I just picked up this recent collection and it has changed my music listening life. All the reading you do about Parker (okay—what I’ve read in Miles Davis’ autobiography) says that his recording dates never captured the true spirit, that the Bird only flew, so to speak, during live performances. Of these live performances, none were as celebrated as his 1948-49 group’s stint at the Royal Roost nightclub in New York’s Midtown. Many of these shows were broadcast on ‘Symphony” Sid Torin’s late night radio show, and that’s what’s on this collection.

The radio show broadcast is, in many ways, what makes this such a winning collection. Philosophically, this frees this album from the sometimes crippling sense of loss I can suffer in a great live album. “Aw man I shoulda been a Newport, or, Aw man I shoulda been at the Royal Albert Hall, or Aw man I shoulda been at Budakon.” These recordings were meant from day one to connect the home listener into a myth of a scene. The clink of the gin glasses and silverware scrapes were as far away to the listener then as they are now.

And then of course there’s Sid. Sid, the White Negro, he knows something’s goin’ on, he’s the kid who tries too hard to fit in. Jazzmen of the day kinda goofed on Sid for being so square, but he was recognized and respected for spreading the gospel like he did. On this collection Symphony Sid introduces “Charlie Parker and his wonderful organization,” and asks, “How’s the chicken? Real Crazy? You dig the chicken.”

I mentioned that this disc has changed my life. You probably think that it’s because of the sensational improvisation or tight bebop phrasing. That’s certainly part of it, but, yes, I’ve heard that before. I just can’t get over this package.

I probably didn’t mention that this is four discs. The first three are all Royal Roost, most with same line-up of Miles Davis on trumpet, Al Haig on piano, Max Roach on drums and Curly Russell on bass. (There are some shifts here and there, most notably Tadd Dameron on horn here and there.) What I’ve been doing for months is putting these three discs in the machine set to continue, creating a wild ‘n hazy song cycle of alto-led flow.

What I find so remarkable is how these recordings play off of one another. There are, like, a half dozen solid versions of “Slow Boat to China,” “Ornithology,” “Scrapple From The Apple,” and all the other Bird hits. It’s the numerous takes, and the length of this whole project, that gives this collection the feeling of tuning in to a live radio broadcast. Not a recorded one. I mean—this is happening now. It’s like an aural Oujia board; a bop séance; a direct pipe to the swinginest beat party that ever was, again and again and again.

Some of the crazier highlights include a cookin’ version of “White Christmas.” Damn, I’ve been in the tiny club late at night in December when it’s cold outside, but sweltering in, and the music is so perfect and the lighting is so low. Later in that set, the music is interrupted with shouts of “Happy New Year!”

Disc four starts off with a fairly rare ten minute plus jam, and then goes into some curiously recorded Carnegie Hall performances. Not as tight as the Royal Roost, but, again, real nice.

This era of jazz is not my favorite. I prefer the Blue Note hard bop era that was just around the corner. But if you had to find the heart of bebop, the soul of the Bird, you’ll find it on these four discs. They are indispensable. And they run in the background of my erstwhile bohemian bachelor pad nearly every night . . . kinda low . . . fading in and out . . . vaguely familiar . . . like a never ending party on the air.