Memo, or tweet, to Ben Ratliff:
I owe you one.
Somehow, I managed never to have heard of Cécile McLorin Salvant until Mack Avenue, a record company, sent a message announcing that it has signed her. The announcement included a link to a Sunday New York Times story by Mr. Ratliff. In a long article packed with praise from him and others, he wrote:
Her voice clamps into each song, performing careful variations on pitch, stretching words but generally not scatting; her face conveys meaning, representing sorrow or serenity like a silent-movie actor.
…”uh-oh, and hm! and what?” I thought, quoting Mr. Ratfliff intepreting one of her facial expressions; “I’d better look into this.” To read all of his article, go here.
The next step was to see if I could find a sample of her singing. I found this, recorded four years ago somewhere in France, with bassist Alain Guiraud and guitaritst Renaud Maret. The videographer was shooting through a glass darkly, but the audiographer, if that’s a term, was up close and Ms. McLorin Salvant, singing a great song, was personal.
This YouTube page and two following it, have a few dozen clips of Ms. McLorin Salvant, including an eccentric, cliff-hanging version of “I Only Have Eyes For You.” It’s going to take a while to catch up with her.
Addendum: The Times piece online includes an embedded video of Ms. McLorin Salvant performing “I Didn’t Know What Time It Was” with Aaron Diehl’s trio.
The nonagenarian pianist presented de Barros with every biographer’s hope, unrestricted access to his subject’s personal papers and nearly unrestricted access to her private thoughts. He made the most of it, turning exhaustive research and hundreds of hours of interviews into a true story with the sweep of a novel. From the early discovery of McPartland’s musical gift through her wartime service, her ecstatic and stormy marriage to Jimmy McPartland, her growth as a pianist, her deep affair with Joe Morello, and the radio show that made her a national figure, she has had a fascinating life. It makes a splendid read.
Mulligan’s Concert Jazz Band had three fewer musicians than most big jazz outfits. Its size permitted precision, flexibility and subtlety, yet the band had the power of sprung steel. In this concert from a half century ago, the CJB is as fresh as yesterday. Arrangements by Mulligan, Bob Brookmeyer, Al Cohn and Johnny Mandel set standards to which big band writers still aspire. Bassist Buddy Clark and drummer Mel Lewis inspired Mulligan, Brookmeyer, Conte Candoli, Gene Quill and Zoot Sims to some of the best soloing of their careers. This beautifully produced issue of the complete concert is a basic repertoire item.
Cécile was a student of mine at The New School Jazz Program last spring. She’s smart, poised, and mature, and as a singer she has a musical, non-cookie-cutter approach. I look forward to following her career.
How Sassy and Nina would sound in their best young days—yet more than and beyond that: thrillingly fresh style, intelligence, taste, savoir faire, delicious surprises with most every phrase. Watch the faces of the musicians in all the groups and on every number…