Review: "Charlie Parker: His Music and Life," by Carl Woideck

Carl Woideck’s Charlie Parker: His Music and Life has long been one of my two favorite Parker books, along with Lawrence Koch’s Yardbird Suite (previously reviewed here). In different ways, each book combines biography with in-depth musical analysis.

Woideck’s book begins with a concise “Biographical Sketch,” and follows with an analysis of Parker’s stylistic development, marked off into chapters covering 1940-43, 1944-46, 1947-49, and 1950-55. Appendices include a selected discography, and four solo transcriptions.

The 48-page biography chapter is well-researched, describing both Parker’s musical and non-musical life. Woideck addresses some Bird myths - as the book jacket reads, “setting the record straight where possible.” Parker’s drug use, not an irrelevant factor in both his musical and non-musical life, is dealt with realistically. Although this section is nicely done, I get the feeling that for Woideck, it was a sort of obligatory part of the book, and he would just as soon get on with the analysis. As he writes at the end of the bio, “That leaves us with the music, which is as it should be.”

The musical chapters comprise the real subject of this book. The Koch book covers a lot of biographical and discographical detail, with some analysis along the way, and a 32-page appendix that digs into the technical details of Parker’s music. Woideck, while also presenting his material chronologically, deals primarily with Parker’s style, rather than spending time on the minutae of Bird’s performances and recording history. The two books complement each other nicely.

Some of the particular angles, or points made, in Woideck’s book:

1) Parker was a great student of the jazz of his day. Notably, he studied Lester Young's recorded solos.

2) Parker had a unique ability to integrate advanced (for his era) theory concepts into his playing in an organic, natural way. Theory immediately became practice.

3) In the 1950s, Parker seems to have had difficulty in expanding his musical frontiers; in this period his performances seem “formulaic.” He aspired to expand his knowledge of the European classical tradition, but was not able to realize this ambition.

Woideck makes interesting, often astute, observations throughout the book. For example:

1) Parker has been quoted as saying he was “impressed by Bach’s patterns.” Woideck points out the similarity of some of Parker’s phrases to Bach’s solo pieces. I have to agree. Play through some of Bach's cello suites, and see what you think.

2) Woideck cites a pattern that Parker plays in a 1952 recording of “Rocker,” that seems to have been borrowed from Nicholas Slonimsky’s Thesaurus Of Scales And Melodic Patterns. Slonimsky’s book became famous among jazz musicians later, in the 1960s, when John Coltrane used some of its patterns as source material for solos. Woideck finds only this one example from Parker, but his early use is significant.

3) It’s interesting to speculate on how much of Parker’s improvisations may have been prepared in advance. Woideck traces the development of Parker’s approach to the bridge of “Cherokee” over a period of years. Parker’s treatment of the bridge's II V sequences seems to have started as “Tea for Two” quotes, over time becoming increasingly embellished and varied, as a sort of “work-in-progress,” ultimately becoming a Parker trademark. Woideck also cites the 1946 recording session that produced “Night in Tunisia”; Parker used “nearly identical” solo breaks on all three takes (this is the excerpt issued as the “Famous Alto Break”). Of course, prepared or not, it’s still stunning, and advanced for that era.

I do think that when Woideck repeatedly states that Parker’s creativity ebbed in the 1950s, he may be overstating the point a little. He asserts that Bird settled into a “lick-based,” “formulaic” approach. As I see it, Parker’s approach had always been “lick-based.” It was part of his style, and his genius, that he could vary the licks, and their rhythmic placement, in countless ways. Also, I think it’s undeniable that Bird produced some transcendent work in the 1950s. If there is some validity in Woideck’s assertion, it is perhaps largely a reflection of the recording situations that Ross Russell placed Parker in, and of the fact that Parker often toured as a “single,” without his own quartet as a support group.

