8:47 is the time here in New York. You are listening to Bird Flight on WKCR. I’m Phil Schaap.

When we talk about Charley Parker, we are not only talking about a complex musician but a complex man as well.

Sure, we know about his stay in a mental hospital. His addiction to heroin. And we hope this doesn’t overshadow the genius of which he was.

From his start in big band music to the  beginning of bop, his trio work as well. All of it genius. But today, I want delve into the dynamics of his playing. The sheer  beauty of which it is. The time is 9:08 here in New York.

Ben turned off the radio when he heard bouncing in the other room. A man groaning and Meg telling him to give it to her harder.

Ben turned the radio back up. Parker was playing with Gillespie. Both men taking turns at blowing their horns to new heights.  Heights that no one had heard before.

And this was the beginning of bop, Schaap said. The beginning of a time in music that many consider groundbreaking. And, of course, it was.

The customer’s groaning got louder. Meg quickly became quiet. Her voice was silenced. He was grunting and moaning with his hands around her throat.

These fucking pigs, Ben said. Can’t even fuck like normal people. Always something weird. Beyond weird.

The pimp made his way back to Meg’s room and saw her swinging wildly at the man. Hitting him on the back. Digging her nails into his rib cage.

Bitch, the john said. Fucking teach you a lesson.

Get off her, Ben said in a low voice. Now.

I’m going to get my money’s worth.

I’d say you already have. Get dressed. Ben pointed at him.

Or what?

A kick to the stomach was given along with a strike on the jaw. A hard strike. The pig bled and pulled a tooth out. Blood ran from his nose.

Get dressed and get out of here. Leave. You OK? he asked Meg. She nodded her head yes. I knew you’d come back. You always do, Ben stood over her naked body. You. Fuck boy. Get out of here.

Meg ran her fingers through her purse and handed Ben a twenty. He smiled. 

Welcome back.