In those days before hearing Charlie Parker and Dizzy, and before learning of the so-called bebop era–by the way, I have some thoughts about that word, “bebop”–my first jazz hero ever, jazz improvisor hero, was Lester Young. I was a big “Lester Young-oholic,” and all of my buddies were Lester Young-oholics. We’d get together and dissect, analyze, discuss, and listen to Lester Young’s solos for hours and hours and hours. He was our god.