In an appendix, Woideck presents four transcribed solos: “Honey and Body” (a medley of “Honeysuckle Rose” and “Body and Soul”), “Oh, Lady Be Good,” “Parker’s Mood,” and “Just Friends.” It’s a great selection of solos, and the transcriptions are nicely done. Unfortunately for alto players, the solos are shown in concert key, not transposed for Eb instruments. This will work for pianists and guitarists, but sax players will miss seeing how the notes lie on the instrument with which the solos were created. I’m sure that this was a difficult judgement call by the author.

All in all, a fine piece of scholarship, and a must for all ornithologists.

Kenny Dorham, "Blue Bossa," Moacyr Silva, and "Sugestivo"

A few years ago, playing through a series of Brazilian fakebooks by Mario Mascarenas, I noticed this choro, "Sugestivo," by Moacyr Silva. It begins with a phrase so close to Kenny Dorham's Blue Bossa (beloved of jazz educators) that it just can't be a coincidence. The lead sheet in the Mascarenhas book shows the copyright date as 1958, though a comment on the Youtube page states that the tune was actually first recorded in 1952.  Dorham visited Rio in 1961. "Blue Bossa" was first recorded on Joe Henderson's album Page One in 1963.

Here's a link to Amazon for Vol. 1 of the Mascarenhas fakebooks; several other volumes are available.

This recording is from 1966. Note the very nice expressive use of time by the clarinetist, Renato Tito.

Colin Stetson

How could I have not been hip to this guy until now? Bass sax, as no one else plays it:

Wikipedia entry here.

Colin Stetson's website here.

More videos on Youtube.

Lewis Porter Articles

On Do the Math, Ethen Iverson's very cool blog, I ran across a link to a group of articles by jazz scholar Lewis Porter. Did you ever wonder what the original bridge to "Impressions" actually is? Did you know the source for the melody to "Big Nick"? Read the most recent article.

They are all interesting: a 1906 recording of flute music from the Congo that really does sound like American blues licks, a survey of slap-tonguing, origins of the word "jazz," and more. Check them out!

A Close-up View of Reeds

In a previous post, I cited an article in The Clarinet magazine by Michael J. Montague that described a way of examining and evaluating reed cane, using an inexpensive "Jewelers Loupe" magnifier. I ordered the magnifier and checked out the method, and can now report back.

All you need for this is three sheets of wet-or-dry sandpaper (#320, #400, and #600 grit), and a magnifier (40x preferred; comes with a little LED light) that sells for around $5.00. Sand the stock-end of the reed, first with the #320, then #400, then #600, to obtain a smooth finish (lubricate the sandpaper with a little water), then examine the end-surface with the magnifier. You will see cross-sections of the "vascular bundles," appearing as dark rings. Quoting a web article by Marilyn Veselak, "Each vascular bundle consists of a ring of fiber cells surrounding the xylem and phloem. The vascular bundles are what the woodwind musician refers to as the 'fiber' or 'grain' of the reed."

According to Montague, citing two other studies, as well as his own experience, the rings should be complete; if the cane has any incomplete rings at all, it is "not optimal for use." He notes that he examined three boxes of Vandoren V12 clarinet reeds, one each of #2.5, #3.5, and #5+. He found that the average percentage of discontinuous rings was 17.4%, 10.9%, and 3.9% respectively. This might suggest that stiffer cane is better cane. I'm not so sure that this is as simple as it sounds; I have not had much luck taking down hard reeds to the medium strength that I like on my tenor setup.

Below are some photos looking through the magnifier, of three different tenor saxophone reeds: a Prestini #5, a Vandoren Java #3, and a La Voz medium soft.

Prestini #5 tenor

Vandoren Java #3 tenor

La Voz medium soft tenor

The Vandoren Java seems to have a somewhat more even distribution of rings, with evenly-distributed smaller rings towards the bark of the reed. I do think that Vandoren reeds are generally higher-quality than Prestini or La Voz (that is to say, they usually seem to work better for me). I could guess that the apparent structure is a factor.

I've looked at a sampling of brands, strengths, and cuts; as you might expect, the cheaper reeds seem to be made from cane with less regular structure, and more discontinuous rings. I have a few Rico reeds from an old box I got from a music store that was going out of business, that seemed to be marked as dating from 1969. The structure was similar to the Prestini reed pictured above. A more recent Rico reed looked very much the same.

