Carol:
Birdland Lullaby
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| Mourning Dove |
My husband is a collector. He keeps books, magazines and other hobby paraphernalia all over the house. That includes a shelf in our bedroom with 22 books on birds and bird-watching. Binoculars of varying sizes and quality are stored in closets although his favorites are in the drawer of the washstand by our front door, ready to grab when he heads out on the morning walk. Birding has become a passion for him, and it has become enjoyable for me as well. I like to sit on my deck and recognize the symphony of bird songs Marc has taught me to recognize: phainopeplas, mourning doves, Gambel’s quail and Steller’s Jays.
Just below the shelf with 22 bird books is a very large book representing another of Marc’s more recent passions, jazz. The book is Jazz: A History of America’s Music (Ward and Burns) which we bought for Marc along with a set of CD’s from the soundtrack of Ken Burns’ 19-hour PBS documentary (2000). When I told Marc today’s topic was “bird music,” he immediately responded “Charlie Parker.”
Charlie “Bird” Parker, the great jazz saxophonist, got his nickname “Yardbird” only because he loved to eat chicken. It became shortened to “Bird,” a nickname he played off in in such jazz compositions as “Yardbird Suite,” “Ornithology,” and “Bird of Paradise” (source: “Charlie Parker).
By the early 1950’s Charlie Parker was at the height of his career and influence on the American jazz scene. Bass player Charlie Mingus wrote a tune honoring the musician he admired so much, titled “Gunslinging Bird.” Parker’s unique chord changes, built off 12-bar blues chords, became known as “Bird Changes.” The Birdland Jazz Club in New York City was named for him , and he was the headliner at the club’s 1949 opening. One of the most famous jazz songs of all times was a direct reference to Parker and the club, George Shearing’s 1952 “Lullaby of Birdland.”Unfortunately, Charlie “Bird” Parker’s personal life was marked by chronic abuse of alcohol and heroin. In the late 1940’s he was committed to the Camarillo State Mental Hospital in California, where he stayed for six months. He was even banned from the Birdland Jazz Club. When he died on March 12, 1955, he was only 34-years old. Actor/Director/Composer Clint Eastwood turned Parker’s story into the excellent 1988 film Bird starring Forest Whitaker. Whitaker researched Parker’s life thoroughly and even took saxophone lessons to prepare for the part, which won him a Best Actor Award at the 1988 Cannes Film Festival (source: “Forest Whitaker”).
Okay, so I’m a bit of a collector myself. I have a stack of piano music in a closet off the living-room, much of it from the 1950’s when I was learning to play the piano. Right underneath the Czerny book of scales is the sheet music for “Lullaby of Birdland” with George Shearing’s picture on the front. It actually belonged to my older brother Doug, the brother who drove me crazy with his bongo drums and loud rock-and-roll music on the record player, especially "Rock Around the Clock.” But, I loved to listen to him play the piano, hunched over the keyboard and looking cool. If I close my eyes and concentrate, I can still see him in the corner of the living-room leaning over the keys and I can still hear the notes of that jazz piece.
Thanks to Marc, I enjoy bird music. Thanks to Doug, I enjoy Birdland music.
Sources:
“Charlie Parker.” Wikipedia.
“Forest Whitaker.” Wikipedia.
Image of Mourning Dove. Althepal modified by snowmanradio. Wikimedia Commons.
“Charlie Parker.” Wikipedia.
“Forest Whitaker.” Wikipedia.
Image of Mourning Dove. Althepal modified by snowmanradio. Wikimedia Commons.
Megan:
Did you hear that?
Before I got Bella, I used to turn down going on walks with my dad because I thought he was going to talk about birds all the time, and stop every 3 feet to look through his binoculars at birds, and ask me all the time if I could hear the birds.
For the record, I can almost never hear the birds. There’s an entire world of sounds around me that I can neither detect nor identify. (Just this exact very second, as I was typing this, I felt a fly crawled into my ear. I could hear it buzzing and I had a moment of panic about whether or not I should stick my finger in my ear, what if I squashed the fly and there were dead fly parts stuck inside my ear forever? But it turned out the sound was my phone on vibrate. There was no fly, I was just getting a text message.) Most of the time, it doesn’t bother me that I can’t hear. My father hears things I can’t. Big deal, so does the dog.
