In a cluttered media landscape Riffs, Beats, & Codas does the hard work for our readers by selecting some of the outstanding popular culture offerings of 2017. You are welcome;-) Covering music, literature, television, and film (briefly), I hope some of my selections inspire you to explore. As always, I conclude with a list some of the notable musicians who have died this year. MUSIC Philadelphia based musician Son Little continues defying genre and expectation on his second full length album New Magic. Though Little exists nominally on the contemporary soul and electric blues spectrum, he is an incredibly resourceful musician who employs everything from surf guitar to choral chants to tell a fascinating range of stories. Humorous, literate, and sensuous, New Magic is rife with lyrical and sonic intrigue.

Check out the video for the song 'Blue Magic' below. Somi, a Nigerian born jazz-oriented vocalist and songwriter based in New York, soars on Petite Afrique an endearingly personal and poignant collection of original songs. At the outset, on 'Alien' she writes from the leans of an “African in New York” who feels eternally alienated from her surroundings. Among her most memorable moments are her impressionistic portrait of intracultural policing on “Black Enough,” and a subtle, incisive depiction of gentrification of 'The Gentry.' Rich in textures and tones, her lovely voice anchors this ambitious meditation. Learn more about the album's creation below. Lizz Wright’s smoldering vocal sound is so lovely and measured; she can sometimes lapse into making mood music rather than compelling recordings.

Warning: Invalid argument supplied for foreach() in /srv/users/serverpilot/apps/jujaitaly/public/index.php on line 447. DVD: Interviews with Bo Diddley, Little Richard, Jerry Lee Lewis, Eric Clapton, & Keith Richards. Note that the CD tracks are Chuck Berry Chess Records originals and NOT soundtrack versions of the songs. 'My Soul Is A. Nevertheless, these tracks can be had with moderate strength 'extraction' software.

Her newest, Grace, represents an advance in her sound. Though she favors moody, minor key ballads she has selected a strong set.

Though her vocal approach rarely varies, k.d. Lang’s “Wash Me Clean,” Allen Toussaint’s “Southern Nights,” and Bob Dylan’s “Every Grain of Sand” draw out her strongest performances and make one of her more memorable albums in years. Cecile McLorin Salvant is the freshest and most acclaimed new voice in jazz since Gregory Porter’s debut. She has a lovely with a rainbow of colors, of which she has complete control. She is very comfortable and confident stretching her voice in multiple directions and always stays on pitch. She also possesses a strong rhythmic sense, a respect for melody, and genuine comedic flair.

Many of these skills are on full display on her double album Dreams and Daggers. It is unusual in its blend of studio cuts, live recordings from a series of Village Vanguard concerts, and several pieces with strings. A bit jarring, but she sounds very solid throughout. Thematically, it traces the glories and tortures of female romanticism.

Alongside dreamy standards like “I Didn’t Know What Time it Was” and “You’re My Thrill” are raunchy classic blues, and tongue-in-cheek songs, mostly composed by Salvant. Though a few of the songs are uneven, overall Salvant is carving out an identity as a jazz singer willing to take risks. She has a winning sense of humor and the chops to write, modernize the blues, and deliver in concert.

McLorin Salvant discusses the album below on the TV program The Open Mind. Paula Cole’s mid-1990s stardom was memorable, especially her intriguing satire “Where Have all the Cowboys Gone,” but her musical roots were actually in jazz.

She studied jazz composition at the Berklee College of Music. Professionally, Cole has concentrated on singer-songwriter music for most of her career, which may distort the scope of her talents. However, her occasional interpretations of standards on other artists’ albums and some of the writing on her albums of the 2000s and 2010s indicated the jazz aspect her talents. On Ballads Cole is a very convincing interpreter of an impressive range of material including Bob Dylan, Bobbie Gentry, and songs drawn from the pre-rock songbook. Doing double duty as a vocalist and pianist, she is a steady and assured anchor who gives songs as disparate as “Naima,” “Body and Soul,” and “Ode to Billie Joe” her own flavor. Books about music Queen of Bebop: The Musical Lives of Sarah Vaughan by Elaine M. Hayes Elaine Hayes’s biography of Sarah Vaughan is a detailed, crisp and clearly organized portrait of the life and artistry of the great Vaughan.

Hayes approaches her unique melding of jazz and classical elements into a distinctive style, and places her career in the context of the postwar pop and jazz industry. She also provides valuable social insights into Vaughan’s navigation of the era’s racial and gender politics. Easily one of the finest biographical portraits of a black female musician as a complex artist and a person. Good Things Happen Slowly: A Life In and Out of Jazz by Fred Hersch Acclaimed jazz pianist Fred Hersch is adept on a variety of keyboards, as his accomplished memoir illustrates. Hersch details how his childhood love of music, fed by a strong sense of personal drive and discipline, resulted in a full time career as a jazz musician, composer, and teacher.

As his career developed, he gained confidence in his identity as an openly gay man, in a homophobic society, and as a person living with HIV/AIDS. Hersch shares a wealth of insightful stories about life as a contemporary jazz musician, and details multiple health challenges that disturbed his momentum at times, but failed to deter his progress as a creative artist and as a person. Beyond MUSIC media favorites Fiction Lonesome Lies Before Us by Don Lee Don Lee uses the life of a nearly famous alt country singer songwriter struggling to say afloat financially and medically, to illustrate important questions about art, life, and spirituality.

Returning to the fictional Rosarita Bay setting he employs in his books occasionally, he depicts a small community, beset by financial issues, struggling to survive on the literal level and striving to find meaning in lives littered by disappointment. As per usual, Lee’s crisp prose and deft storytelling lure you into a compellingly familiar fictional world. Little Fires Everywhere by Celeste Ng Celeste Ng’s second novel is a genuine page-turner about class conflict in Shaker Heights circa the mid-1990s.

An artist and her daughter rent an apartment from a well-heeled seemingly progressive white family. The daughter grows increasingly closer to the family’s idyllic life; her mother, who eventually works for the family, becomes increasingly concerned about these bonds.

Both are accustomed to a nomadic existence dictated by her mother’s profession. Just as they appear to fall into a stable life routine, a wealth of secrets about the mother spills forth, resulting in fractures, misperceptions, and suburban dramas that seismically displace the semblance of stability. Non-Fiction Beyond Respectability: The intellectual Thought of Race Women by Brittany Cooper Black feminist scholar Brittany Cooper foregoes the flatly historical encyclopedic accounts of black female writers Anna Julia Cooper, Mary Church Terrell, Fannie Barrier Williams, Pauli Murray, and Toni Cade Bambara by focusing on their intellectual work as philosophies. Cooper masterfully synthesizes their ideas about social progress into functioning social and political ideas that influenced their respective eras. Informing her analysis is explicit attention to the intersectional work they were performing before this concept was more widely known in academic circles, and offering a nuanced critique of how respectability politics has operated historically and contemporarily. Her writing opens a door for continued exploration of the intellectual output of overlooked figures. Essay collection Hunger: A Memoir of (My) Body by Roxanne Gay Nothing I read this year inspired me to discuss its contents with as many people as Roxane Gay’s Hunger, a memoir of her body detailing her struggles with weight, trauma, and familial and societal pressures.

Gay is known for her honesty and bluntness, and her voice is relentless here. In a series of short, mostly captivating vignettes she eloquently reveals the tense hypervisibility and invisibility of being a large, tall black woman navigating a history of sexual trauma in a cruel culture. Gay’s perspective demands your attention and constantly illuminates experiences that implicates us all. Spike Lee’s reboot of his 1987 film She’s Gotta Have It into a Netflix series is a superb character study of a black female artist navigating love and sex, friendships, an ever gentrifying Brooklyn, and the eternal struggle of making a living as an artist. Music is a prominent character in each episode. In addition to serving as counterpoint in specific scenes, the source albums get their own screenshot.

The series deftly employs a range of artists from Frank Sinatra to Sade to Floetry. The season ending group dance to Prince’s “Raspberry Beret” is one of the inspired moments of the 2017 season. Check out Popsugar's link to songs featured throughout the series: Crazy Ex-Girlfriend (Seasons 2 & 3). CW’s Crazy Ex-Girlfriend, starring actress and co-creator Rachel Bloom, is not only the finest musical sitcom on television, but the only one technically.

This uniqueness spares other series from having to compete; its continually inspired depiction of love, obsession, insecurity, and neurosis, under the veneer of musical comedy, is incomparable. As the seasons delve more deeply into main character Rebecca Bunch’s complicated psyche, the series continues to present smart, funny, and formally brilliant songs that amplify key moments.

From Season Two’s jazzy opening theme “I’m Just a Girl in Love,” which borders on the cute and creepy, to the gleefully goofy duet “We Tapped That Ass” (complemented by a dance routine), the songs flesh out an inspired and evolving concept. Season Three’s ongoing journey through Rebecca’s complicated past continue to unpeel the layers in convincing dramatic, comedic and musical fashion.

Music on Film Coco In Disney-Pixar’s Coco, a young man struggles to adhere to his loyalty to family and his passion for music. Plotwise, a celebration of Dia de los Muertos opens up a (literal) portal to understanding the authentic roots of his family through convening with the dead but not forgotten.

Though it is primarily a narrative animated film, music is central to the story’s narrative arc most notably the gorgeous “Remember Me” sung by multiple characters. Coco is a funny, touching, smart film, and is notable for engaging genuinely with Mexican culture and featuring a Latinx cast.

Dear Riffs, Beats & Codas readers: I am drafting a new writing project called LOUD Women: Portraits of disruptive women in American pop. For many years, I have been drawn to female vocalists who are perceived as shrill, over-the-top and overly dramatic. I decided to interrogate the meaning of this notion in a series of vignettes. Please enjoy Part 2! I would love your feedback on this work-in-progress.

Check out last month's blog for Part 1's discussion of Barbra Streisand, Cleo Laine, and Diane Schuur. In a 1998 appearance on The Rosie O’Donnell Show Tony Award winning actor Jennifer Holliday relayed how Ethel Merman told her she would have to tone down her voice to make it on Broadway. The irony of Merman telling another singer to sing more subtly is fairly ridiculous, but Holliday did not object overtly, she simply stayed true to the dynamic style she introduced to audiences Your Arm’s too Short to Box with God which propelled her to award-winning stardom as Effie White in Dreamgirls on Broadway. Her signature “And I Am Telling you I’m Not Going” is more than a torch song: it is a gut wrenching inferno. Singing in an almost guttural style, Holliday sang the song four years in a row and solidified herself as one of the greatest finds in musical theater since Barbra Streisand, Bette Midler, Bernadette Peters, and Stephanie Mills. In addition to receiving the Tony Award, she won a Grammy for the pop version, which exposed people without access to Broadway to a vocal style unmatched in intensity.

Holliday’s bravura performance of the song, as well as “I Am Changing,” drew from the stylistic well of gospel, musical theatre, and torch song, and ultimately made her one of the decade’s most promising new star. Poised for success she never reached the heights of previous Broadway-cum-pop star predecessors. In the early 1980s, the music industry was as racially bifurcated as it had ever been with black singers confined to quiet storm ballads and funk and whites to soft rock and rock with few overlaps. The notion of a “black Streisand” was less than tenable, so rather than relying on Broadway material her Geffen debut featured a mix of relative “radio friendly” songs like the ballad “I Am Love” (an R&B hit) and the dance cut “Just Let Me Wait.” Her follow-up repeated this approach of targeting the neo-disco and adult soul markets. Unlike white Broadway predecessors like Streisand, Holliday needed to cross over from the black market to reach the pop audience and none of her songs performed at this level commercially. Holliday switched from Geffen Records to Arista Records in the early 1990s, but this did not change her fortunes significantly and she has remained a mostly independent recording artist.

