Parkeology 011: Consternation

Bird was a wizard at transmitting musical messages to us. If he was in the act of blowing his sax, he would find something to express and would want you to guess his thoughts. – Gene Ramey

Biographers Ross Russell and Stanley Crouch abused this invitation to a fare-thee-well, but I won’t pretend to tap into Bird’s inner monologue. I will only try to guess his thoughts on May 8, 1947, a troubled and discouraging occasion.

Bird recorded four tunes for Savoy Records that day (“Donna Lee,” “Chasin’ The Bird,” “Cheryl,” “Buzzy”) accompanied by Miles Davis, Bud Powell, Tommy Potter, and Max Roach. This recording session marked his return to New York City after a traumatic period in LA, and is referred to informally as his “homecoming” session.

Bird must have had high hopes for this date. He was back in New York at last, busy assembling his dream quintet. This process had begun before he left, with his first session as a leader, on November 26, 1945. Miles and Max were on that Savoy date, as well, and Bud had been hired as the pianist but failed to show. They persevered with “Hen Gates” at the piano, and three weeks later Bird was in LA, where he ended up staying for the next fifteen months.

So in many ways he was picking up where he left off. But his conception had evolved throughout his time in LA, even during his incarceration at Camarillo, growing more syncopated and oblique (Parkeology 010). Presumably, he hoped to document these advances in the studio, and you can hear him attempting to do so on “Donna Lee,” the first tune recorded.

Ominously, Take 1 opens with a bad squawk by Bird on the first two notes of the theme, Miles misses his entrance and then drops out entirely, and they never make it past the first eight bars.

For the record, Bird squawks on the first two notes on every take, including the master. Some have suggested he was intentionally playing them down an octave. I consider this far fetched.

Over the course of Take 2, it becomes clear that Bird is under some kind of curse, and three more takes of “Donna Lee” are required to produce anything usable. By the end of Take 5, Bird’s hopes have been reduced to ashes.

Here’s his Take 2 solo. Subtle fingering flaws and articulation problems are everywhere, but it’s more than just that. He’s having trouble connecting his phrases, and his ideas lack their usual flow and coherence. By the end of his first sixteen bars, Bird knows he’s blown the take (I fade it out there) but he carries on anyway and they make it to the end.

Take 3 suffers from more of the same. For a man who said, “Ever since I’ve ever heard music, I’ve always thought it should be very clean, very precise,” this sloppy execution must have been disconcerting. (I include Bird’s first chorus only.)

All this is hard to account for until you remember that Bird was striving for deeper syncopation and more asymmetrical phrasing, advances he’d conceived of while in exile in LA. We take these concepts for granted in his mature work, but they were achieved through a sustained effort of will during this period. Despite much processing on the bandstand at the Hi-De-Ho Club, Bird still couldn’t quite pull it together, at least in the confines of the studio.

After five grueling takes of “Donna Lee,” Bird comes to terms with this, and his solos on “Chasin’ the Bird,” recorded next, have a distinct air of resignation about them. But he also sounds philosophical, as though accepting his fate. He’s done struggling, and thereafter lets syncopation and phrasing fall where they may, relinquishing any conscious effort.

His solos immediately improve. He’s telling a different story now, more earnest and unguarded. Solos like these are hard to come by in the studio, where Bird often has more pressing concerns. The relaxed tempo also contributes to the mood of casual conversation.   

Here he is on Take 1 of “Chasin’ the Bird,” which immediately followed Take 5 of “Donna Lee.”

Take 2 of “Chasin’ the Bird” is a false start, but Take 3 has another complete solo, very much in the spirit of Take 1.

“Cheryl,” one of Bird’s greatest blues lines, is tackled next. It’s the successor to “Relaxin’ at Camarillo,” and displays the same advances in syncopation and phrasing. Bird’s solo on Take 1, though directionless, is at least free of conspicuous flaws. Under the circumstances, this makes it exceptional, and “Cheryl” goes down in one take.

Bird’s troubles aren’t behind him, though. Given it’s a simple B-flat blues, the final tune, “Buzzy,” should have gone down in one take, as well. Instead, Bird can’t get out of his own way, and fingering problems mount to the point of embarrassment. Here’s a medley of worst moments from Takes 1 through 4.

The opening of Bird’s solo on Take 5, the master, can’t be fully appreciated without having heard the jinxed alternate takes. His thoughts here are easy to guess: total exasperation!

Some of the failures of Bird’s homecoming session can be laid at the feet of overambition, but there’s another factor to consider: Bird may well have been drunk. 

Whenever Bird is in bad form, alcohol is invariably the culprit, and we know he used it as a substitute for heroin. We also know he was clean when he left Camarillo. Witnesses, however, report that he was drinking heavily on the Hi-De-Ho gig, and this is borne out by the recordings. The craving for heroin, it appears, was unrelenting, even when he was no longer physically addicted.

What we don’t know is when Bird became fully addicted again, if ever. It wasn’t long after his return to New York, though, that both Dizzy and Howard McGhee concluded he was backsliding. This dates it sometime in May. 

I contend that Bird’s backslide was a direct result of this recording session. This involves guessing Bird’s thoughts absent any evidence whatsoever (shove down, Russell and Crouch). Should you part company with me here, you’re only being prudent.

I will make my argument, unseemly though it may be, next time.