Being a historian for a living and a musician for pleasure, I tend to think that you can't understand what Charlie Parker did without understanding jazz as working for a living rather than jazz as art or theory. Playing in a big band section, multiple sets every night, you are going to get to know those changes inside and out and upside down. Bird came up memorizing Lester Young solos, and Lester was a master at playing clever, surprising things over familiar changes--accenting unexpected beats, starting on unexpected notes. He was puckish and funny and sly. Harmonically, that's a lot of what I hear in bop--"what else can I do with How High the Moon? Can I use these notes most people avoid?" It's partly being sick of it, and also being young and hip and fed up with some bandleader telling you what to play.
Then in my opinion in America there's always the race piece. The media called Benny Goodman the King of Swing: part of the impulse behind bebop was busting the balls of swing guys and also of a world which could not tell the difference between Glenn Miller and Lester. I'm not saying race is everything, Bird was perfectly happy to listen to and play with white guys who could play. But I always see building bop heads on familiar changes as kind of an ironic commentary, a form of "signifying" in the African American tradition. An ironic twist on the familiar.
The way they loosened up the beat was cool too, and also kind of ironic--dropping accents in unexpected places, finding new ways to propel the tune. There are lots of ways to understand what he did--I think a lot of it had to do with being a young black guy in a segregated country playing show tunes in a section.
Every time I get called to play a bop tune I can feel the straightjacket of diatonic harmony. Tonic cycle cycle cycle tonic. It's like being locked in a room; you've examined every inch of it and there's nowhere else to go anymore. Really makes me understand why Miles wanted to go modal. I wish Bird had lived to see the modal era, but I doubt he would have been comfortable with it. He was the Bernini of diatonic harmony, the master of its baroque period.
Then in my opinion in America there's always the race piece. The media called Benny Goodman the King of Swing: part of the impulse behind bebop was busting the balls of swing guys and also of a world which could not tell the difference between Glenn Miller and Lester. I'm not saying race is everything, Bird was perfectly happy to listen to and play with white guys who could play. But I always see building bop heads on familiar changes as kind of an ironic commentary, a form of "signifying" in the African American tradition. An ironic twist on the familiar.
The way they loosened up the beat was cool too, and also kind of ironic--dropping accents in unexpected places, finding new ways to propel the tune. There are lots of ways to understand what he did--I think a lot of it had to do with being a young black guy in a segregated country playing show tunes in a section.
Every time I get called to play a bop tune I can feel the straightjacket of diatonic harmony. Tonic cycle cycle cycle tonic. It's like being locked in a room; you've examined every inch of it and there's nowhere else to go anymore. Really makes me understand why Miles wanted to go modal. I wish Bird had lived to see the modal era, but I doubt he would have been comfortable with it. He was the Bernini of diatonic harmony, the master of its baroque period.