Sunset Boulevard’s aging, delusional fading silent film actress Norma Desmond believed she was not a successful actress because “the pictures got smaller,” rather than her talents. In Holliday’s case, the situation was the inverse: At the peak of her talents the industry got smaller, increasing the gap between black and white music, and reducing the space for singers with large voices to fit into an increasingly electronic musical landscape.

The rise of MTV also increased racial segregation and a byproduct was the erasure and silencing of full-sized black female physiques like Holliday’s body. Though black women’s musicality was integral to the soul music that influenced ‘80s MTV pop stars like Annie Lennox and George Michael few black women had a prominent role on the channel. Holliday’s talents were too big for the industry; she defied the industry’s emerging new standards and outside of Broadway found limited success in film, television or other arenas during the mid-to-late 1980s. Holliday has reflected on her struggles with weight, depression, and romance.

I would imagine the failure of the industry to respond to the scope of her talents may have informed these struggles. In the mid-1990s, Holliday began appearing on television, including a recurring role on Ally McBeal, and in the early 2000s, she was back on Broadway and the dance charts.

She has also released albums of gospel songs and standards, and benefited from some of the renewed attention to Dreamgirls that accompanied the 2007 film. These moments indicate clear awareness of her gifts within the industry, but she deserves a sustainable vehicle for her art. In 2002, I saw her perform in concert in Washington D.C. And was awed by her talent, which included fine performances of the songs of Patsy Cline and Ella Fitzgerald, respectively, as well as her signature showtunes. Holliday, who was only born in 1960, still appears to be performing at her peak, and deserves to be seen and heard. Whitney Houston is one of the most misunderstood pop music icons because our society provided limited space for someone in her position to be understood. As a young black woman who debuted in the mid-1980s, audiences probably expected her to sing funk in the vein of Chaka Khan and Teena Marie, and/or gospel inflected music like Aretha Franklin and Patti LaBelle.

Though hardly rebellious, Houston defied these racial and gender expectations. Houston’s energetic performances of dance tunes and sultry ballad interpretations indicated a vast aural sensibility. You hear elements of gospel in her voice, but there are also elements of Streisand style belting, Ross like drama, with traces of funk and disco, but ultimately no surrender to a singular sound.

Houston does not sound stereotypically “white” or “black.” She sounds multiculturally black, meaning she is grounded in some familiar black idioms and able to illustrate how rich the palette of black music is in actuality. Tellingly, before her album debuted she sang a version of Home on The Merv Griffin Show. Stephanie Mills originated “Home” in the original production of The Wiz and part of its innovation was its fusion of gospel elements with the control and showmanship of Broadway. The Broadway soul element is a deeply important texture of Houston’s music that a lot of music critics, steeped rock and soul music, miss and fail to appreciate in Houston’s music. Though reviewers always recognized the beauty of her voice, they have always fought the idea that black singers have something more to offer than the most obvious variations on the sound popularized by Franklin. This limits the room for other kinds of black vocal expression, thus by her second album (1987’s Whitney) Houston was maligned critically for making crossover pop (for white people) rather than some notion of “authentic” black music.

The only way such a notion is tenable is if you hold the essentialist view that black expression is finite and exhausted of possibility. The notion that she was failing her people aesthetically, and by virtue politically, undoubtedly led her to record the rather muddled and unsatisfying album I’m Your Baby Tonight. In an effort to connect more deeply with urban black pop she collaborated with the urban L.A. Funk brain trust of Babyface and L.A. Reid on multiple songs. The New Jack Swing title track was a big pop and R&B hit, but none of the other dance cuts made an impact. The album’s most successful cut was its most Houston-traditional: Her rendition of Dean Pitchford and Michael Gore’s anthemic “All the Man that I Need” produced by Narada Michael Walden, a black producer who shepherded most of her biggest hits previously.

Even working with Luther Vandross and Stevie Wonder failed to produce magic. The set is a downturn in her career, but she reversed her fortune with the most natural fit: the soundtrack to the soapy melodrama The Bodyguard. After years of occasional acting cameos and a career of Broadway soul style singing the film’s music provided an appropriate context for her singing, which reached astronomical vocal heights on her propulsive version of Dolly Parton’s “I Will Always Love You” and suitably dramatic original songs “Run to You” and “I Have Nothing.” The album’s triumph featured some of her best singing, and set the stage for her similarly accomplished performances on the Waiting to Exhale and Preacher’s Wife soundtracks. Paralleling these triumphs were well-covered personal struggles in her marriage to Bobby Brown and drug addiction that derailed her career transforming her from a formidable voice to a caricature. 1998’s My Love is Your Love, her last great recording, was an agreeable fusion of her “classic” Broadway soul approach with more contemporary rhythms provided by hip-hop and R&B producers. Her voice was slightly more seasoned and her range was smaller but she still had an appealing sound. The album was her last consistent success, spawning several hits and winning her awards and such, but it was a swan song in many regards.

She finally achieved R&B credibility, for what it was worth, but she had already shown herself to be both within and beyond R&B confines. Critics ultimately have limited access to a singer’s psyche and personal demons.

Arguably, the pressure to balance commercial crossover ambitions and to appeal to black audiences was an artificial pressure she inherited and navigated gracefully for many years before it seems to have consumed her. We still struggle to envision female artists beyond the cartoonish “girl next door” and” bad girl” tropes which can leave female artists stranded between being themselves and trying to acquiesce to expectations. Music critics are not responsible for Houston’s death but the faux binaries they employed did not honor her artistic life. Dear Riffs, Beats & Codas readers: I am drafting a new writing project called LOUD Women: Portraits of disruptive women in American pop. For many years, I have been drawn to female vocalists who are perceived as shrill, over-the-top and overly dramatic. I decided to interrogate the meaning of this notion in a series of vignettes.

Please enjoy Part 1. Part 2 is coming in November! I would love your feedback on this work-in-progress.

Diane Schuur's Big Beautiful Mouth Diane Schuur has a big, beautiful mouth, capable of buoyant swing, raunchy blues, stirring gospel, and silken ballads and this scares many people, especially music critics. When she emerged in the 1980s as the latest vocal jazz star few critics knew how to assess her properly because she had no direct precedent. The jazz goddesses who preceded her always had a blind spot that stood out precisely because they were so proficient in other arenas. Ella and Sarah’s indisputably beautiful sonic qualities and almost super human improvisational genius offset their ability inability to sing the blues convincingly. Dinah Washington’s confident mastery of the blues and exemplary musicianship were so potent it made it easy for her to passively blend in or blithely sing over bland arrangements, especially in her final years.

Carmen McRae’s sharpness distinguished her but it eventually lapsed into a wryness that sometimes undercut the vulnerability of her material. Billie Holiday’s dark history and the physical effects of drug abuse sometimes made it difficult for audiences to hear her skillful musicianship rather than the poignancy of vulnerability. Betty Carter’s radical deconstructions were impressive feats of improvisation that sometimes stretched songs beyond recognition. A swinging interpreter like Maxine Sullivan was sometimes so low key in her laidback approach she could seem emotionally detached. I mention these figures because Schuur has a lesser critical profile, but is worthy of being mentioned with these legends. Schuur has a beautiful voice full of color, range, and flexibility. As a pianist and vocalist, she clearly understands the musical demands of her material.

She is also a highly versatile singer comfortable singing romantic ballads, swing tunes, torch songs, Brazilian pop and blues oriented material. None of these qualities is especially controversial but what sets her apart is that she isnot “cool.” Schuur has an exuberant, infectious energy that crackles in concert especially in her absorption of gospel music. Schuur can tap into an almost otherworldly passion in her music that evokes greats like Aretha Franklin and Ray Charles. She, more than any jazz vocalist of her generation, exemplifies the notion of jazz as a form of soul music.

Some of her most outstanding performances, including her interpretations of staples from the black pop music canon like “Amazing Grace,” “Someday We’ll All Be Free,” “Please Send Me Someone to Love,” and a live version of Franklin’s “Climbing Higher Mountains,” exhibit a simultaneous command of gospel, blues, and R&B virtually unmatched by any singer of her generation. Audiences have always reacted enthusiastically to her style but critics have dismissed her powerful style as shrill, over the top, and unsubtle. Some even reframed her as a (mere) “pop” singer with jazz overtones rather than a true jazz singer. These kinds of responses reveal a deeply ingrained bias that women in jazz need to stay quiet and emotionally contained (e.g.

The “cool” style of singers like Peggy Lee) or display a kind of athletic virtuosity (e.g. Both adhere to troubling patriarchal notions. Male critics often praise “cool” singers like June Christy, Chris Connor, Peggy Lee, Julie London, and Jo Stafford for being understated a rather coded term that often seems like shorthand for their ability to reign in an implied female emotionalism that makes critics uncomfortable. The inverse approach praises women for adhering to a highly prized form of overt improvisation critics tend to prize among male instrumentalists. In both instances, critics affirm vocalists who conform to narrow modes of expression. I appreciate Schuur because she is disruptive.

My Schuur conversion moment came in 1999 when she sang a stirring version of Stevie Wonder’s “I Just Called to Say I Love You” during a live tribute to Wonder at the Kennedy Center. She rearranges the song entirely beginning in an acapella arrangement (backed by Take 6) and building toward a spine tingling climax laced with jazz and gospel inflections. A truly gifted and resourceful interpreter, she takes an ordinary pop song and uses a highly personal set of musical tools to get to the heart of the lyric and illuminate its musical contours. Her musical choices elevate the song into something more beautiful and resonant than ever and does so by balancing emotional intelligence with improvisation, while remaining true to herself and the song. Cleo Laine: Out of this World Cleo Laine, a jazz-oriented singer of English and Jamaican heritage, captures you instantly with her colorful and flexible vocal instrument, and penchant for drama. She is not just a gifted singer, but a really compelling presence.

Never just a vocalist, she gained fame in England singing big band jazz, setting Shakespeare sonnets to music, and performing in musical theatre. While it is true that she first crossed over in the United States through a highly successful series of concerts at Carnegie Hall in 1973 (released on 1974, 1976, 1985 and 20001 sets), her studio recordings from 1985-1995 interest me most. They solidify her as one of the more gifted and eclectic singers to emerge in the jazz field, yet she is strangely underrated.

As a vocalist, actress, and performer she has never approached her music from a commercial pop or strictly jazz virtuosic improvisational perspective, nor confined her style to a musical theater based approach. Failing to fall easily into these categories speaks more to what makes her interesting than her limitations but critics have tended to praise her sound but dismiss her as too bombastic, stylized, and over the top. When Laine gets excited, she punctuates her renditions with coloratura style trills that amplify the emotion. She and her husband and bandleader saxophonist John Dankworth also performed note-perfect unison scats. Some people heard this as a gimmick; my rejoinder is that she uses this sparingly, and more importantly, I question why she must repress this aspect of her range? Building Telephony Systems With Opensips Pdf Printer. Why is trilling less expressive or sincere than other modes?

Like Diane Schuur she does many things well and has few precedents, which makes her difficult to classify and easy to condemn. Similarly, her exuberance defies the edict that jazz women would either stay cool or perform radical deconstructions. Each Laine album from the 1984-95 period offers an interesting facet of her vocal persona. That Old Feeling is a sublime ballads album featuring voice and piano with occasional bass. She scales down her luminous voice to the setting and delivers consistently lovely intimate performances of popular standards. It is comparable to similar sets by Ella Fitzgerald (with Ellis Larkins and Paul Smith) and Tony Bennett (with Bill Evans). 1988 Cleo Sings Sondheim is one of the best showcases of his work in a more jazz-oriented context.