He (my father, not the dog) can identify birds by their sounds. We’ll be walking along in the early morning quiet and he’ll suddenly stop and say, “Did you hear that? That’s a Bottle-neck Toey.” Then, in a higher voice, he says “Drink your teeeea.’” And we’ll pause and sometimes I do hear it – a chirping sound with the same rhythm and number of syllables as “Drink your teeeeea”.
There’s one bird he’s really obsessed with lately, which apparently whistles like it’s trying to get my attention. He whistles to mimic the sound, and I can hear him. The other night at dinner, Dad put down the fork and said, “Did you hear that?” and my mother nodded. “It’s a Fee-No-Pep-La. Megan can’t hear it.”
My mother looked at me, surprised. “You can’t hear it?”
“No.” I said, “I can’t hear it.”
And then both of them were whistling at me, like they were trying to get my attention, a quick short whispered whistle and, again, I could hear them just fine. Then there was be a long pause, and my mom said, “You still can’t hear it?”
For the record, I can almost never hear the birds. There’s an entire world of sounds around me that I can neither detect nor identify. (Just this exact very second, as I was typing this, I felt a fly crawled into my ear. I could hear it buzzing and I had a moment of panic about whether or not I should stick my finger in my ear, what if I squashed the fly and there were dead fly parts stuck inside my ear forever? But it turned out the sound was my phone on vibrate. There was no fly, I was just getting a text message.) Most of the time, it doesn’t bother me that I can’t hear. My father hears things I can’t. Big deal, so does the dog.
He (my father, not the dog) can identify birds by their sounds. We’ll be walking along in the early morning quiet and he’ll suddenly stop and say, “Did you hear that? That’s a Bottle-neck Toey.” Then, in a higher voice, he says “Drink your teeeea.’” And we’ll pause and sometimes I do hear it – a chirping sound with the same rhythm and number of syllables as “Drink your teeeeea”.
There’s one bird he’s really obsessed with lately, which apparently whistles like it’s trying to get my attention. He whistles to mimic the sound, and I can hear him. The other night at dinner, Dad put down the fork and said, “Did you hear that?” and my mother nodded. “It’s a Fee-No-Pep-La. Megan can’t hear it.”
My mother looked at me, surprised. “You can’t hear it?”
“No.” I said, “I can’t hear it.”
And then both of them were whistling at me, like they were trying to get my attention, a quick short whispered whistle and, again, I could hear them just fine. Then there was be a long pause, and my mom said, “You still can’t hear it?”
No.
So, this is what I was hoping to avoid by not going on the walks. But as you can see, there is no avoiding it at the dinner table, and Bella has to be walked. Turns out there are plenty of other things I can talk about with my father, and there’s other wildlife to watch and listen for – I can hear the coyotes howl just fine. But still, I’ll be in the middle of an involved story about this funny thing I saw on Youtube and how explaining it doesn’t really do it justice so I’ll just show him when we get home and then I realize he’s not walking next to me anymore. So I turn around and he’s got the binoculars up, panning the tree line and he says, “Did you hear that?”
So, this is what I was hoping to avoid by not going on the walks. But as you can see, there is no avoiding it at the dinner table, and Bella has to be walked. Turns out there are plenty of other things I can talk about with my father, and there’s other wildlife to watch and listen for – I can hear the coyotes howl just fine. But still, I’ll be in the middle of an involved story about this funny thing I saw on Youtube and how explaining it doesn’t really do it justice so I’ll just show him when we get home and then I realize he’s not walking next to me anymore. So I turn around and he’s got the binoculars up, panning the tree line and he says, “Did you hear that?”
Carol- Thank you for the kind assessment of my piano-playing skills, but you are far too generous. I usually learned only the first ten bars or so of songs like "Lullaby of Birdland", "Take Five", and "As time Goes By" and then played the heck out of them. I only remember learning 2 music pieces all the way through: "Bumble Boogie" and "Mozart's Sonata in C Major." As to looking cool while poised over the piano, what you couldn't see was the imaginary cigarette hanging from my lower lip, dark glasses, tip jar, and the redhead seated at the bar waiting to take me home after my imaginary gig. Ccccoooool, Daddy-O!
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