Chet Baker
‘Live In Paris: The Radio France Recordings 1983-1984’
Elemental Music

In 1952, a 21-year-old trumpeter from Oklahoma named Chet Baker established himself as one the few real superstars of contemporary jazz by both playing and singing with an unmistakable lyricism and at the same time an overwhelming intensity. And though he came from the Midwest and spent relatively little time in California, he was one of the foremost architects of what jazz fans came to think of as the West Coast Cool sound.

Baker attracted attention not only because of his remarkable playing — at once both commanding and intimate — but because of his movie star looks. His timing was perfect: He arrived just as the long-playing album and with it the album cover were being perfected. It was his image that helped make jazz converts out of no small number of straight women and gay men in the Eisenhower era.

Yet there was something aloof and unattainable about him, just beyond reach: like a note that existed a mere half step beyond the range of any horn. As James Gavin shows in his definitive biography, “Deep in a Dream: The Long Night of Chet Baker,” for all of his amazing God-given talent and looks, he was a perennial screw-up, an unrepentant addict who was forever running afoul of both law enforcement and the mob.

Baker was that rare musician who served as the living emblem of an era, yet a new set of previously unreleased club recordings, “Live In Paris: The Radio France Recordings 1983-1984,” shows how he kept evolving as an artist into his 50s. Sadly, that turned out to be his final decade. 

Bassist Ricardo Del Fra, who played with Baker frequently in the later years – including one set on this package – tells us in the album notes, “A lot of critics in the 1950s celebrated him. Then, when his life changed, he was portrayed as a kind of ange maudit,” a cursed angel. Elsewhere in the notes, pianist Richie Beirach says Baker reminded him of “a bird with a broken wing.”

Even his early death — the infamous defenestration in Amsterdam in 1989 (a moment commemorated recently in a recent episode of “Ted Lasso”) — was at once epic tragedy and black comedy.

Baker worked in a wide range of different ensembles over his later career, the vast majority of which he spent in Europe. One of his favorite set-ups was a simple trio, consisting of trumpet, piano, and bass, which is the format heard here. Baker plays at two Paris jazz venues, Esplanade de La Défense in 1983 and Le Petit Opportun in 1984; Michel Graillier plays piano on both sets, with bassist Dominique Lemerle on the first and Mr. Del Fra on the second.

Mr. Del Fra describes the ensemble as “this drumless chamber trio,” which, he adds, “influenced a lot of musicians around Europe.” The lack of percussion makes the ballads seem especially relaxed and even poignant. On “Easy Living,” he stretches out for 14 minutes; on trombonist J.J. Johnson’s “Lament,” it’s 15 minutes, playing lyrically and romantically, though never sentimentally. The living here is indeed easy.

The uptempo numbers feel relaxed but also swinging; no one misses the drums at all. The two-hour package (two CDs or three vinyl LPs) opens with a fast “There Will Never Be Another You” in which Baker in addition to singing Mack Gordon’s lyrics also scats for two choruses, and the trumpet solo that follows is highly percussive. There are also two funky/bluesy tunes from the hard bop era, Hank Mobley’s “Funk in Deep Freeze” and Horace Silver’s “Strollin’.”  He plays with utter confidence, no matter what the tune or the tempo. 

The package is illuminated with contemporaneous photos of the leader and star, who was always God’s gift to photographers — even when his matinee idol looks were in decline. His face looks somewhat craggy and certainly older than his 50-something years, but such crags and minor imperfections are what gives both his face and his playing their unique character. Without being covered up by drums, we can hear Baker’s amazing trumpet tone in all of its subdued glory.

Baker was hardly under-recorded in his final years, indeed, there seems to be a new live set from somewhere in Europe or occasionally a studio session — most released posthumously — from almost every month of the 1980s. I’ve heard dozens of them, and the miraculous thing is that they’re all special. For all of the pratfalls and dark comedy of his 58 years on the planet, Baker can hardly be said to have led a charmed life, except when it came to making music.

Said Mr. Del Fra, “We played standards, but we also played more modern music. That was a subliminal message from Chet: When the music is good, you can play anything.”