Chet Baker
It Could Happen to You: Chet Baker Sings

Sometimes I hear that when talking about an artist, especially in music, a distinction must be made between their music and the way they appear. Sure, if we’re referring to the crumpling of musical values today, I can only agree with such voices. But sometimes it's hard not to get passionate about the character itself, about their persona. In short, I could listen to Chet Baker in a live session even without audio and still find pleasure.

No, I'm not crazy. And those who have seen some footage (few to be honest) especially in black and white of young Chet Baker know what I'm talking about. Masterful interpretations lived with incredible pathos in an emotional crescendo due to facial expressions that are extraordinary. Eyes closed, sometimes sitting on a chair, chasing the invisible line of his emotions. Because you know, I find Baker's music more real than you can imagine. Maybe we are compatible, maybe I find an anchor in the melancholy that transparently emanates from his notes, maybe when I listen to him it's as if he knows exactly how I feel. And consequently, he puts into music what I feel. As I always say, it’s an inexplicable alchemy that goes beyond any mathematical logic.

Chet Baker suffered a lot. As a young man, he served in the military multiple times, then had to start from the bottom in the worst venues, until meeting two people who would later change his life, namely Gerry Mulligan (with whom he played in a quartet) and the monumental Charlie Parker, our ‘bird’. It took time for the young man to find his true artistic identity, going through multiple instruments until he arrived at the one that transformed him into a jazz icon, the trumpet. It’s undisputed, at least for me, that his way of interpreting music has ties to his past experiences. Difficult experiences that unfortunately corner you. Baker repeatedly fell into drugs, without ever fully recovering. It's said that at one point, he was so desperately in need of money for his 'doses' that he increased the sales of his songs even when it wasn't necessary. That problem with his teeth almost became a symbol, which compromised his figure forever. Despite what he wanted people to believe (a bottle to the face in a fight), rumors that attribute this to drugs gain more traction. And it was drugs that led him in 1988 to a death that is still debated today. He might have committed suicide in Amsterdam while staying in a hotel, but the possibility of an accident, after having taken drugs, cannot be excluded.

But let's get back to us. It was 1956 when, after the success of ‘Chet Baker Sings’, he released ‘It Could Happen To You’. An antithesis immediately arises between the cover and the contents of the album. The image is of two lovers exchanging smiles in an almost ‘joyful’ way. None of the songs reflect this. Rivers of melancholy that spread in the air like a vortex of passion and nostalgia. About a dozen compositions, which some may find similar to each other, loaded with pathos. Not rich in instruments, reduced to the bare minimum, (not like Coleman’s free jazz but almost) consisting of voice and trumpet plus an impeccable piano that always intervenes at the right time without ever clashing. The tracks alternate in an intertwining of songs expressing an almost ephemeral happiness that transforms over time into the usual melancholic sweetness, and others that are true slow tracks for a starry night. The first two, ‘Do it the Hard Way’ and ‘I’m Old Fashioned’, are stunning and immediately set the listener on the right track. The title track is wonderful, among the most beautiful I remember (even at a lyrical level). Equally superb is ‘Everything happens to me’ and the final ‘Old Devil Moon’. But just to mention a few titles, you will not find filler or lesser tracks, also because I tend to evaluate albums like these as a whole, one big block.

And it was through brilliant albums like this that Baker assumed the role of a key figure in Cool Jazz. The Luigi Tenco of Jazz, to discover and rediscover. A melancholy far too contagious.

To listen to on a rainy night while thoughts pile up in a disordered way.