In the liner notes for an upcoming Charlie Parker box set, jazz journalist Neil Tesser writes that one of Bird’s songs suggests a style of music that wouldn’t emerge for over a decade: “…the gravity-defying ‘Constellation,’ which, with its barely sketched melody and supersonic tempo, seems to anticipate the free-jazz energy solos of the 1960s.”

Charlie Parker is one of the most influential figures in jazz, though it’s safe to say that most don’t think of the alto saxophonist in relation to the avant-garde subgenre. While one can understand how his improvisational style generally inspired the foremost free jazz musicians, it’s another thing to come to that conclusion when listening to a particular Parker track.

“Constellation” was recorded by Parker’s quintet in 1948 and released on a single by Savoy Records. Written by Bird and credited to Charlie Parker’s All Stars, the group included a young Miles Davis. On “Constellation,” Parker’s soloing frequently sounds frantic and, at times, delightfully skronky—just like the best free jazz does.
 

 
Dangerous Minds has the premiere of the fantastic, freshly remastered “Constellation” from The Savoy 10-inch LP Collection:
 

 
In the early 1950s, Savoy placed “Constellation” and the other revolutionary bebop tracks Charlie Parker recorded for the label from 1944-48 on a succession of 10-inch LPs. The audio and artwork for the four records in the New Sounds in Modern Music series have been restored for The Savoy 10-inch LP Collection box, which also includes a booklet with photos and Neil Tesser’s insightful notes.
 

 
The Savoy 10-inch LP Collection will be released February 28th by Craft Recordings on vinyl and digital formats. Pre-order the set here or head directly to Amazon.
 

 
Pianist Hal Galper and his quintet covered “Constellation” on the 1999 album, Let’s Call This That, and their full-on free jazz interpretation of Bird’s groundbreaking piece is both logical and highly satisfying.
 

 
Happy birthday to the Yardbird. Immortal.

Here’s a truly groovy clip of Charlie Parker and Dizzy Gillespie performing “Hot House” at the 1951 Down Beat Jazz Awards.
 

 
A friend of mine once told me how, when Igor Stravinsky happened to wander, purely by accident, into a Charlie Parker set in New York with some friends, he was so shocked by what he was hearing that, in the midst of Parker’s set, he rose to his feet, clapped a hand on his brow, bellowed “OH MY GOD,” and ran out the establishment.

Only dared double-check this charming vignette today, and found that, though the historical record might not be quite as picturesque as my friend’s account (and nowhere near so happenstance), it ain’t too shabby neither—yes, scotch reportedly flew when these two musical universes happily collided at Birdland in 1951. The following excerpt is by Alfred Appel and is from Jazz Modernism (I found it here):

Charlie Parker enthusiasts circa 1950 often declared him the jazz equivalent of Stravinsky and Bartok, and asserted that he’d absorbed their music, though skeptics countered that there was no evidence he was even familiar with it. Parker himself clarified the issue for me one night in the winter of 1951, at New York’s premier modern jazz club, Birdland, at Broadway and Fifty-second Street. It was Saturday night, Parker’s quintet was the featured attraction, and he was in his prime, it seemed. I had a good table near the front, on the left side of the bandstand, below the piano. The house was almost full, even before the opening set — Billy Taylor’s piano trio — except for the conspicuous empty table to my right, which bore a RESERVED sign, unusual for Birdland. After the pianist finished his forty-five-minute set, a party of four men and a woman settled in at the table, rather clamorously, three waiters swooping in quickly to take their orders as a ripple of whispers and exclamations ran through Birdland at the sight of one of the men, Igor Stravinsky. He was a celebrity, and an icon to jazz fans because he sanctified modern jazz by composing Ebony Concerto for Woody Herman and his Orchestra (1946) — a Covarrubias “Impossible Interview” come true.

As Parker’s quintet walked onto the bandstand, trumpeter Red Rodney recognized Stravinsky, front and almost center. Rodney leaned over and told Parker, who did not look at Stravinsky. Parker immediately called the first number for his band, and, forgoing the customary greeting to the crowd, was off like a shot. At the sound of the opening notes, played in unison by trumpet and alto, a chill went up and down the back of my neck. They were playing “KoKo,” which, because of its epochal breakneck tempo — over three hundred beats per minute on the metronome — Parker never assayed before his second set, when he was sufficiently warmed up. Parker’s phrases were flying as fluently as ever on this particular daunting “Koko.” At the beginning of his second chorus he interpolated the opening of Stravinsky’s Firebird Suite as though it had always been there, a perfect fit, and then sailed on with the rest of the number. Stravinsky roared with delight, pounding his glass on the table, the upward arc of the glass sending its liquor and ice cubes onto the people behind him, who threw up their hands or ducked. The hilarity of the audience didn’t distract Parker, who, playing with his eyes wide open and fixed on the middle distance, never once looked at Stravinsky. The loud applause at the conclusion of “Koko” stopped in mid-clap, so to speak, as Parker, again without a word, segued into his gentle version of “All the Things You Are.” Stravinsky was visibly moved. Did he know that Parker’s 1947 record of the song was issued under the title “Bird of Paradise?”

Sounds like quite a night! Here’s some fantastic Charlie Parker footage…
 

 

 
I really like these hand-painted vinyl records from artist Daniel Edlen. According to his web site, Daniel also does drawings of authors on their books. I’m partial to the Zappa, natch.

 

 
See more of Daniel’s work after the jump…