The first time I heard Mingus in the Three Deuces, this was sometime after the war, my teeth nearly fell out. Even my wife, who hated jazz at the time, said afterward she had never been so transfixed by a "mere bass player," and asked if I might introduce him to her. Naturally, I demurred. For years after that night, she would, whenever I played Mingus at home, fall into a dreamy longing (as if she were saying in her mind, "Ah - the one that got away"), something I still find, after more than two thirds of a century, a bit unsettling.
Imagine. People had the patience to sit in rooms and Listen to the finest minds of their generation. Listen. Somewhere white men in suits had the smarts to make sure we could. Feature that.
This work by Mingus is a milestone in the saga of American jazz. It's like a bunch of different conversations harmonizing for a few brief instants. This is pure art!
I'm currently reading Sting's autobiography "Broken Music" on page 118 he describes a big band audition he went to on bass in the 60s that was going okay until this song was called that he was unfamiliar with and it was a "trainwreck" but he got the job after studying the charts they gave him for a week. He's very humble for a man of his accomplishments and I'm very much enjoying this book. My good friend and successful drummer who I was in a band with as kids, Toss Panos, (look him up) when I asked him if he ever got star struck (he's played with many big names) he said "Yes, once, back stage at a gig playing for Andy Summers, Sting was there and wanted to play with me..."