Beyond perennials like “Send in the Clowns,” she does justice to “Ah But Underneath,” done in a brassy big band arrangement, perfectly capture the tension of “I’m Calm,” and masters “I’m Still Here.” She follows this fusion of Broadway and jazz on 1989’s Woman to Woman comprised exclusively of songs written by women. This was one of the first collections with this theme and she excels on a broad range of material composed by writers as disparate as Carol Bayer Sager, Billie Holiday and Flora Purim. While there is a jazz element, especially her sizzling take on “Fine and Mellow,” the set showcases a range of smart, melodic popular songs with an adult sensibility. In essence “good music” is not confined to jazz. 1991’s Jazz, featuring luminaires like Clark Terry, Gerry Mulligan, and Toots Thielemans, has my favorite version of Ellington’s “Just a Sittin and a Rockin’” in an exquisite duet with trumpeter Clark Terry, as well as fresh renditions of contemporary standards like “I Told you So” and a funky versionof “Lady Be Good” that somehow works.

Some people think her brassy “It Don’t Mean a Thing” is too much; I hear a fine showcase for all the musicians involved. Blue and Sentimental from 1994 features yet another new standard in Francesca Blumenthal’s “The Lies of Handsome Men,” gets down and dirty on “Love Me” and “Soft Pedal Blues,” and generates serious heat on two superb duets with Joe Williams, including a sultry blues “A Cryin’ Shame” and a definitive rendition of Irving Berlin’s “What’ll I Do.” Though she has sung Ellington on multiple occasions 1995’s Solitude, performed with the Duke Ellington Orchestra is one of her finest swing showcases. She and the Orchestra harmonize flawlessly on Shakespeare’s “Take All My Loves,” gallop through “Rocking in Rhythm” confidently, and simmer on the Adelaide Hall classic “Creole Love Call” both featuring smart lyrics by Lorraine Feather. I also enjoy her highly personal take on Ellington and Strayhorn’s “Take the A Train” retitled “Cleo’s A Train” which interpolates melodies from multiple Ellington standards into the song’s melodic framework. Laine the balladeer, musical theatre actress, pop song interpreter, blues interpreter, and swinger, emerges in a variety of settings.

These recordings represent some of the finest vocal artistry of their period and defy any singular characterization of Laine. Her artistry is comparable to legendary jazz divas for the rawness of her talent and her singularity.

Barbra Streisand: Reclaiming her legend Barbra Streisand is the most successful and accomplished vocalist to emerge from the early 1960s and remain relevant. She is also divisive because she is loud, disruptive, and unceasing in her ambition. Though it has been over 20 years since she had a radio hit, her albums regularly top the charts. On average, the self-proclaimed “actress who sings” from Brooklyn, who is in her early 70s as I write this, sells more albums than younger, trendier, and more aggressively marketed acts. Streisand’s legendary endurance is indisputable, but her critical reputation has always been fraught.

Writers have frequently devoted more time evaluating her appearance, her psyche, and rumors about her behavior, than her artistry, which as a singer, actress, director, and producer, is formidable across multiple mediums. Musically, Streisand is important for disrupting the polite, demure, and emotionally repressed female pop that immediately preceded her and simultaneously forcing cabaret music to grow up. Most of the hits that singers like Patti Page, Doris Day, and Jo Stafford popularized in the 1950s were either agreeable romantic ballads or cheesy novelty songs that belied their age and intelligence. Coming out of the big band era, they did not begin their recording careers thinking in terms of albums, but rather in “sides” (singles) thus they are more famous for individual songs than albums.

Streisand, comparatively, debuted in 1963 and her album gained significant critical and commercial attention. Rather than wowing you with double tracked vocals, winning you over with perky optimism, or fading into the background Streisand stood out. The wounded lover performance she delivers in “Cry Me a River” (where she belts “Come on! Come on”!) obliterates Julie London’s placid original performance.

Similarly, the way she transforms “Happy Days are Here Again” from a cheery anthem into a dramatic ironic ballad of yearning is genius. In these two songs, she turned mainstream female pop singing on its ear demonstrating that female pop singers could make music that was powerful, subtle, and ironic and still sell.

Her debut was a hit and won her the Album of the Year Grammy, one of eight she eventually received. Streisand’s recording career paralleled her successful run on Broadway, which led to innovative TV specials, and a successful film career. In the musical theatre Streisand’s approach in I Can Get it for You Wholesale and Funny Girl were triumphant performances that provided an alternative toning down the sometimes literal histrionics of Ethel Merman.

Though Judy Garland certainly influenced Streisand, she also managed to add some bite to Garland’s stylized vulnerability. Streisand was tough and modern; she secured creative control of her music and her actions suggest that she realized that women could not adhere to the old entertainment scripts of the 1940s and 1950s. Looking back it is not surprising that she emerged in the era of Sex and the Single Girl and The Feminine Mystique because her professional instincts and expressive choices are of a piece with these paradigm shifters. Streisand’s highly modern feminine expression sustained her through the late 1960s. Though she defied her generation by not singing rock material initially, her ability to push certain elements of pre-rock culture in new directions was innovative making her as radical and enduring as any of the women who gained fame singing soul and acid rock.

Though some of her attempts to modernize her sound in the 1970s were clumsy, Streisand singing Laura Nyro, Stevie Wonder, Carole King, and Burt Bacharach-Hal David songs was more convincing than most of the attempts by pop, cabaret, and jazz singers trying to stay current. Further, Streisand originated several enduring standards from the 1970s including “The Way We Were” and “Evergreen,” something few interpretive singers accomplished at the time.

If the 1960s and 1970s were her most innovative and influential eras, she still managed to make impressive forays into post-disco pop (1980’s Guilty), modernize classic and contemporary Broadway songs, and bring a little class to the soft rock/adult contemporary field from the 1980s onward. She accomplished these while venturing into directing and producing films ( Yentl, Prince of Tides, The Mirror Has Two Faces), staging acclaimed concerts, and producing successful TV concert specials.

Streisand’s individual ambitions have given her an enduring career, and inspired other artists including those of her generation, such as Diana Ross, and younger singers like Mariah Carey, Whitney Houston and Toni Braxton. There are generations of aspiring actors, singers, and perhaps director/producers, who view Streisand as a model, and she seems poised to remain the kind of performer younger audiences will continue to discover and share. COPYRIGHT © 2017 VINCENT L. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

In 2001, the late jazz critic Joel E. Siegel reviewed a new Billie Holiday boxed set issued by Columbia Records in the November 9 issue of the Washington City Paper. While he praised the music effusively, he objected to literary critic Farah Jasmine Griffin’s essay on representations of Holiday in literature featured in the liner notes, “Literary Holiday”. The source of his ire was his belief that her argument was too narrowly derived from identity politics, “Filled with the buzzwords of academic race and gender analyses—Holiday is referred to as the ‘ancestor,’ ‘muse,’ and ‘foremother’ of black women writers—this racially skewed lubrication dismisses representations of writers of other racesor ignores them altogether.” Among the writers he mentions are Elizabeth Hardwick and Alice Adams. At the time, I was developing my relationship to jazz which I had always thought of as “black music” but he challenged me. Notably, when he argued that, “In her haste to disenfranchise non-African-American writers, Griffin fails to acknowledge that the overwhelming majority of Holiday’s songs were composed by songwriters of European descent and that the instruments that accompany her and the tonal system they employ are also of European, rather than African, origin.

Holiday’s music belongs to all of us, and Griffin’s attempt to appropriate it as the heritage of a single race is misguided, if not distasteful.” His line that “Billie belongs to all of us” shook me because it challenged so much of what I had believed up to that point. I also responded viscerally to the line because I had frequently found the pervasive reduction of Holiday’s art and life to tragedy, and the appropriation of Holiday’s art to perpetuate myths about doomed celebrities, grossly simplistic and exploitative. Siegel’s observation speaks to the literal fusion, of a European tonal system and the African-American blues aesthetic that is core to jazz’s componentry as a musical genre. He also pinpoints the broader reality that there is something profound in Lady’s Day’s artistry that has enabled her to become iconic as a musician across continents, generations, races, and genres. We can extract several questions from these debates including the following: In the age of mass production and digitization could any type of musical expression could ever remain contained within a specific culture?

How is this desirable and/or useful, if at all? Is there is an ethical way for ethnic/regional/underrepresented cultures to reach mass consciousness without erasing their origins and diluting the music itself? How invested are we in the potentially “transcendent” qualities of music, and does this ever trump affective investments in protecting/preserving/curating regionally/ethnically specific music? These are thorny issues and neither a laissez-faire perspective that all culture is ripe for the plucking or a curatorial identity politics approach seem satisfying.

To return to the jazz example, unlike regional genres, such as Washington D.C. Based Go-Go music, jazz did not remain confined to a specific geography or culture for very long. Nor were its leading practitioners leery of it reaching a mass audience. Though musicians frequently worry about genres suffering from commercialization and dilution, jazz ambassadors like Louis Armstrong welcomed its reign as the most influential musical aesthetic in popular music from the mid-1920s until the mid-to-late 1950s. Many critics, such as the late Amiri Baraka, lamented big band music and “cool jazz” as commercialized distortions of jazz’s blues roots. Arguably, though, jazz had to extend outward from enclaves like Chicago, Kansas City, New Orleans, and New York to grow. Otherwise, there would be no bebop, soul-jazz, avant-garde, Latin Jazz, Brazilian jazz, fusion, or other variations.

When recording technology emerged in the early 20th century, and mediums like records and radio made different types of music accessible to broad audiences, urban music reached rural areas, rural music reached urban areas, and these boundaries altered our contexts for listening. You did not need to participate in black Protestant church services to appreciate gospel singers; people all over the country who never witnessed the footlights of Broadway hummed show tunes; folks could enjoy country music from the comfort of their homes without ever visiting the South. The intentionally generic picture I am painting of the way these genres once reached the mass audience seems like a distant memory, but consider the following: If you did not grow up in certain communities in New York and Los Angeles, you are, disconnected, technically, from the cultural environments that produced hip-hop originally. If this is true of you and you enjoy hip-hop, does this make you a poser? Does this mean you are insincere in your listening practices? Does it compromise your ability to comprehend the music fully?

Most reasonable people would say no, or, probably not. The paradox of possessiveness is that artists usually want to be heard by anyone willing to listen.

But, because there is a cultural dimension to hip-hop, (e.g. Cultural references, slang, geography, fashion) the relevant issue is how deeply these elements, experienced through consumption, could reasonably extend into the lives of listeners. Since the late 1990s, many hip-hop scholars have noted the irony of upper middle class white teens consuming graphic forms of hip-hop (e.g. West Coast “gangsta” rap) but lacking cultural connections to the scenarios the music describes. This sensation is elevated when performers from genres outside of hip-hop adapt hip-hop’s musical and/or cultural elements into their music.

We can easily dismiss everyday people as posers, but musicians might profit from musical tourism and expand their audience. How do we reconcile the relationship of genuine curiosity to exploitation, and can we expand the terms of the conversation?

I return to the four questions above to explore what’s possible. In the age of mass production and digitization could any type of musical expression could ever remain contained within a specific culture? Once we document cultural expressions (e.g. Musical, choreographic, verbal, visual) they are immediately vulnerable to circulation and, by extension, appropriation. Notably, in the context of music, someone outside of the original environment can listen, duplicate, employ, and exploit the expression. They could also refine, embellish and enrich the tradition. There is more than one narrative possibility.

Technologies are integral to documenting and circulating culture. In the “selfie” age, where spectacle and external approval are so salient, one wonders if people seeking to protect/preserve culture are aware of how documenting their expression opens it up to public scrutiny. Exploitation, which I will define as co-optation or adaptation, without credit is one consequence. The local or regional creator of a style may be understandably upset if a style went national or international without acknowledgement of its geographic and/or cultural roots.

