Remembering Walter Parazaider, the Man Who Dreamed of a Rock Band with Horns

Walter Parazaider, the woodwind player from the band Chicago who passed away yesterday at age 81, was the first famous saxophone player I knew by name. 

As an only child, I had to discover music on my own. It wasn’t until 1985 that I learned that there was a rock and roll band with horns (Walt’s dream) but after I did, there was no turning back. Chicago vaulted to the top of my all-time favorites list and remains one of my top two bands of all time. And it all began with a question.

Discovering Chicago and Walt

When kids pick up an instrument and learn it, many have established idols as the primary driver. That wasn’t me. I selected the saxophone, to the best of my recollection, because I asked the middle school band director which instrument played the Cantina Band song in Star Wars. Throughout the early 1980s as I learned the alto sax and popular music at the same time, no famous saxophone player emerged as someone to know. I hadn’t discovered Springsteen yet so I couldn’t know Clarence Clemons. When there was the occasional sax solo on the radio (think Supertramp’s “The Logical Song”) I didn’t put two and two together and find out who played the sax.

But things changed in June 1985. 

I lamented to my high school band friend, Chris, that I wished there was a band with horns and he said there was. He loaned me a cassette copy of Chicago IX, the band’s first greatest hits album. I remember very clearly walking the dog, putting the cassette into my Walkman, and pushing play. The music of “25 or 6 to 4” slammed into my ears. Are you kidding me? Then “Does Anybody Really Know What Time It Is?” followed by “Colour My World” (with that flute solo) and “Just You ‘n’ Me” (and that soprano sax solo)! And that was just side one!

Even back then, I did what I always do when I discover something I love: I learned all there was to know in those pre-internet days about this new-to-me band, and Walt’s name was crucial. 

Here was a saxophone guy playing rock music in his own band. The first old album I remember getting was Chicago II (the source of “25 or 6 to 4,” “Colour My World,” and “Make Me Smile”) and hearing all the intricate horn parts. This album also featured Walt’s flute on “It Better End Soon,” a side-length song with extended solos. 

It was later when I learned Walt was not only a founding member, but a member of the core trio—with guitarist/singer, Terry Kath, and drummer Danny Seraphine—who conceived of the idea of a rock band with horns. It was Walt’s apartment where the original six guys met and formed the band. They wanted to make something they hadn’t seen before: create a band where the horn section was equal to the traditional elements of a rock band, not just embellishments on random songs.

And they succeeded beyond anyone’s wildest expectations. In a career that has spanned over five decades, Chicago has survived membership changes, including the tragic loss of Kath, and innumerable musical trends that came and went. And through it all, until he retired from touring in 2017, was Walt Parazaider. 

The older I’ve gotten, the more I’ve come to appreciate Walt’s presence in the band, specifically his quiet nature. Band geeks like me know the names of the band members. That’s a given. The general public probably can’t name any member other than bassist/vocalist Peter Cetera but they can recognize Chicago and the Chicago sound. Over the years, when anyone plays me a new song, if there are horns in the song, I’m already halfway there. With the question of “What would you do if you could make a living doing anything you want,” the answer is always music. And I wouldn’t need to be famous to do it either. 

That’s how I’ve always seen Walt. The quiet, unassuming band guy who helped form a rock band, had massive and sustained success through reinvention, was content to let others have the spotlight, and just played the music. Sure, there were the solos for which he was famous—I particularly enjoyed the years in the late 80s and early 90s when he would switch to flute for the solo in “Just You ‘n’ Me”—but he just played. 

Chicago 18 was the first new album I bought after discovering the band (which turns forty this fall!) and the photo inside the album told me all I needed to know about Walt. There he is, third from the right, a funny little smile on his face like he’s saying “Can you believe I get to do this for a living?”

Yeah, I do. And I’m so glad you did.

Thanks, Walt, for dreaming up something that hadn’t been dreamed before: a rock band with horns. Thanks for showing band geeks the world over that you can make it as a sax player. Thanks for all the years and memories you gave me.

I won’t ever forget your name.