But then there was heroin and an extra dose of the trouble it brings. His looks would fade fast from heartthrob to weathered addict. His voice rapidly rusted. His ability to play horn was beaten out of him along with his teeth. Nothing breaks a fall like rock bottom and for Baker it would be double shifts pumping gas in Los Angeles to remain on the fighting side of destitute.

Those are the thorns and struggles. Perhaps in a tragic way they put the bloom on the rose.

Chet Baker’s early recordings are arrestingly beautiful gems in limited supply. It’s hard not to listen to them without thinking of the rest of his story which applies a sort of bittersweet patina twisted romantics are apt to dig.

Easy Street is not a place for lovers, at least not the way Shakespeare and Adele figure it. Maybe Easy St. is a thoroughfare for the deluded, shallow and easily amused. Seems to me most of the good parties are at less desirable addresses anyway, figuratively and literally. This roughly translates to “no pain, no gain” where achievement is concerned.

Baker wasn’t driven, he was possessed to gig again. While he was unable to leave heroin and its torments behind, he returned to jazz after four agonizing years learning how to play horns with cheap dentures, serendipitously rendering smokey fluid tones in the process. The performances that make up Chet’s second act are powerful, emotive and rich. Over the next 15 or so years he would record some of the most amazing tracks a jazz fan will ever hear. It is dynamic, deep and explorative music that sounds like an artist projecting their soul through total command of their craft. This stuff is every bit as romantic as his establishing work but for very different reasons. It is unbridled, mature and complex.

See what you think by listening to a few Chet Baker tracks on the internet. And don’t forget, clearance priced candy and flowers on sale tomorrow, while supplies last.