Three other relevant issues emerge. First, new music is usually generated by communities of musicians not just one individual. For example, the development of bossa nova (which I discussed in July 2017) occurred among multiple Brazilian musicians jamming together in the “bottle” region of Rio in the late 1950s. This is similar to the bebop musicians experimenting in New York in nightclubs in the early 1940s, and the DJs and MCs whose experiments with breakbeats created hip-hop in the 1970s. No one individual can usually take credit for creating music.

Second, if creators want to contain music to a space, documenting it and performing it means it will be heard and is thus vulnerable to circulation. Professional songwriters copyright their music and have publishing deals to ensure payment when other musicians record and/or perform their music, and when radio stations and other outlets broadcast their music.

Though this is an imperfect system, it is one way that musicians have tried to protect their creation. The challenge is both the shady tactics of the publishing industry (e.g. Record companies and song publishers offering musicians low royalty rates; corrupt managers adding their names to songs they did not write) and the fact that performance itself cannot be copy written. If there is a visual style and/or performance accompanying a song, it is much harder to control this aspect.

A person viewing it on YouTube could easily re-create it, embody it and claim it as their own. The larger question is how creating art means we are seeking some level of reception and even immortality. In the digital age media increases the chance of something gaining exposure, but also makes artistic ownership difficulty to control. Third, we must also consider the potential for appreciation. There is the benign and valid pleasure we experience listening to something fresh and original. Musicians may also feel compelled to re-create a sound, not necessarily for profit, but because they can hear how it speaks to their musical aesthetic. In the mid-1980s, Paul Simon traveled to South Africa and jammed with South African musicians.

He then edited these sessions into tracks and wrote melodies and lyrics that became the 1986 album Graceland. He was not the first Western musician to work with South African musicians but he was the most successful. He heard many overlaps between with rock and roll, gospel, and South African music and achieved immense commercial success and acclaim for his fusion.

Many people criticized Simon for breaking broke the U.N.’s culture ban, but he exemplified intercultural values showing the possibility of harmony through music and broadening the audience of the singing group Ladysmith Black Mambazo. He also toured with the group, as well as legendary South African musicians Miriam Makeba and Hugh Masekela, and they actively campaigned against apartheid. Some might characterize him as attempting to be a white Western “savior” but few contemporary musicians have been as successful in helping expose other musicians, illuminating political realities, and recognizing the cultural roots of their music with the same conviction. How desirable and/or useful is cultural preservation, if at all? People who originate from cultures that have been historically subject to genocide, enslavement, holocausts, and other forms of annihilation, tend to be guarded about how their culture travels. Given the technological landscape and illusions that we have reached a post- racial/gay/gender society (we haven’t!) we must ask: What are vulnerable populations trying to protect and/or preserve? Dignity is one of the foremost concerns for targeted groups.

Blackface minstrelsy emerged in the 19th century as the first form of national U.S. “entertainment.” Blackface minstrels were typically white performers, dressed in black face who sang, danced, and performed routines intended to mimic black performers. At the time, whiteness was crudely conceived as intellectual, organized, and dignified and blackness as the opposite.

Many scholars have argued that minstrelsy was a “mask” that allowed white performers to express a buried emotionality that would otherwise be unacceptable. As such, some have interpreted it as a form of appreciation and homage. Comparatively, many black Americans viewed (and still view it) as racist and degrading, in part because it confines black expression to one mode, defined by exaggerated and distorted ideas about black expression.

After centuries of enslavement and dehumanization it was perversely ironic for white culture to create and enact a version of blakc culture without recognizing the humanity of blacks. Many black performers have performed in blackface minstrelsy in the late 19th and early 20th century, but this was more for survival than anything artistic. Gradually, this style, which made people like vaudevillian Al Jolson famous, faded from popular entertainment. Arguably, it has manifested itself in everything from the cartoon-ish faux-gangster image of Vanilla Ice in the early 1990s to “urban themed” parties hosted by white fraternity and sororities featuring members in blackface. The indignities represented by blackface, which epitomizes appropriation, distortion, and exploitation is a core reason why many genre fans are leery of “urban” culture reaching the suburbs. There is a pervasive sense that those who mimic these emergent aesthetics are seduced by the cultural products but disinterested in the people and cultures that have generated the products.

This gap is in many ways a metaphor for U.S. Cultural appropriation, and the associated indignities, are often a kind of default conclusion we draw when culture we covet seems to emanate from the wrong person or place. The intent of culture making is at stake.

Presumably, performers want audiences, and those who do seek out ways to get their music circulated. If this is the case, what are the boundaries between listeners adapting and refining music and merely borrowing it? This feeds into my next question. Is there is an ethical way for ethnic/regional/underrepresented cultures to reach mass consciousness without erasing their origins and diluting the music itself? Stealing culture is easy; as is finger pointing. What is harder and more interesting is discussing what it looks like to pay homage properly and/or to fuse and hybridize effectively.

Prior to rock and roll professional songwriters and/or those contracted to write for Broadway and film wrote the most popular songs. These are the kinds of songs that made Holiday, and other legends like Tony Bennett and Ella Fitzgerald famous.

In the late 1940s through the mid-1950s a new class of singer-songwriters emerged in R&B, folk music, and rock and roll and it became common for singers to write their own material. Interpretive singers of the rock generation frequently covered music written by songwriters of their own generation, not from the swing era. Then, in the late 1970s and 1980s, a lot of rock generation sinners began recording pre-rock material with orchestras, which evoked the feel of pre-rock music.

Many critics applauded this as a sign of generational reconciliation, but others lamented the inferior musicality of the new generation and/or the failure to modernize “old” songs effectively. A few singers transcended the nostalgic preservation approach and garnered some critical respect. For example, Cassandra Wilson’s 1993 album Blue Light Til Dawn eschewed orchestras and traditional jazz instrumentation, and the typical jazz repertoire for a more stripped down sound with elements of electric blues and R&B. She also chose songs from multiple eras, and wrote original material. The result was a wholly contemporary approach to jazz singing that influenced her peers. She is an example of a singer from the rock generation (she was born in the mid-1950s) who melded her taste with her interest in jazz and blues music. More recently, singers like Joe Jackson who paid tribute to Duke Ellington on 2012’s funky The Duke, and contemporary post-bop singer Gretchen Parlato, have stretched the boundaries of what people might define as jazz by using contemporary, experimental interpretive approaches.

They are aiming to innovate and add to the tradition, rather than mimic and repeat easy formulas, and the results are dazzling. How invested are we in the potentially “transcendent” qualities of music, and does this ever trump affective investments in protecting/preserving/curating regionally/ethnically specific music? These questions return us to the original issue of transcendence. Music is cultural expression, entertainment, and pleasure. Artists want to people to listen, and often consume their music, as well as their persona and their aesthetic. Artists often seem less bothered by appropriation than audiences and critics.

I distinguish this from their anger toward corrupt record labels, managers, agents, accountants, and nightclub owners. Wanting to be heard and seeking visibility entails vulnerability, but also possibility. No one will ever be able to duplicate someone as gifted and unique as Holiday, or Bessie Smith, Louis Armstrong, Hank Williams, Laura Nyro, or Cassandra Wilson to name a few. We can enjoy their music and take inspiration from it but artists attempt to achieve originality. All artists reflect their influences, but perhaps the most distinguished artists synthesize elements of their influences into something that feels connected yet distinctive. Finding your own language—musically, visually, emotionally—and continually refining it is a consistent pathway our most heralded icons seem to pursue.

The examples of mimicry, cultural exploitation and formula I have outlined represent the worst of what happens when artists fail to tap into their roots and create something new. But there are plenty examples of artists whose careers are defined by this approach from Paul Simon to Gretchen Parlato. Holiday derived her phrasing, her interpretations of lyrics, and her sense of time from absorbing the art of predecessors like Bessie Smith and Armstrong. While we can hear elements of their influence in her artistry, what we mostly hear is Holiday.

She has inspired fine artists like Tony Bennett, Dee Dee Bridgewater, Etta James, Abbey Lincoln, and Carmen McRae, all of whom have recorded tributes. Yet no one would ever confuse her with them, or vice versa and that is the point. They learned from her that each artist has to make a unique imprint to matter.

There is no substitute for the real thing. COPYRIGHT © 2017 VINCENT L. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. 1993 Blue Light Til’ Dawn: Cassandra Wilson developed a highly personal style on this landmark which synthesizes jazz standards, Delta blues, and R&B via her sultry voice and languid phrasing, a style that has established an indelible imprint on her peers.

From Bessie to Brazil: Cabaret-jazz singer Susannah McCorkle surveys some of pop music’s most enduring songs from Bessie Smith, Paul Simon, and Johnny Mercer; includes the definitive English language version of“Waters of March.” Riffs, Beats & Coda Reader Selection: Ana Aguilera Silva. Daydream: At age 25, Mariah Carey started acting her age and having a little fun on hip-pop-soul mini masterpieces, “Fantasy,” “Always Be My Baby,” and the album cut “Daydream (Interlude),” and sensuous soul ballads (“Underneath the Stars”). Wrecking Ball: Emmylou Harris covers Neil Young, The McGarrigle Sisters, Lucinda Williams, Bob Dylan, and Jimi Hendrix, etc.

Bathed in a gothic, deeply atmospheric production style that presents her voice in a grittily crystalline, weathered style. Love and Peace: A Tribute to Horace Silver: Dee Dee Bridgewater’s vocal album of Horace Silver’s signature bop tunes is a funky, bluesy, swinging affair with tender ballads and sizzling swingers by vocal jazz’s top vocal improviser. 1996 Live at Blues Alley: The late D.C. Area favorite Eva Cassidy emerged as one of the most versatile interpreters of American popular music on this sizzling live set; she brings her unique soulfulness to the songs of Irving Berlin, Al Green, Pete Seeger, Paul Simon, and T-Bone Walker with flawless aplomb. 1997 Baduizm: Erykah Badu shifted the R&B paradigm from hard-edged slickness to warm, organic, earthy music that made it cool for artists to revealed their inner souls in their own musical and visual language. 1998 Car Wheels on a Gravel Road: Lucinda Williams transitioned from being a respected songwriter to one of the most prominent performers of Americana on this masterpiece of soulful folk-rock reflections. Hungry Again: Dolly Parton was already a legend after 31 years in the business, but she reminded folks of her vitality on this return to her roots in deep country, folk, and gospel.

Miseducation of Lauryn Hill: Hill gained fame fronting The Fugees as a singer and rapper but she created a bold personal vision of female dignity and racial pride on her progressive hip-hop soul debut [1998 Grammy Award Winner for Album of the Year] Ray of Light: Madonna reinvented herself as the queen of Eurodance pop on her finest album; the throb of “Ray of Light” and “Nothing Really Matters,” and the pathos of “Frozen” and “The Power of Goodbye” reflected a newfound complexity. Sing It!: A thrilling summit featuring three modern R&B and blues masters: Marcia Ball, Tracy Nelson, and Irma Thomas.

Joyful, poignant, and soulful it features a range of songs on the spectrum including Bobby Blue Bland’s “Yield Not to Temptation,” “You Don’t Know Nothin’ About Love,” and “Love Maker.”. Live at Yoshi’s: Jazz virtuoso Dee Dee Bridgewater has recorded several thrilling live sets but she is at her zenith here; a masterful singer, improviser and entertainer, you must hear her seduce her audience ion “Love for Sale” and imitate Ella Fitzgerald singing James Brown (!). Tropical Brainstorm: The late British singer-songwriter Kristy MacColl always defied genre and her final album was no exception: cheeky, observant and full of heart songs like, “In These Shoes?” and “Celestine” are refreshingly smart and original.

