Deep in a Dream: The Long Night of Chet Baker

James Gavin's biography of Chet Baker is a welcome relief compared to the biography of Keith Jarrett I read last week. Instead of the constant and fulsome praise, Gavin reveals himself to be an objective fan and biographer of Baker's inconsistent musical work and self-destructive life. Although it occasionally became tedious to read in great detail much of Baker's efforts to stone himself into oblivion with heroin, coke, or other drugs, this biography manages to stay interesting and readable. After a certain point, however, one bores of hearing about all the many people Baker disappointed, exploited, or neglected. 

But, Gavin manages to balance the sordid details of Chet's life with the trajectory of his musical career. As an objective observer, he notes how Baker's sound was defined early in his career and he spent the remainder of his time endeavoring to perfect that smooth, lyrical tone. Unlike, say, Miles Davis, he often surrounded himself by inferior sidemen, which weakened his live performances and recordings. Baker's declining physical and mental health likewise contributed. The loss of teeth, learning to play the trumpet again, and the impact of decades of drug use on his body led to a prematurely aging man who, perhaps, proved what some early critics noted all along: Baker was lifted to the heights of trumpet stardom without necessarily possessing the required chops or discipline. 

Mulligan noted it, and a number of black jazz musicians were aware of Baker's shortcomings. Baker happened to come along at the right place at the right time: southern California, the rise of a West Coast jazz aesthetic, white, and good-looking. The alleged values and virtues of West Coast jazz could be perfectly encapsulated in Baker's angelic face and easy-going, yet vulnerable music. Women and girls loved him, his whiteness opened doors that few black jazz musicians could have accessed at that time. Yet, Baker, who perhaps was a small-minded person who only wanted to stay high, play trumpet, and be "cool" comes off as an irredeemable man with a career littered with sub-standard recordings. 

As a tortured genius or artist, one can see why Gavin speculates that Europeans appreciated Baker more than Americans, but it is difficult for me to justify listening to most of Baker's recordings after the early zenith of the Gerry Mulligan Quartet, Baker's own Quartet with Russ Freeman, and a handful of later recordings in Europe. Of course, after losing more teeth in the late 1960s, Baker did come back stronger as a player in a "harder" style, more akin to bop and Miles, but not enough to sustain my interest. In the end, Baker's life and music remain a tragic reminder of the importance of one's decisions and ultimate responsibility. Chet, unfortunately, chose the path of no responsibility and suffered the consequences of failing as a father, husband, provider, and artist.