In Take Five: The Public and Private Lives of Paul Desmond, I included a long letter from 1949 in which Paul told his father, in precise language, why he did not want to be another Charlie Parker imitator. Two excerpts:
The question of to bop or not to bop has been a gnawing one ever since I began working at the Band Box on Monday nites with Howard Keith. Ever since then, I‘ve been in, out, above, beneath, and on the fringes of bop as it is played in San Francisco. And although my playing has fluctuated back and forth quite a bit, I still stick to my original reaction. I like to listen to bop, I admire its originators, but I can’t see the point in throwing away one’s individuality and working like mad to become a carbon copy of Charlie Parker. Even if what you play isn’t as good, as long as it’s your own it should be valid. The only other alternative is to play bop and still remain individual, which I’ll be damned if I can figure out how to do.
I couldn’t see it. The qualities in music which I considered most important—and still do—were beauty, simplicity, originality, discrimination, and sincerity. There is no originality in the act of copying, and no discrimination in the all-inclusive way in which it was done.
Another young saxophonist who thought a good deal about Parker was a student at the Eastman School in the early 1950s. He is Ned Corman, who went on to be president of the The Commission Project, which makes possible the composing and performance of new works in American music. His experience with Parker was more typical than Desmond’s of the gravitational pull that Bird exerted on young musicians.
Your various comments about PD holding to his voice in the frequently overwhelming forces from the East Coast school touched me deeply. Those forces, for better or worse, slid me away from my high school heroes, PD, Konitz, Pepper. Within a year or so after matriculating at Eastman School of Music in 1955, I lost focus on simplicity and beauty, falling under Bird’s spell and peer influence. Technique remains a priority for almost all players.
I can honestly say there is nothing in my life – except for being a more thoughtful and considerate person – that, if I had the chance to redo, I would. Your wonderful book, in various places, made me say to Linda, my wife; you know, I wonder what my music would have become had I been less impressionable in ’55.
To learn about Ned Corman and The Commission project, go here.