Who is Jill Scott? Words and Music: Jill Scott welcomed listeners into her life and art on this deeply personal kaleidoscopic survey of soul ballads, slow jams, go-go, and songs that defy categories, much like the artist. Wicked: The blues is alive thanks to fresh new voices like Shemekia Copland whose sophomore album showcases a vocal power and interpretive skill that makes her an inheritor of the mantle of Etta James and Koko Taylor. 2001 Ballads: Remembering John Coltrane: Karrin Allyson, and an ace band especially saxophonist James Carter, boldy reimagine Coltrane’s legendary album as a vocal session including a lovely wordless “Naima.” I Hope You Dance: The openhearted title track crossed country Leann Womack over to pop listeners, but the standouts are Womack’s hard-hitting interpretations of Rodney Crowell’s “Ashes By Now” and Julie and Buddy Miller’s “Does My Ring Burn Your Finger.”. M!ssundaztood: Just when you thought P!nk was yet another teen act she came into her own as a lover of dance funk (“Get the Party Started”), rock (“Just Like a Pill”), and soul (“Misery” sung with Steven Tyler!) on this dazzling collection of fresh, idiosyncratic tunes.

Richland Woman Blues: Maria Muldaur kicked off a three album series on America’s classic blues and country blues traditions revisiting the repertoire of Memphis Minnie, Bess Smith, Mississippi John Hurt, and traditional with a contemporary acoustic approach. 2002 A Little Moonlight: A lovely and buoyant 21st century jazz approach to popular standards by Dianne Reeves highlighted by “Loads of Love,” “I’m All Smiles,” and “What a little Moonlight Can Do.” Come Away with Me: Pianist, vocalist, and songwriter Norah Jones surprised the music industry with the amazing critical and reception to her elegant debut; both original material like the wistful “Don’t Know Why” and her contemporary renditions of classics like “The Nearness of You” and “Cold Cold Heart” helped her stand apart from the pop mainstream. [2002 Grammy Winner Album of the Year]. 19: Adele debuted her powerful but controlled style on her promising debut album, best known for the yearning original “Chasing Pavements” and a lovely cover of Bob Dylan’s “Make You Feel My Love.” 2009 Love is the Answer (Quartet Version): 47 years into her recording career, Barbra Streisand recorded her finest album ever, singing bossa novas, chansons, and classic American ballads in a relaxed, intimate style that gets to the musical meat and emotional heart of each song without fuss. 2010 Fellowship: Before gaining fame in jazz, vocalist Lizz Wright had firm roots in gospel which she revisits with a contemporary flavor and fervency. Blow Away: Seattle based independent jazz vocalist Janice Mann has a beautifully textured voice and well-honed jazz sensibilities; her hushed phrasing and lean sense of swing helps her discover new the nuances in familiar songs helping you to hear them for the first time. 2011 American Road: A daring feat of interpretation by the Tierney Sutton Band that stretches the boundaries of a uniquely American repertoire drawn from the folk (“Wayfaring Stranger”), gospel (“Amazing Grace”), musical theater (“Somewhere”), and classic pop traditions.

1974 Court & Spark: Joni Mitchell’s most textured and engaging album is the luscious Court & Spark, which features some of her most notable songs including “Help Me,” “Free Man in Paris” and her rendition of Annie Ross’s “Twisted.” Elis & Tom: Brazil’s finest female singer, Elis Regina, and its finest composer, AntonioCarlos Jobim, joined forces on this sublime bossa nova masterpiece; their renditions of Jobim’s classic shave not been surpassed. Heart Like a Wheel: A classic and highly influential album featuring sterling renditions of songs popularized by The Everly Brothers, Buddy Holly, and Betty Everett, as well as newer songs by The McGarrigle Sisters, James Taylor and Little Feat. Phoebe Snow: Snow’s voice had a fluid ethereal sound and quirky sensibility that made her stand out from her singer-songwriters in the mid-1970s thanks to originals like “Poetry Man” and “Harpo’s Blues.” 1975 The Changer & the Changed: Cris Williamson was one of the most beloved singers to merge from the 1970s lesbian feminist “women’s music” circuit and this folk-rock masterpiece features beautiful anthems celebrating nature, spirituality, and female sensuality. Pieces of the Sky: Classic and modern Emmylou Harris was a folkie who grew to love country music through her association with Gram Parsons; her first significant album reveals her excellent taste in music and mastery of classic country (Louvin Brothers), contemporary country (Merle Haggard, Dolly Parton), and rock music (The Beatles).

1976 Dreamboat Annie: Ann and Nancy Wilson translated their love for Led Zeppelin style heavy metal into a potent personal style on their debut, which introduced listeners to their approach on the rock classics “Magic Man” and “Crazy on You.”. Parallel Lines: Blondie, defined by the voice of Debbie Harry, found the right balance of dance pop energy and punk attitude here landing at multiple stops including rock-disco (“Heart of Glass”), ‘60s pop homage (“Hanging on the Telephone”), and genuine punk rock (“One Way or Another”). 1979 The Audience with Betty Carter: Bop songstress Carter was the most adventurous vocal improviser in jazz and this set finally captured her dynamic ability to completely transform standards, compose and perform her own original improvisational vocal showcases, and interact like an instrumentalist with her band. Bad Girls: Donna Summer continued to expand the scope of disco and transcend it rocking out on “Hot Stuff,” sashaying to the dance floor on “Dim All the Lights,” and commenting on fame on the sassy title rack (“Toot Toot, Beep Beep”) and “Sunset People.”.

Brenda Russell: Classic soul ballads like “If Only for One Night,” “So Good, So Right,” and “In the Thick of It” originated from the penand voice of singer songwriter Brenda Russell who invites you in with her gentle piano and intimate vocal delivery. Rickie Lee Jones: Drawing on the rhythms and attitude of the Beats, the improvisational spirit of jazz, and the free flowing style of Laura Nyro, Jones was a fresh voice on her classic 1979 debut, which features her biggest hit, the loping “Chuck E’s in Love.” 1980 Bad Reputation: Joan Jett emerged as one of the freshest new voices in ‘80s rock on this album; influenced by rock ‘n’ roll, glam rock, ‘60s pop/rock, and R&B she defined herself on the gutsy title track, “Do You Wanna Touch (Yeah)” and a rocking cover of “Shout.”. Chaka Khan: Chaka Khan’s most accomplished R&B album is a shimmering funk masterpiece featuring a soaring version of Michael Jackson’s “Got to Be There,” a smoking duet with Rick James (“Slow Dancing”), and a stunning “Be Bop medley” featuring lyricized versions of classic bop melodies. The Key: Rocker Joan Armatrading explores a variety of scenarios related to gender in her muscular voice and contemplative lyric style, in a punchy rock setting with vibrant new wave-ish touches. Madonna: The legend begins here with spirited, melodic pop (“Holiday,” “Lucky Star,” “Burning Up”) delivered with the right mix of spunk and funk; the videos made her an MTV superstar.

1985 Whitney Houston: Houston’s supple voice and soulful phrasing made her the premiere pop singer of the age thanks to her interpretive prowess on dramatic ballads (“Saving All My Love for You”) and her light touch with dance pop (“How Will I Know”). 1986 Rapture: Anita Baker made R&B music for grown-ups on this retronuevo masterpiece, highlighted by the dramatic sweep of “Sweet Love,” and lush, unhurried songs like “Caught Up in the Rapture” and “Been So Long.” Control: Janet Jackson made the leap from anonymity to stardom on this funky collection of anthems that reflected her budding personal independence (“Control”) and assertive sexuality (“Nasty,” “What Have You Done for Me Lately?”). Famous Blue Raincoat: Jennifer Warnes’s honey smooth voice and smart phrasing transformed Leonard Cohen’s famously dour songs into melodic contemporary pop, and yielded a few new classics including the Warnes and Cohen original, “Song of Bernadette.” Timeless: The soulful Diane Schuur was one of the most exciting new vocalists in vocal jazz in the 1980s and the mastery of big band swing, ballad standards and blues, she demonstrated on Timeless assured listeners the tradition would continue to thrive. Coming Around Again: Carly Simon reignited her career with the wistful title track and a series of songs addressing the perspective of a woman reaching middle age and reflecting on love, relationships, and the nature of desire. Female Trouble: Nona Hendryx, best known for singing in LaBelle, is an adventurous musician who pulls together her different sides very convincingly on this entertaining mix of funk, rock, and dance pop. The Lion and the Cobra: Sinead O’Connor’s debut is a moody portrait of a complex artist with an intriguing vision of politics, sex, and spirituality beyond the juvenile themes and tiring musical formulas of much 1980s pop/rock.

Trio: Emmylou Harris, Dolly Parton, and Linda Ronstadt did what they have always done best; drawing on the best of American music from a variety of era and genres tocreate something special; in this case a beautifully harmonized country-folk masterpiece showcasing the songs of Jimmie Rodgers, Phil Spector (!), Linda Thompson and Parton. 1988 Used Guitars: Marti Jones’s Used Guitars is a sublime meshing of singer, material and arrangements. Influenced by pop, folk, R&B, country and even aspects of punk she synthesizes them masterfully on the songs of Jackie Deshannon, John Hiatt, Janis Ian, Graham Parker, and originals.

Lucinda Williams: Rocking, poetic, and romantic, Lucinda Williams finally stepped away from her country blues and folk influences and found her own voice as a writer on this blazing set featuring original versions of “I Just Wanted to See You So Bad,” “The Night’s Too Long,” “Changed the Locks,” “Passionate Kisses,” and “Crescent City,” covered later by Mary Chapin-Carpenter Emmylou Harris, Patty Loveless, and Tom Petty, among others. This Woman: K.T. Oslin eschews the co-dependent sentimentality of country lyrics on This Woman by centering women’s desires in songs that reflect the upward mobility, sexual freedom and greater sense of choice available to women of her generation.

Tracy Chapman: Possessing a gift for melody, genuine narrative storytelling prowess and an endearing choked tremolo Tracy Chapman came out of left field to become the new voice of contemporary folk on her superb debut featuring “Fast Car” and “Talkin’ Bout a Revolution.” 1989 Absolute Torch & Twang: k.d. Lang transitioned from a reverent student of country to one of its most trenchant writers and powerful vocalists thanks to the Bo Diddley-esque “Didn’t I,” the torchy “Pulling Back the Reins,” and the poignant “Nowhere to Stand.” Porcelain: A gorgeous collection of sumptuous pop, lite samba, and jazz ballads written and performed by British singer-songwriter Julia Fordham. Flying Cowboys: Rickie Lee Jones hit a second creative peak in the 1990s on this genreless mix of vibrant pop tunes, reggae, and folk vignettes. Unforgettable with Love: After 15 years singing R&B Natalie Cole transitioned seamlessly to vocal jazz on this alternately lush and swinging tribute to her legendary father and the classic music that made him famous. [1991 Grammy Winner Album of the Year] 1992 Blame it On My Youth: Canadian vocalist Holly Cole’s U.S. Debut is a progressive blend of Broadway and pre-rock pop with songs by Lyle Lovett, Tom Waits, etc. That gels into a thrilling whole; a benchmark of ‘90s cabaret-jazz.

Diva: Annie Lennox redefined herself from the chameleonic front woman of the Eurythmics to the soulful diva of “Why” and “Walking on Broken Glass.”. I decided it would be fun to respond to NPR’s “150 greatest albums by female artists” list released on July 28, 2017. I enjoyed reading their list; I own about 50 of the albums and love many of their choices. In terms of sheer range, their list has is great stylistic and cultural diversity, and a broad representation of eras.

