Not everyone who admires Charlie Parker will place him at the pinnacle of American popular music. But probably most will agree that he was a great practitioner of the 20^th century art of jazz improvisation. It seems impossible to deny as well that he was a natural musical genius — a person whose vast talent, like that of Mozart in the European classical tradition, cannot be explained any other way.

In the most important sense none of this matters deeply. In the end jazz is the music of democracy. There can finally be no single greatest jazz musician of all or any time and place.

Historians of the music today sometimes say that Louis Armstrong was the most influential archetype for traditional jazz in the 1920s and 1930s, and Charlie Parker for modern jazz in the 1940s and 1950s. Just to start with, however, Duke Ellington ought to be mentioned too, for the orchestrated big band jazz of the swing era, that dominated the 1930s and 1940s. And this quickly points to the other aristocrat of swing, Count Basie.

And then, far beyond any such handful of eminent names, the greatest attraction of jazz is its human diversity, and openness to all forms and levels of talent. Anyone who likes listening to the music can produce personal lists of assorted-size stars, old and young, live and dead, and on and on.

The great majority of working musicians in any genre are not virtuosi. And you do not have to be a virtuoso to play great jazz. (As shown dramatically by the career of Charlie Parker's fellow modern jazz pioneer Thelonius Monk, in whose life and death the Baroness de Koenigswarter played a part as well.) On Charlie Parker's own testimony everyone is not meant to sound like Charlie Parker. As the legend has him say: "Music is your own experience, your thoughts, your wisdom. If you don't live it, it won't come out of your horn."

The merely competent baritone saxophone player (but gifted arranger), Gerry Mulligan, has spoken more exactly about Parker's aggressive commitment to the music of democracy:

We went over to the Downbeat, and Bird was going to sit in with Don Byas ... I sat and listened to a set or two and by this time it was getting late ... I was getting ready to go because I had to be up the next day, and so I went over to Bird and said to him, "I've really enjoyed it. Thanks a lot and hope I see you again soon, and all that kind of stuff." He said, "No, you can't go. You have to play." I said, "No, man, come on — play with you guys? Don't be ridiculous. I'd be scared to death." He said, "Now wait a minute." He went to the checkroom and got my horn out and put it together and blew on it and said, "Okay," handed it to me and said, "Now, go play." So, I had to go play with Don and Bird. I don't know what the hell I played. I have absolutely no idea because it scared the living daylights out of me playing with these guys. I felt way out of my league. But, Bird was complimentary and was very nice to me and encouraged me, and that was great, you know...

Other sites and sources

Gerry Mulligan first became well known for the piano-less quartet he and trumpet-player Chet Baker put together in the 1950s. His Jeru: In the words of Gerry Mulligan — An oral autobiography is available from the Library of Congress on the net.