I don't really have enough information yet to say definitively which visual qualities make for better reeds. Some day, if I ever have the time, I'd like to make a more detailed study, and assemble a gallery of photos - many brands, many strengths, and noting whether each reed played well or not - then see if any conclusions can be drawn. Or maybe some reader would like to take on that project. It would cost you about $8.00 for a magnifier and three sheets of sandpaper. If you do, please let me know how it turns out.

Hugo Talks About Astor Piazzolla

My friend Hugo Wainzinger is a very talented guitarist, composer, and arranger, who also runs a recording studio here in Mountain View, California. I drop by his studio from time to time, to chat and to play some tunes. A couple of months ago, Hugo told me this story about the time he got to hang out with Astor Piazzolla. I asked him to tell it again and record it; here is the transcript. For more information about Hugo and his studio, please check the link at the end of this post.

In the early ‘70s, I was about 20, my mom was a singer in Buenos Aires; she was from Uruguay. At that time she was playing gigs in different nightclubs. One of the nightclubs she was playing was called “Caño Catorce.” Caño is like a conduit - number 14, that was the name of the place. It was kind of like a Village Vanguard in Buenos Aires, or Blue Note, for tango - mostly for tango. My mother was a melodic singer; she sang boleros, bossa novas, some tangos, some folklore from Argentina. There were other artists playing that night at that gig; among them was Astor Piazzolla, with his octet, or nonet, it depends who was available at that moment.

So the story is about a certain day, when my mother wanted me to accompany her to the rehearsal, or soundcheck, with the band. She was singing, and the accompanists were a trio - Carlos Garcia was name of the the pianist, who did the arrangements; he was a famous piano player in Argentina, also a tango musician, with two other people who I don’t recall.

I remember that the day I went there, Piazzolla was rehearsing his band, doing sound, and stuff like that. They were like halfway done, and they took a break. And during that break my mother was doing a sound check with her band. So I had the chance to talk with Piazzolla.

He saw me there sitting, and said, “Hola, pibe” - that means “Hey, kid” - “What are you doing here?” I said, “My mother is Rita Cortez, she’s the singer.” He said, “Oh, Rita, yeah, I know her very well, she’s a great singer. So you’re her son.” I said, “I’m one of them, we are five brothers and sisters.”

“So, do you like the music?” “Yeah, of course I like the music.” Actually that was kind of lying. I was into the Beatles. Anything that was not Beatles, or the Tremoloes, or Herman’s Hermits, or Emerson Lake and Palmer, or something like that, I was not really interested. Tango was number 248 on my priorities. Tango at that time was something that the elders - to me, that could be 30 or 40 years old - were listening to when they said, “kid, go play outside, we’re having a grown-up conversation.” So I associated tango music, even jazz music, with people I couldn’t talk to. I kind of put that music aside, you know, with no real reason, because I didn’t think of the greatness of the music at that moment, even less tango.

So Piazzolla was no different. I knew who Piazzolla was, but I didn’t know how big he was going to become, and how he was making his mark in Argentinian tango. He was a bandoneon player, but I didn’t know that he also was a great piano player. He studied with Nadia Boulanger, who told him that as a classical player...he should stick to tango, which is what he does best.

So he asked me if I liked the music, I said yes, I was lying. I said yes because I was afraid the he was going to slap me if I said “I don’t really care about your music.” Which was true. I didn’t care about tango, I didn’t care about boleros, I didn’t care about anything that wasn’t Beatles or pop music. So we started our conversation with a lie.

He asked me, “What kind of music do you like, besides the music that you say you like?” Well, I really liked the Beatles. I asked him what he thought about the Beatles. He told me that it was a fad, like Chuck Berry, like Little Richard. Which he was listening to, of course, because it was on the radio - radio was the most important thing happening back then, for promotion.