Still, no one agrees 100% with anyone’s list so this is my turn. I selected albums only and tried to avoid compilations.

There are a few albums from the 1950s that can only be purchased in combination with another album; fortunately, this did not compromise the quality of the list. I selected the albums based primarily on quality, as in “Does this album provide an enjoyable listening experience for me, and does it fulfill its artistic aspirations? I also considered, “Does this album feature songs, arrangements, and/or performances that has inspired other artists?” In essence, does it have staying power? Some artists have vast discographies of impressive music and repeat themselves so I tried to consider if the album is merely a good representation of their style or a true advancement? To mix things up, I invited two Riffs, Beats & Codas readers to share a selection and their rationales.

Checkout their selections in Part 3. I aimed for variety very intentionally so I had to edit myself to avoid overrepresenting prolific artists to provide space for a wide range of artists and styles. For example, I wrote an entire post in 2016 about my admiration for the artistry of Sarah Vaughan, thus I restricted my Vaughan entries to a few representative examples. Viva variety! I organized the albums by year. This approach reflects a few things: Most recording artists recorded singles until the mid-1950s when albums were in the process of becoming the dominant recording medium Because of the latter, a lot of important artists (e.g.

Bessie Smith) did not record “albums” during their lifetime and/or their best work is featured on compilations The yearly format illustrates the music of the zeitgeist; for example vocal jazz was still mainstream pop in the mid-1950s so the first decade is heavy on vocal jazz and cabaret You can see where I am age-wise by the volume of album/year. There are far fewer albums from the 2000-2010s and more independent music because as I have aged my taste has gotten narrower. I find less and less mainstream pop music appealing which explains the prevalence of music recorded in genres that appeal to older audiences such as blues and jazz. Related to this is the zeitgeist issue. There are albums that have sold millions of copies and are framed as “defining an age” that I find marginal in quality and/or overrated.

This is highly subjective, which illustrates the fact that lists reflect personal tastes even when “serious” writers are trying to thing about historical posterity. Finally, every year is not represented.

I whittled this down from over an initial list of 290 albums, which tells you a lot about the excellent albums women have recorded in the 67 year (!) period the list covers. Most performers who sing in languages other than English have limited commercial exposure in the U.S. So there are fewer albums in these tongues than I would like. I listen to many vocalists singing in Portuguese and Spanish, but am not as confident in certain genres as I am in U.S. I listen to far less music sung in Creole, French, Korean, and other tongues.

This reflects my own limitations and larger structural realities. Record companies focus more on crossover acts, especially signers who perform in English and other languages to ensure crossover success, with rare exception. They also often lump diverse artists under the “world music” category, which flattens out difference. By association, many Americans have a limited familiarity with international acts. For example, many Americans know Astrud Gilberto (“Girl from Ipanema”), but know little about other Brazilian female vocalists. Few since Gilberto have really “crossed over” in the States. I hope to devote future attention to the topic.

I hope you recognize some of your favorites, discover some new artists, and find some head scratching omissions. 1950 Ella Sings Gershwin: After years of singing commercial novelty songs Decca Records let Fitzgerald record a 10-song suite of great songs in a mature style, accompanied by the elegant pianist Ellis Larkins.[ Pure Ella, which combines Sings Gershwin with Fitzgerald’s fine 1954’s set Songs in a Mellow Mood, is the only way to purchase both].

Night in Manhattan: Lee Wiley’s cool tone and supple phrasing bring out the emotional richness of ballad standards like “Manhattan,” “I’ve got a Crush on You,” and, “Street of Dreams” on this elegant album. [Recorded in 1951 when albums were only 8 songs, it is only available in a three-fer with exquisite “songbook” albums Sings Vincent Youmans (1952) and Sings Irving Berlin (1952) making it a great value!] 1954 Dinah Jams: The country’s greatest blues singer showcases her ability to improvise with modern jazz musicians in front of an invited audience. Sarah Vaughan: Bebop’s premier vocalist was able to sing and jam blissfully free from commercial pressures on this sumptuous suite of ballads and mid-tempo swingers with a simpatico small group, including trumpeter Clifford Brown. 1955 Black Coffee: Vocal sensuality Peggy Lee made one of the first “concept albums” on this collection of torch ballads and love songs recorded in an intimate small group jazz setting that flatters her subtle vocal style. For Those in Love: Dinah Washington and Quincy Jones collaborated on this exquisitely beautiful collection of ballads played by top-drawer jazz musicians and featuring brilliant solos. In the Land of Hi-Fi: Sarah Vaughan and a big band swing their asses off on blazing versions of “Cherokee” and “How High the Moon,” and transform “Over the Rainbow” into a paragon of sensuous balladry Something Cool: June Christy sang the anthem of the “cool school” vocal jazz aesthetic with its existential almost cinematic title track; she renders the surrounding songs with equal detail and musicality. 1956 Blue Rose: Rosemary Clooney broke from commercial pop on this program of Ellington-Strayhorn songs, including the wordless title track Ellington wrote for her and the definitive version of “Sophisticated Lady.” Ella Fitzgerald Sings the Cole Porter Songbook: Fitzgerald kicked off her heralded 16 album songbook series on this collection of interpretations that are as funny, sexy, and dramatic as Porter’s revered songs.

Midnight at Mabel Mercer’s: This eloquent program of songs captures the regal mannerisms and intimate interpretive genius of the Queen of New York cabaret Mabel Mercer in her prime. Pick Yourself Up: The always hip and swinging Anita O’Day transitioned from swing to bop- inspired improvisation seamlessly; here, her cool tone never wavers on these virtuoso displays of improvisational prowess. Songs of a Love Affair: Jean Shepard recorded the first country music concept album, in this case one organized around the drama of an affair breaking up amarriage; classic country drama! A Tribute to Andy Razaf: Razaf’s witty, swinging, and diverse songs got their first proper album treatment via the delicate touch of the ever swinging Maxine Sullivan and her band of all-stars. 1957 Odetta Sings Ballads & Blues: Folk singer Odetta began her legend here singing folk songs and spirituals that revived folk music as a vital contemporary genre and inspired generations of performers to explore the genre’s deep roots. Swingin’ Easy: Sarah Vaughan thrived in a small jazz groups and on Swing she and her bandmates perform definitive versions of “All of Me,” “Prelude to a Kiss,” and “They Can’t Take That Away from Me”; she wrote and performed one of the most innovative (and imitated) jazz band anthems of all time, “Shulie A Bop.”. 1958 Little Girl Blue: Nina Simone’s debut turned listeners on to her elegant, powerful piano playing and unique vocal style; highlights include the classics “My Baby Just Cares for Me” and “Love Me or Leave Me.” 1959 Ella Sings the George & Ira Gershwin Songbook: Ella Fitzgerald and master arranger Nelson Riddle give a wide range of popular and rare Gershwin songs a deluxe orchestral and big band interpretive treatment over three discs.

1960 Rockin’ with Wanda: Rockabilly queen Wanda Jackson staked her claim as the first lady of rock ‘n’ roll field with stellar cuts like “Fujiyama Mama” and “Mean Man.”. 1961 Judy Garland at Carnegie Hall: America’s most beloved singing actress gave a bravura performance of her signature tunes in all of her glory at Carnegie and the results were captured on tape. [1961 Grammy Winner Album of the Year] Out of the Blue: Just when people thought vocal jazz had peaked Carol Sloane wowed everyone with her accomplished debut, one marked by the improvisational skill, musical phrasing and good taste that defined her career for the next 50 years. Sings Lover Man and Other Billie Holiday Favorites: Carmen McRae established herself at Decca records in the mid-1950s, but her finest early album is a salute to her greatest influence Lady Day; like Holiday, McRae is an individual with a high level of musicality who puts a personal imprint on everything she sings.

Songs I Like to Sing!: Helen Humes began as a sassy young blues singer and sang with Count Basie and big bands before becoming a formidable jazz artist; here she delivers some of the most effortlessly swinging performances of standards like “Mean to Me,” “My Old Flame,” and “St. 1963 Back to the Blues: On one of her final albums, the Queen of the Blues, Dinah Washington, reclaimed her crown singing with the incisive bite and radiant sexiness that made her famous. Barbra Streisand Album: At 23 years old Barbra Streisand contemporized the vocal pop tradition with riveting dramatic versions of “Cry Me a River” and “Happy Days are Here Again” that indicated a startling command of the tradition and a remarkable instrument.

More than a New Discovery: No 1960s pop songwriter wrote with the melodic freedom and lyrical intrigue of Laura Nyro whose debut features classics like “Wedding Bell Blues,” “Stoney End,” “And When I Die,” and “Flim Flam Man” that became hits for other performers, though her versions remain definitive. Ode to Billie Joe: Bobby Gentry introduced the world to the mystery of Billie Joe McAllister on this moody, swampy southern folk classic. Surrealistic Pillow: The Jefferson Airplane kicked open the door to psychedelic and acid rock era for a generation thanks to anthemic hits like “White Rabbit” and “Somebody to Love,” sung powerfully by Grace Slick. Wildflowers: Judy Collins showcased the purity her crystal clear soprano and her interpretive chops on this folk masterpiece which features classic versions of Joni Mitchell’s “Both Sides Now,” Leonard Cohen’s “Sisters of Mercy” and “Hey that’s No Way to sayGoodbye,” and her enduring original “Since You Asked.” 1968 Delta Sweetie: On this layered mix of blues, country, and folk tunes Bobbie Gentry (“Ode to Billie Joe”) presents an offbeat, and often dark portrait of Southern life through a dazzling array of characters and scenarios. Eli and the 13th Confession: After debuting with one of the most original and frequently covered collections of new songs to premiere in the 1960s, Laura Nyro revealed her inner creative essence in even more personal terms on the slinky melodies, cryptic lyrics and odd harmonies of sings like “Luckie,” ‘Poverty Train,” and “Emmie.”.

Lady Soul: Aretha Franklin earned this album’s title easily galloping mightily through “Chain of Fools” and “Since You’ve Been Gone,” and delivering the unspeakably beautiful “You Make Me Feel like a Natural Woman,” and the majestic “Ain’t No Way.” 1969 Dusty in Memphis: Dusty Springfield morphed from a skillful jack-of-all trades who could handle girl group pop, R&B, and bombastic balladry to a lean interpreter of soulful, coolly erotic anthems like “Son of a Preacher Man” and “Just a Little Lovin’” on this classic collection. First Take: Roberta Flack pioneered a new fusion of folk, soul, jazz, and chamber pop on her debut which features her and a small band recording now iconic versions of “The First Time ever I Saw Your Face,” “Compared to What,” and “Hey that’s No Way to Say Goodbye,” in one take with Flack on vocals and piano; both the album and “First” became belated hits in 1972. New York Tendaberry: Laura Nyro wrapped up one of pop’s most stunning trifectas in this lyrically elusive and stylistically kaleidoscopic masterpiece; many singers have mined the riches of “Save the Country” and “Time and Love.” 1971 Blue: How could an album featuring oft recorded classics like “River,” “All I Want,” and “A case of You,” not be classic; Joni Mitchell’s first masterpiece. Pearl: Janis Joplin’s epitaph is her greatest recording achievement highlighted by her nuanced version of “Me and Bobby McGee” and soulful wailers like “Cry Baby” and “Mercedes Benz.” Tapestry: Carole King transitioned from a songwriter for hire to a popular artist capable of writing intimate yet relatable songs about her experiences, like “It’s Too Late,” “So Far Away,” and “Tapestry,” all documented on one of singer-songwriter pop’s most consistent and enjoyable albums. 1972 Amazing Grace: You can always hear the gospel in Aretha Franklin’s voice, but she literally takes listeners to church on this stunning album recorded live in a church. Be Altitude: Respect Yourself: The Staples Singer’s ability to sing secular music and still hold on to their gospel roots shines brilliantly on their definitive hits “I’ll Take you There” and “Respect Yourself” where the mighty Mavis Staples soars.

