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As Though I Had Wings: The Lost Memoir
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About As Though I Had Wings: The Lost Memoir
Product Description The late jazz legend offers his memories of the jazz scene of the 1950s and his decline from drug use in the early 1960s Amazon.com Review Chet Baker, poster child for West Coast Cool Jazz and patron saint of its notorious lush life, kept a diary. Published by his estate and introduced by his widow, his entries have been tailored to a memoir of his life from 1946 to 1963. These are the years of his rise to stardom in music and movies--and his tumble into the trenches of incarceration and drug abuse. The book is divided into 13 quick-reading chapters in which Baker writes of his life as a musician, all seasoned with tales of drugs, prison terms, and a laundry list of romances. Often, though, his writings are not spicy enough; births, deaths, pregnancies, and car chases are noted without much detail. What must have been extremely charged times are written about with a kind of academic disinterest: "Moving quickly toward the noise, as did everyone else, I saw Dick lying on the floor. He had passed out cold, and several people were trying to figure out what was wrong with him. We located a doctor and cleared the stage area. I should point out that Dick had always taken care of business; always at work on time and always playing exceptionally." While some readers may be disappointed by the lack of layered passion one hears in Baker's voice or in the smooth and solid sound of his horn, there is still considerable value in reading his own account of his story. From Kirkus Reviews A posthumous sliver of autobiography from one of the heroes of '50s jazz. Although Baker, a brilliantly laid-back trumpeter and vacantly compelling vocalist, was at the forefront of the ``cool'' jazz movement, his career foundered early because of his heroin addiction and hapless propensity for getting into hot water. His memoir glides from childhood through his entry into the thriving West Coast jazz scene and the busy years of his first success. Baker grew up poor in Oklahoma and L.A., dropping out of high school at age 16 to join the army. He played in the army band (``Since there wasn't anything alcoholic to drink, some of the guys mixed Aqua Velva with fruit juice''), then got himself discharged in order to concentrate on playing jazz. He jammed with Dexter Gordon, served a stint as Charlie Parker's sideman, achieved widespread notice in Gerry Mulligan's combo, and was jailed more than once for drug use. Baker notes with bleak cheer the first time he tried pot: ``I loved it, and continued to smoke grass for the next eight years, until I began chipping and finally got strung out on stuff. I enjoyed heroin very much, and used it almost continually, in one form or another, for the next twenty years.'' Later, deep in junkiedom, he confides, ``I traveled to Munich . . . and got in some trouble. I wasn't prosecuted, but they did hold me for three weeks.'' At such moments, Baker's near-apathy, muffled humor, and refusal to emote seem like a perfect prose analogue to his chillingly affectless singing style. The memoir peters out in 1963, by which time Baker (who died in 1988) was working precariously in Europe. Even when discussing his peak years, Baker concentrates more on drug busts than music. Still, this is a morbidly fascinating window onto his hobbled genius. -- Copyright ©1997, Kirkus Associates, LP. All rights reserved.
