William N. Law Blog: Charlie Parker: Unheard Bird

Wednesday, July 13, 2016

Charlie Parker: Unheard Bird

What is one to make of the newly released Unheard Bird: The Unissued Takes? The new two-CD set features previously unreleased alternate takes and false starts of Parker's recordings for Verve between 1949 and 1952. The 69 tracks feature multiple takes of Parker in a range of studio settings, including quartets, quintets, soloing with Machito and His Afro-Cubans, and fronting big bands. All of the sessions were produced by Norman Granz for his Clef and Norgran labels, which eventually were absorbed by his Verve label in 1956 in the 12-inch LP era.

It's probably fair to say that this set is meant for Parker enthusiasts—those who have spent years listening to the Verve master takes and have the solos by Parker and his sidemen committed to memory. The average listener would likely be left mystified by the material, since listening to Parker attempt songs over and over is akin to repeatedly asking diners to try failed dishes. There comes a point early on where appetites expire.

Students of Parker (myself included) will find much of this material fascinating. From the time I was 15, I spent years listening to Parker's Verve recordings on LP, so I was gratified to hear on the new release how Parker arrived at the master take. Even when struggling to develop what he was trying to achieve, Parker sounded tireless and in command.

Parker is particularly interesting on Passport, which in the studio on May 5, 1949 and into May 6 was still known as Tune Y and Tune Z. The quintet on this session featured Kenny Dorham (tp), Charlie Parker (as), Al Haig (p), Tommy Potter (b) and Max Roach (d). During the song's evolution, you hear how gingerly the musicians felt their way along until they grew accustomed to its intricacies. You also realize how impossibly difficult the song's melody line was—even before Parker solos.

Mohawk's takes also are engaging. Here, we listen as Dizzy Gillespie struggles to get comfortable with the Parker original and is the reason for most of the false starts. The Okiedoke takes with Machito were ahead of their time and remain glorious. I was never a fan of the minor-key Visa and Segment, so these takes tended to grate on my nerves.

I do love the false starts of If I Should Lose You, from Parker's November 1949 session with strings. The same goes for his Star Eyes session of March and April 1950 with Hank Jones (p), Ray Brown (b) and Buddy Rich (d), whose brushwork was masterful. Blues (Fast) from the same session is perhaps the best example of Parker figuring out what he wanted to do in real studio time, though it too becomes annoying quickly.

Among my favorites here are the takes for Almost Like Being in Love. Hearing the song reminded me of the days just after starting JazzWax, when I'd pick up the phone when a song intrigued me and track own musicians on the session. I've always loved this song's roaring arrangement by Joe Lippman. Back in August 2007, I called baritone saxophonist Danny Bank and interviewed him for my post the next day (go here). Danny died in June 2010. The same is true for Night and Day from the same big band session. Amazing to hear the false starts and how sharp the musicians were reading down the arrangement.

Listening to these tracks, I came to several conclusions. First, Parker was even more gifted than we realize in terms of conceptualizing an idea and working doggedly to see it to fruition. Second, Norman Granz (above) was a taskmaster and had no problem making everyone crazy in his quest for his idea of perfection. He certainly nudged Parker to new levels. And third, even the best jazz players struggled to grasp Parker's complex songs but eventually figured them out, which only burnishes their determination and genius.

The question is whether even the seasoned listener would listen to this material more than once. The novelty does run thin, and what remains is a reference for audio research. You do learn a great deal by studying the failed efforts of a visionary. In the case of Parker, even the trash glistened.

Kudos to Harry Weinger at Universal for surfacing these recordings and to Parker historian Phil Schapp (above) for his research into these alternate takes, which Phil believes were made on 10-inch full track reel-to-reel tape dubs of 16-inch acetates when Granz was consolidating his labels.