He started talking about what tango is. He had played in the orchestra of a famous bandoneon player, Anibal Troilo, very famous in Argentina; Piazzolla had been one of his principal bandoneon players. Piazzolla strayed from playing with that formation, and from what he had been doing with his own groups, playing music - with a different dynamic for what the tango will be. The formal time signature of the tango is 2/4, in Spanish “el dos por cuatro,” That’s a famous phrase: “el dos por cuatro” means tango no matter what, in Argentina.

So he strayed from the original form of the tango, instead of a basic rhythm of straight quarter notes, going

That’s actually what he changed in the tango. The purists of tango were disgusted, they didn’t want the tango to be altered the way Piazzolla altered it. And then, because of Piazzolla’s classical education, he put a lot of aspects of classical music into what tango became, but of course still based on popular dynamics and melodies. 

Our conversation went from, at first, very superficial...our conversation lasted around two and a half hours, over many little cups of cafe. Like, you know, espressos, but we just call them cafe.

He said that over time, I would change my mind about tango, because I would start appreciating the construction of the melodies, the richness of the lyrics, the stories. Many tangos have stories based on romance, breakups - tango is a sort of Argentinian blues, so to speak. But also many laughable situations, humorous, also social commentary and social critiques. He was explaining all that to me, and with a lot of authority.

He went into many details that at the time I didn’t understand. He was talking about the minor aspect of certain songs, like how when you go from A minor to E/Ab, the descending progression of chords, that conveys abandonment or depression - he went into the graphic, and the coloring aspect of music. And then he told me, “You will remember this conversation for the rest of your life.” I thought to myself, “Who do you think you are?” Well, life and history showed me that he was right; he was a preeminent composer in the world.

Of course, he was a wonderful bandoneon player. I’m sure that he could play other instruments, but at that time I never saw him play other instruments, except the piano. He was going over a phrase with one of his band members; he was playing really great piano. I don’t know what his training was on piano, but he mentioned Nadia Boulanger as one of his big influences on the character of what he developed later. One of the things he said was, “You don’t need anybody to tell you how good you are. You know how good you are, just go for it.” He didn’t need anyone’s opinion, and one of the things he said was, “You don’t like my music? Go and f__ off.” He was pretty assertive, adamant in the way he conducted himself. He could be pretty nice, but pushy at times, and somebody who, it felt like a hurricane going over you, with his opinions about stuff. When I left the conversation, he had to go, and I was still with my mom, it was about noon. We went for lunch to a restaurant close by, because the club only served dinner for the shows, they didn’t serve lunch. I had the feeling that I probably would remember this through the years, I didn’t know why.

I started liking tango later in life, when I was around thirty. I started listening to tango with more attention, caring about how well-crafted the melodies were, hearing some tangos that I hadn’t known existed. I really learned how to appreciate it.

Piazzolla, of course, is probably the most well-known tango exponent in the world, besides Carlos Gardel, who was the most famous singer. But I think for the rest of the world, if you mention any of the classic Argentinian tango composers, they will not remember them; probably they will remember Piazzolla. That was the guy who made himself more famous by playing with “who’s who” everywhere.

He was rather pleasant to me, paternal, kind of. He was like that with his musicians, people he was conducting at the moment.

There was only one occasion when I saw him live, at Teatro San Martin in Buenos Aires. His repertoire was 100% his compositions; he was playing just Piazzolla, with his nonet. It was many years later, when he developed into the electronic - he was actually the creator of the electronic tango. He had electric guitar, drums, synthesizers, and stuff like that.

Actually, I happen to be a Facebook friend with his son, Daniel Piazzolla, who lives in Villa La Angostura in Argentina. Sometimes I’ll make a comment, he laughs at it. He remembers what I was talking about, we have some comments back and forth.

Here are some links:

Hugo's website

La Casita de mis Viejos, one of several great Youtube videos with pianist Carlos Garcia

Libertango, one of Piazzolla's most famous pieces

You can find plenty more Astor Piazzolla, Carlos Garcia, Anibal Troilo, and Daniel Piazzolla on Youtube.