of the harmonic and rhythmic probing that continues to influence jazz musicians, four generations later.
Chronologically, the next session on Bird in Kansas City was recorded in 1944. It features Charlie Parker with old Kansas City pals Efferge Ware on guitar and “Little” Phil Phillips on drums—both solid payers. They play “Cherokee,” “My Heart Tells Me,” “I found a New Baby,” and “Body and Soul.” For any other alto player we would simply say this is great playing. For Bird, we can say that his playing is moving toward the level of genius it would attain. The sound quality is not bad. These recordings have been out there for a few years.
The real news from Bird in Kansas City is the session that was recorded in 1951, where we hear Parker at the height of his power, with an unknown bassist and drummer. Ray Crawford, an engineer at Pratt and Whitney, was a friend of Phil Baxter, a guy who knew a lot of musicians and liked to throw elaborate parties. Bird hung out there when he was in town and would jam with all comers. On this occasion, Baxter got Crawford to bring his wire recorder and microphones to one of his parties to record Bird. So, the recordings take place in a relaxed, social atmosphere.
The first three tracks are simply called Bird Song #1, #2, and #3. The first is a blues, the second Rhythm changes and the third “Lady Be Good.” After that, they play Bird favorites “Cherokee,” “Body and Soul,” “Honeysuckle Rose,” and “Perdido.” The bass player and drummer are competent, if not stellar and the sound quality is good. What can I say about Bird’s playing? He’s a fountain of invention; arguably the most accomplished and innovative improviser in jazz history and we hear that here.
Six of the tracks on Bird in Kansas City had already been available, but the eight others are a treat for Parker aficionados. If you’re not, these recordings will give you snapshots of three phases of Parker’s musical development and I’ll give you odds you’ll want to further explore the work of this master.
Bird in Kansas City
Charlie Parker
store.ververecords.com
