Dizzy Gillespie Overview

He earned his name from the frenzied, high-pitched solos that make so many heads spin. By climbing into the trumpet's two highest registers and belting out syncopated feats of harmonic daring, Dizzy Gillespie developed an indubitably revolutionary sound. Bebop, that high-speed,... [more]

He earned his name from the frenzied, high-pitched solos that make so many heads spin. By climbing into the trumpet's two highest registers and belting out syncopated feats of harmonic daring, Dizzy Gillespie developed an indubitably revolutionary sound. Bebop, that high-speed, rhythmically and tonally challenging style of jazz, was essentially born in Dizzy's blown-out cheeks. Along with Charlie Parker and Thelonious Monk, Gillespie brought bebop into the world, nourished it, and elaborated on it by incorporating Afro-Cuban elements. Gillespie was basically a self-taught musician. He began playing trombone when he was 12, moving to the trumpet a year later. He won a musical scholarship to the Laurinburg Institute in North Carolina, but found that practicing alone was not to his taste -- he wanted to jam with his friends. He quit the university in 1935 and moved to Philadelphia, where he embarked upon his career as a performer. He finally had the chance to jam, and he played with such notables as Ella Fitzgerald, Coleman Hawkins, Benny Carter, and Duke Ellington. When he met Charlie Parker, the two struck up an inspired musical partnership that eventually begat bebop. Before the birth of bebop, jazz was primarily based in the seven-note diatonic scale owned by the blues. Bebop opened jazz up to the twelve-note chromatic scale, significantly expanding harmonic possibilities. Gillespie was at the edge of this innovation -- and like most artists on the edge of the new, he was initially met with resistance. The public wasn't quite ready for all those new notes. And they were bowled over by the relentless pace of Gillespie's trumpet; his incessant repetition of quick, two-tone staccato phrases was considered erratic and jarring. It's true that Gillespie seemed sometimes on the brink of disaster. His solos often put him in precarious positions, pushing harmonic and rhythmic limits, teetering on the precipice of dissolution and uncontrolled dissonance. However, his technical virtuosity kept the music clean and consistent even in the midst of experimentation. He charted unfamiliar territories of improvisation, soared to divine pitches, syncopating his rhythms with maniacal power and pace. Although he was serious about his music, Gillespie also had an impeccable sense for the comic. His presence on stage was big in every way, bursting, like his inflated cheeks, with ebullience and charm. His comic snippets between songs became a staple element of his style. And everyone that came into his company was entranced by the ease of his transitions; from the focused intensity of his music to the lure of his public image, grace glowed in every element of his existence. [show less]