Give it Up: On her second album vocalist and slide guitar player Bonnie Raitt proved she could rave (the title track), smolder (“Love Me Like a Man”), and mourn (“Love Has No Pride”) with equal authority. The Great American Songbook: Jazz singer Carmen McRae was a deft interpreter whose subtle improvisational choices put an individual touch on everything, which this album captures wonderfully live; it’s thrilling hearing her work her magic on tunes as varied as “Day by Day,” “A Song for You,” and “Mr. Ugly.” 1973 Divine Miss M: Bette Midler remade cabaret into a hip contemporary style on her stunning debut, which slows down chestnuts like “Do You Wanna Dance” to draw out their subtext, and speeds up tunes like “Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy” to reveal their inherent excess, an interpretive landmark. Imagination: Gladys Knight and the Pips were performers since their teens, but they reached an acme of excellence on the consistently excellent performances on Imagination highlighted by their signature “Midnight Train to Georgia,” “I’ve Got to Use My Imagination,” and “Where Peaceful Waters Flow” among other tight, soulful performances. Live in Japan: After a few years recording unsuitable pop material jazz legend Sarah Vaughan reminded listeners of her immense improvisational gifts on this spacious double album featuring some of her most thrilling vocals including an epic “Nearness of You” (featuring Vaughan on piano), and a hypnotic rendition of Jobim’s “Wave.”.

The music industry undervalues female identified songwriters, which is not surprising since our society undervalues women. Though composer-performers like Carole King, Joni Mitchell, and Laura Nyro, as well as songwriters in country music (e.g. Dolly Parton, Cindy Walker, Tammy Wynette) and jazz (Peggy Lee, Abbey Lincoln), have inspired tribute albums female musicians are primarily viewed as vocalists.

When jazz vocalist Cleo Laine released Woman to Woman in 1988, it stood out because it was comprised of songs written entirely by women. Though she noted in the liner notes that there was no shortage of songs to choose from, critics, historians, and audiences view composing primarily as a male occupation. Interpretive singers in a variety of genres cover songs by Duke Ellington and Billy Strayhorn, George and Ira Gershwin, Bob Dylan, Paul Simon, Randy Newman, Stevie Wonder, John Hiatt, and Bruce Springsteen so frequently that it is never remarked upon unless it is a conceptual project by a female singer.

For example, Tori Amos’s Strange Little Girls (2001) and Leann Rimes’s Lady and Gentlemen (2011) albums both flipped genders. Audiences seem to accept passively the idea that male songwriting lens are somehow universal, but this is patently false and distorted. Because of this perception female writers struggle for visibility and affirmation. Intrinsic to these issues is whether there is something distinctly gendered about songs, if not in the music, then in the stories they tell. I am less concerned with literal anthems like Helen Reddy’s “I Am Woman” or Chaka Khan’s hit “I’m Every Woman” than subtler material. This is a difficult issue because while it’s incredibly essentialist to label a chord progression as “masculine” or “feminine,” especially since these notions are constructs, we can more easily tie gender to certain kinds of lyrics. Female identified people are more likely to experience certain things socially, and female produced art reflects this reality. For example, we believe the multitude of singers who have interpreted the French ballad “My Man (Mon Homme)” (largely associated with Billie Holiday) because domestic violence against women is so prevalent.

Similarly, while sexual assault affects people of multiple genders, it is (sadly) predictable that two female composers, Lady Gaga and Diane Warren, wrote the song “Til It Happens to You” as the anthem to the 2015 documentary The Hunting Ground, about sexual assault in higher education, which affects women disproportionately. Slightly less severe, but still relevant, are the sexual dynamics of intimate relationships.

Rosanne Cash’s 1990 album Interiors, largely organized around her troubled married Rodney Crowell, has some of the most searing songs, musically and lyrically, in the contemporary folk-country canon. On “Dance with the Tiger” when she sings “Don’t give me your life/It was a brilliant idea inventing the home/Creatures of habit, American fools/Reaching for the stars while we’re standing on stools” the strains of idyllic American domesticity resonate. Though a man co-wrote the song, and might weigh in on marital challenges, the song feels even more poignant when juxtaposed with “Real Live Woman.” Here, she rejects her perceived role, as subservient to a man’s success and sings (probably to Crowell, who co-wrote the song!) “I don’t want to be a man/I just want to be what I am/I don’t want to hide my light so yours keeps shining.” I can only imagine the dinner table conversation about this song, but its premise is distinctly feminine in perspective. I hear similar experiential richness in in Lucinda Williams’s “Passionate Kisses” which was a Grammy winning hit for Mary Chapin-Carpenter in 1992. Women typically push society to view them complexly, hence the protagonist’s plea, “Is it too much to demand/I want a full house/And a rock and roll band.” I cannot imagine a male–identified person singing these verses because women bear the burden of child raising and managing their homes. They deserve the chance to also rock out.

What moves me about this song is its plaintive affirmation of women as complete human beings, not just mothers or wives. Similarly, country composer-performer K.T.

Oslin, who I have written about previously, has a knack for telling poignant truths about her experience. In 1988’s “This Woman” she is unapologetic about nomadic sexuality, “This woman’s in love with you baby/This woman don’t think you can do no wrong/But I feel it’s only fair to warn you/This woman don’t stay in love long.” 2001’s “Live Close by Visit Often” is equally honest in its jocular and jaundiced declaration, “I'm not lookin’ for a husband/Found out the hard way it doesn't work for me/I need a friend/I want a lover/I have to be alone occasionally.”. Though we primarily associate the singer-songwriter era with the 1970s era onward women have voiced their distinct experiences for over a century.

For example, Bessie Smith’s’ classic migration tale, 1923’s “Far Away Blues,” speaks of black women migrating to the Chicago area only to miss certain elements of the South. “Wild Women Don’t Have the Blues” first written and performed by classic blues singer Ida Cox in 1924 encouraged women to have fun independently of their relationships, which was unique in the 1920s. Maria Muldaur covered Smith’s song in 2001, and Francine Reed and Saffire The Uppity Blues Women are among the many who have interpreted “Wild Women.” In both instances, a classic message of female experience transcended a single era.

Because so many people associate female musicians with vocal performance many may not realize that famous vocalists, such as Billie Holiday, Peggy Lee, Madonna, Gloria Estefan, Mariah Carey, Adele, have written or co-written many, or most, of their recorded output. This does not make them inherently superior to non-writing singers, nor does it necessarily qualify them as feminists. But, it’s possible that the next hit you hear is written by a woman who is writing from a specific, rather than generically “universal” place; one that may require you to listen more intently. In 1979, President Jimmy Carter inaugurated June as Black Music History Month, which President Barack Obama renamed African-American Music Appreciation Month in 2009.

Though the concept of “black” music could apply to any kind of music performed by black people technically, we usually tend to understand it in terms of genre. Artists associated with hip-hop, R&B, reggae, blues, jazz and gospel are usually the starting point for conversations about intersections of blackness and musicianship. The historical emergence of these genres from black subcultures, ranging from the derivation of gospel from the West African “ring shout” to the post-industrial urban context that wrought hip-hop, defines this iconic association. Yet, just as blackness as an identity, culture and realm of experience, must be understood beyond conventional wisdom, the music created by black musicians must be understood complexly.

Music is a compelling space for uncovering obscure, or forgotten, artists whose stories tell a fuller richer story of blackness than usual. For example, most listeners primarily associate country music with Southern white musicians and audiences. Though many people are aware that artists like Ray Charles and Charley Pride broke color barriers in country music, and Hootie & the Blowfish frontman Darius Rucker has become a solo country star, there’s more to the story. The 1998 three-disc set From Where I Stand: The Black Experience in Country Music introduced me to important figures rarely discussed in mainstream black music conversations. For many years, I thought jazz musicians were at the forefront of musical integration in the recording industry.

In fact, Taylor’s Kentucky Boys, an integrated string band comprised of black fiddler Jim Booker, guitarist John Booker, banjo player Marion Underwood, guitarist Willie Young, and occasional vocalists, did the first racially integrated recording sessions in a studio in 1927. The geographic and cultural proximity of black, white and Native American musicians living in the South birthed a more diverse brand of Southern music than most people realize. There was a proliferation of string bands, like the Georgia Yellow Hammers, the Dallas String Band, James Cole String Band, and others, as well as solo performers. Harmonica player Deford Bailey (1899-1982) was the first African-American musician associated with the Grand Ole Opry’s radio program, from 1926-41. He also appeared on the Opry’s 1939 television debut on NBC’s Prince Albert Show. Despite these monuments he was not accepted fully, and experienced being referred to as the Opry’s “mascot” as well as the denial of service at restaurants and hotels when her toured small towns.

While racism is a familiar trope in discussions of black musicians of his generation, less familiar is the way blacks who grew up in the Southern U.S. Listened to country music and often emulated radio artists. Bailey’s grandfather was a fiddler, and Bailey got his big break after white string band leader Dr.

Humphrey Bates recommended him to the producer of the WSM “Barn Dance” radio show, which became the Opry. Though these cross-cultural alliances were not necessarily typical of the industry a gradual cross-pollination took shape especially in the post-WWII era. Many of the musicians included on the set discuss their appreciation for the music and lyrics of country music, viewing it as a parallel to the blues. There are also important voices represented on the set, like Dobie Gray (1940-2011; famous for 1973’s “Drift Away”) and Bobby Hebb (1938-2010; who wrote the 1966 hit “Sunny”), who have defied genre rules throughout their careers and challenged conventional wisdom about the sound of black music.

Folk music is another genre with a strong black presence. The more recent success of Rhiannon Giddens and her band the Carolina Chocolate Drops is a great link to the past.

Before performers like Giddens, and Tracy Chapman, whose 1988 debut was an unexpected pop hit, there was the legendary Odetta (1930-2008). Classically trained as teenager Odetta performed in musical theater as a young adult before turning to folk music in the 1950s. After establishing herself on the nightclub circuit she became a prolific recording artist recording for the Tradition, Vanguard, Riverside and RCA Victor labels. Her recordings and performances, were complemented by her vigorous civil rights activism. Odetta was considered the premier folk singer of her generation and influenced performers like Joan Baez, Harry Belafonte, Bob Dylan, and Carly Simon.

Other black superstars of the 1950s who influenced folk performers include Harry Belafonte (1927-present) whose dynamic performances and popular recordings of folk music from Jamaica, Trinidad, Peru, Israel and other countries made him the first world music superstar. He was also integral to introducing U.S. Audiences to the South African singer and activist, Miriam Makeba (1932-2008), known as “Mama Africa”.

A gifted singer, composer, and actress, and a fierce anti-apartheid activist, Makeba began performing in the U.S. In 1959 and began a successful recording career on RCA in 1960. She committed her life to her music and her activism and performed until the very end of her life.

Just as the southern rural black experience is rarely discussed, beyond country blues and delta blues musicians, the presence of blacks in the chic, sophisticated world of New York cabarets, a thriving cultural space form the 1930s-1960s is also elided. Cabaret singing is an intimate style of singing performed by stately but highly distinctive, often idiosyncratic singers who frequently focus on the Great American Songbook and obscurities.

