The Chet Baker song Roger Waters couldn’t live without

Pink Floyd singer, songwriter, bassist, and composer Roger Waters has become a leading, and significantly polarising, voice in the rock scene ever since the band disrupted the landscape in the late 1960s. Although many figures of the same era often point to other esteemed rock icons as sources of inspiration, for Waters, jazz trumpeter and vocalist Chet Baker became a huge influence on him in his personal and professional life.

In the beginning, Waters served as Pink Floyd’s bassist, allowing Syd Barrett to lead in songwriting and music composition. However, Waters assumed the band’s leadership role after Barrett’s departure in 1968, becoming the face of the band. Despite ongoing disagreements with David Gilmour, many still regard Waters as a significant figure in British rock royalty. Over two decades, Waters and Pink Floyd achieved international fame with acclaimed albums like The Dark Side of the Moon, Wish You Were Here, Animals, and The Wall, influencing the development of pop and alternative music and sonic landscapes in the process.

Due to Waters’ achievements in the rock arena, his influences span far and white, but when it comes to jazz, he cites one Baker song in particular that his life wouldn’t be the same without. ‘My Funny Valentine’ became Baker’s signature song when he first covered it in 1952, after which it became omnipresent as a popular jazz standard and an integral part of his club and concert sets.

The song was originally written in 1937 by Richard Rodgers and Lorenz Hart for the coming-of-age musical Babes in Arms. However, it was Baker’s prominence and sheer talent that enabled it to become the huge show tune that many instantly recognise today. For Waters, and many others, Baker was a true American pioneer in cool jazz, a genre that came to the fore following the hard bop era of the 1950s and 1960s. His song ‘My Funny Valentine’ left such a lasting impression on the Pink Floyd rocker that he named it one of his favourites of all time.

Although his legacy as a highly regarded jazz musician lives on, Baker went through a significantly dark period in the 1960s. At the time, the musician found himself stranded in England with a heroin addiction. He rarely playing music, and often pawned his instruments for drug money. In one instance, Baker traded in his trumpet and bought a flugelhorn when he was scheduled to play a gig and couldn’t find a replacement trumpet.

This was the state Waters found him in during the only time the two met. Rogers’ story finds him as a young upstart architecture student at Regent Street Polytechnic living, in a somewhat unlikely fashion, next to a down-and-out Baker. “I actually met him, fleetingly, when I was a student studying architecture in London,” Waters recalls. “We were living in a squat in Cheyne Gardens—the whole block was full of squats—and Chet was squatting three doors down, and this must have been 1962. He was a junkie and he had no teeth, and he couldn’t play anymore, and I’ve seen films about him after he got himself together, but what a remarkable man. What an extraordinary talent.”

Thankfully, Baker successfully made a comeback in the 1970s, reentering the jazz scene. He continued to reside in Europe during this time and made guest appearances on several rock albums, including those by devoted fans Elvis Costello and Van Morrison. Although Baker struggled with drug addiction throughout his life, which ultimately lead to his tragic death in 1988, his music lives on, and he’s remembered more for his significant contributions to the scene.

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