STITT'S BITS: THE BEBOP RECORDINGS
1949-1952
Sonny Stitt

Prestige

The rap on Sonny Stitt has always been that he was a particularly skilled imitator of Charlie Parker, a man who understood bebop and its harmonic structure backwards and forwards, but not an innovator. And, listening to his considerable discography, peppered as it is (especially in later years) with both brialliant and mediocre performances, it is easy to get this impression. Stitt didn’t really develop his playing or align himself with a particular school when bebop dissolved into the post-bop era during the 1950s. It’s true that other saxophonists, notably Dexter Gordon and Johnny Griffin, continued to mine their bop chops throughout their careers, but both did evolve and when one listens to later Dexter Gordon recordings, one can at least discern that John Coltrane, for example, happened. Stitt, on the other hand, remained locked in a kind of time capsule, playing endless processions of standard material, often with pick-up rhythm sections.

This whole view of Stitt conveniently ignores something that Harvey Pekar emphasizes in his liner notes to this beautiful box set of Stitt’ srecordings between 1949 and 1952: there is some evidence that Stitt had developed his style of playing by 1942, when he was working with bandleader Tiny Bradshaw. Miles Davis is on record as saying that when he heard Stitt with Bradshaw in ’42 his style was already fully developed. He certainly had his own tone—drier and somewhat sharper than Bird’s. It would be ludicrous to claim that Stitt was never influenced by Parker—every subsequent saxophonist was. However, Stitt brought his own considerable talent to the table, and is often seen as the saxophonist who made Parker’s music and ideas more palatable to the jazz listening public than Bird himself was able to do.

The recordings contained on this box set begin with 1949 sessions with J.J. Johnson and Bud Powell, recorded shortly after Stitt was released from a yearlong incarceration due to his narcotics abuse. On both of these, and many other sessions here as well, Stitt plays tenor saxophone, presumably at least in part to distance himself from the Parker comparisons. Stitt’s tenor conception is fully realized, with a warm but modern tone and an ability to play long, over-the-bar phrases that link him not only to Parker but also to Lester Young, the most boppish of pre-bop tenor players. Johnson and Stitt front Jay Jay Johnson’s boppers, a quintet whose rhythm section is comprised of John Lewis, Nelson Boyd, and Max Roach. They perform a great series of tunes to open Disc One, four tunes, each with an alternate version: Lewis’ “Afternoon in Paris,” and the Johnson compositions “Elora,” “Teapot,” and “Blue Mode.” These are solid performances by both Stitt and Johnson, whose near-vibratoless playing set the standard for the post-big band era in terms of trombone playing. The fifteen total tracks recorded with Bud Powell, along with bassist Curly Russell and Roach again on drums, are truly spectacular. Powell is at the top of his form, and Stitt rises to the occasion, blowing kinetic tenor choruses that sound so effortless, one is left breathless. Included are the December 1949 sessions credited to the Sonny Stitt/Bud Powell Quartet, and the January 1950 sessions credited to the Sonny Stitt Quartet, though both are the same band. This series of tracks are practically worth the set’s price in themselves, and are a must for both Stitt and Powell fans.

Central to the recordings contained on these CDs are performances that feature Stitt in the company of Chicago-born, soulful tenorman Gene Ammons. Whether credited to the Gene Ammons/Sonny Stitt Band, the Gene Ammons Band, the Sonny Stitt Band, or some sessions backing vocalist Teddy Williams, the two play together on a large percentage of the tracks contained herein. Discs Two and Three are peppered with these Stitt/Ammons sessions, and they are mostly wonderful. Interspersed are sessions featuring Stitt’s own quartet which includes, at various times, Duke Jordan, Gene Wright, Junior Mance, and Art Blakey. NPR commentator Murray Horwitz says this about Ammons and Stitt:

Stitt is heard not only on tenor sax, but also on alto, with his trademark hard-edged, dry sound, as well as on baritone sax. He acquits himself well on baritone, and may well have ranked among jazz’s best players of the instrument had he done more playing and recording on it. As it is, we get some nicely constructed, if at times overly short solo turns, such as that on the blues-drenched “Chabootie.” Most of these baritone tracks are septet recordings, but there are two real payoff tracks, “P.S. I Love You” and “This Can’t Be Love” on which Stitt plays baritone sax backed only by a rhythm section, his work is smooth, funky, and laudable.

Stitt’s initial time with the Prestige label ended in 1952, though he returned to record for the label again in the 1960s and 70s. When Charlie Parker passed away in 1955, Stitt returned to playing largely alto saxophone. Though there are few low points in his discography of something approaching 100 albums, his very workmanlike consistency may have posed a problem for some listeners. With so much Sonny available and most of it pretty good, no small handful of recordings stuck out as the absolute best of Stitt. Stitt’s Bits goes a long way towards making the case for Stitt as an original, and a damned fine one at that. It also sheds light on some of the most amazing recording years of a man who will no doubt someday be recognized as an essential jazz musician.