Well-known black singers like Pearl Bailey, Sammy Davis Jr., and Eartha Kitt have roots in cabaret. There are, however, are many others who never crossed over to mass audiences through TV or film. Classical music is another arena where the contributions of black musicians are often overlooked. In the vocal field female singers Marian Anderson (1897-1993), Leontyne Price (1927-present), Jessye Norman (1945-present), and Kathleen Battle (1948-present) are important figures with popular notoriety. Notable male voices include legendary actor, singer and activist Paul Robeson (1898-1976) and baritone Robert Todd Duncan (1903-98) who originated the role of Porgy in Porgy & Bess in 1935 as well as the role of Stephen Kumalo in Kurt Weill’s 1949 production Lost in the Stars.

Some more contemporary figures include baritone Jubilant Sykes, and more emergent male vocalists including Jamaican born baritone Rory Frankson, lyric tenor Lawrence Brownless, and tenor Issacach Savage. In the classical instrumental field there are many black musicians worth discovering such as Anthony McGill, principal clarinetist of the New York Philharmonic, as well as notable organizations dedicated to diversifying the field. For example, the Sphinx Organization’s focus on training and developing underrepresented young musicians has culminated in the renowned Sphinx Virtuosi comprised of Black and Latino musicians.

The website AfriClassical was also begun in 2000 to chronicle the history of people of African descent in classical music. Any legitimate effort to explore black history comprehensively requires exploring unheard and overlooked figures. The relevance of Black History Month lies in the ongoing opportunity to expand our understanding of the stories, experiences and achievements of blacks in America.

Music is an important dimension for the music itself, and the histories that inform its creation and reception. It is no coincidence that many of the musicians listed above, like Marian Anderson, Paul Robeson, Belafonte, Odetta and Makeba are as well known for their activism as their music. Theirs is a story worth exploring for the way it speaks to a larger richer story of the historical contours of blackness in America. Additional resources: AfriClassical website: 'Black Men Storm the Gates of Classical Opera': Mabel Mercer Foundation: 'Six African American Country Singers Who Changed Country Music': Sphinx Organization: COPYRIGHT © 2017 VINCENT L. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame’s annual December announcement of new inductees inevitably stirs strong reactions ranging from “It’s about time!” to “ Huh?” The 2017 class includes Joan Baez, Electric Light Orchestra (ELO), Journey, Pearl Jam, Tupac Shakur and Yes. Commenting on this list is almost pointless since it represents a pattern: The Hall of Fame is a long standing source of confusion. For example, despite the “Rock and Roll” genre distinction pop singers (e.g. Madonna) and rappers (e.g. Run DMC) have been inducted as performers. Given this loose approach to genre it’s surprising that more performers who straddle genres, like Willie Nelson, are not inducted. Since 1986 the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame has inducted new classes of performers, as well as non-performers, whose innovations and influences shaped in rock and roll, a genre that has existed since 1955.

At least this is what people think this mission represents the Hall’s aspiration. If you actually review the Hall of Fame’s stated criteria you learn that innovation is not necessarily its center. Here’s how the Hall works: Each year a nominating committee (whose composition and criteria are murky) selects the nominees and circulates ballots to 900 + historians, music industry personnel, and musicians, including all previous Hall inductees.

In 2012 this process was opened up to the general public whose ballot is reported weighed equally with the expert/insider ballot. The top five vote getters are inducted from these ballots and history is made. In addition to having 25 years of recording history, inductees must demonstrate, “unquestionable musical excellence and talent” and have significantly impacted the “development, evolution and preservation of rock & roll.” These are four very different criteria that may explain the diffuse, inconsistent and strangely ahistorical nature of the Hall. Excellence and talent are broad and highly subjective concepts, though they imply remarkable musical technique and skill.

Development and evolution speak to performances and/or recordings that have shifted the direction of rock and roll, and subgenres, significantly, which is an interesting challenge for a 60-year-old genre. Among these criteria preservation is the most concerning and conservative since it essentially rewards performers who replicate the rock and roll familiar. Delving into the Hall’s stated criteria negates the notion that the Hall is primarily interested in recognizing innovative musicians. Apparently musicians who are simply “excellent” and “talented” are eligible, and perhaps weighted equally with those who have helped the genre “evolve/develop” and/or those who are fastidious students (imitators?) of rock, thus preserving its essence.

The criteria above are relatively easy to apply to some of the Hall’s earliest inductees such as Chuck Berry, James Brown, the Everly Brothers and Elvis Presley. Post 1950s popular music really would sound quite different without the influence of these pioneers. Still many of the Hall’s choices continually raise questions about how far the criteria can be stretched. To return to my earlier note, how much innovation has actually occurred in 60s years, as opposed to imitation and repetition? Perhaps performers’ inductions should be labelled by the development, evolution and/or preservation criteria? For example, the British punk group the Sex Pistols were inducted in 2006. The Pistols were created by Malcolm McLaren to make more of a social statement than a musical statement evidenced by their lack of technical proficiency.

Though the group caused an uproar in Britain, and excited U.S. Music critics, they had little commercial impact in the U.S. And self-destructed quickly after two albums. Few would argue that they were musically excellent. They were musically and socially disruptive. And unquestionably influential to future punk bands in terms of attitude, style and tone.

Since they turned punk inside out (briefly) and shaped other groups the development and evolution criteria apply. (In true punk fashion, lead singer Johnny Rotten wrote to the Hall rejecting the induction and the ceremony referring to the genre and the hall as a “piss stain” compared to the band.

Comparatively, in 2015 Green Day, who were influenced by inductees like the Clash (2002), the Ramones (2003), and the Sex Pistols (2006), were inducted. Green Day is very enjoyable (to my ears), is probably the most commercially successful punk-oriented band ever, and has influenced younger groups like Sum 41.

But calling them innovative is a stretch. They’re a preservation group; they mirror the essential style of their punk and rock predecessors with more finesse and pop savvy. Reading further, the Hall’s website unpacks musical excellence noting that, “Such a descriptor includes (but isn't limited to) influence on other performers or genres; length and depth of career and catalog; stylistic innovations; or superior technique and skills.” Though slightly more detailed, it, too, juxtaposes elements that can easily contradict each other.

For example, the first rock oriented band to integrate a substantial horn section was Blood, Sweat, & Tears. Yet they are not in the Hall of Fame, but Chicago, who replicated B, S &T’s horn driven sound, was inducted in 2015. Chicago has a longer discography, and managed to have more hits—their top 40 radio reign spans from 1970-91 compared to 1969-71 for B, S, & T. But, if influence and innovation were most salient B, S &T would have been inducted before Chicago. In this instance Chicago’s record sales and endurance were deemed more important than their originality. The history issue is a particular inconsistency for the Hall.

To its credit the Hall does induct performers listed as Early Influences including jazz pioneer Louis Armstrong, honky tonk legend Hank Williams, and “Queen of the Blues” Dinah Washington. But some of rock and roll’s most direct musical influences, such as jump blues singer Ella Mae Morse and white 50s R&B singer Johnnie Ray, are strangely absent. Wanda Jackson, who debuted in the 1950s is the “Queen of Rockabilly,” is particularly odd omissions.

She was inducted in 2009 as an Early Influence, rather than as a performer, and decades after the male peers of her generation. Sexism also remains a sticky point for the Hall. Rock and Roll has long been viewed as a bastion of male privilege in lyrics, attitude and access. Female musicians have routinely shared horrific experiences of being demeaned, underestimated, and denied as artistic equals (and superiors!) to male musicians in the industry.

Sadly, the Hall tends to replicate these patterns. Among the 31 classes of inductees there have been 10 years without any female inductees, including 1986 and, most recently, 2016. Among the 34 female inclusive inductions 15 were for solo performers, 15 were awarded to groups with male and female members, and four were awarded to all-female singing groups. Comparatively, 84 solo male performers and 104 all male groups were inducted. Thus 15% of solo artists in the Hall are female and 85% are male. Among single sex groups 4% are all-female and 96% are all-male.

These huge disparities reflect the inherent gender bias of what several people, including musician Peter Wylie and writer Kelefah Sanneh, have termed as “rockism”: the presumption that rock music, understood narrowly, is automatically deemed superior to pop which typically includes genres with more female performers (e.g. Disco, girl groups). Anecdotally speaking some of the oversights are surprising.

Despite their impact on 1980s rock Pat Benatar and Tina Turner (solo) are strangely absent from the Hall, yet their relative male equivalent of the era, John Mellencamp is in. Male singer-songwriters like Billy Joel, Elton John, Cat Stevens, and James Taylor have been inducted, but Jackie DeShannon and Carly Simon are missing. Other names that come to mind include Joan Armatrading, Kate Bush, The Carpenters, Rosanne Cash, Whitney Houston, Rickie Lee Jones, Bette Midler, Maria Muldaur, Nina Simone, Phoebe Snow and Dionne Warwick. Some names for future Early Influences might include Odetta, Sister Rosetta Tharpe, as well as Morse.

I applaud the Hall for recognizing the ways many of the pioneering musicians who emerged in the mid-1950s created distinct new genres and sub-genres, and expanded on them. The gradual mainstreaming of R&B and country elements into the pop mainstream, the rise of youth cultures, and the ways post-1950s music has periodically articulated the sensibilities of members of the social and cultural underclass are important cultural achievements. Ones that have transcended the United States. But, in trying to take this music “seriously” the Hall has made regrettable procedural choices that continually taint its efforts including failing to define genre boundaries clearly, relying on ambiguous criteria, and operating from a teleological perspective that rock ‘n’ roll is something that inevitably evolves. The yardstick of time seems inadequate. How far does rock ‘n’ roll stretch?

Beyond post-punk/modern rock and hip-hop rock hybrid groups like Linkin Park what does rock innovation look like over the last 25 years? Hip-hop inspired New Jack Swing, Hip-Hop Soul, and the retro-futurist Neo-Soul genre, but, again, what other musical influences will enable R&B to grow into something fresh? Hip-Hop began as urban dance music but broadened its scope to include novelty songs, crossover pop-rap, rap-rock, political rap, gangsta rap, etc.

How many Public Enemies or Missy “Misdemeanor” Elliots are on the horizon? In its current form the Hall is more accurately understood as a Popular Music Hall of Fame that honors performers in a variety of popular genres who have achieved commercial success and a modicum of critical respect. This inevitably reflects the interests of the record labels and music industry executives who fund the Hall, as well as popular commercial tastes, rather than something as intangible as innovation. In other words, it’s a predictable entity that has recognized some great musicians, but rarely challenges conventional wisdom about who matters in pop music or offers alternate ways of thinking about music history. The Hall would be more impactful if it organized musicians more strategically. Based on the Hall’s current logic Buddy Holly, Darlene Love, Fleetwood Mac, The Clash, Madonna, and Yes are essentially equals who shaped and influenced Rock and Roll in some amorphous way.

Compare this to a system that identified and group performers more categorically. In the context of post-1955 music there are discernible pioneers (e.g.

Berry, Holly, Wanda Jackson, Little Richard, Presley) who established genres and sub-genres; musicians who expanded its formal vocabulary (e.g. Bob Dylan, The Beatles, Laura Nyro); and performers (e.g. Pat Benatar, Bruce Springsteen, Green Day) who reliably and competently extended established styles. These three areas theoretically prevent one from drawing false equivalencies because there’s an inherent connectedness and historicity to each.

This proposed approach also allows us to distinguish the depth of contributions among musicians. The pioneer category would always be a smaller category since few musicians have established actual genres, and the vocabulary category would only be slightly larger. The genre extension category is in some ways the most diffuse because it’s more about competence and endurance than innovation, but still has potential to recognize artists of substance. The Hall of Fame, and Museum, are well-intentioned but not quite realized endeavors. There are plenty of alternative spaces like the Experience Music Project, The Rock & Soul Museum, and The Stax Museum, as well as other Halls of Fame including the Blues Foundation’s Blues Hall of Fame and NEA Jazz Masters ceremony. But, the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, and Museum, are the most prominent sites of rock history. They remain subjects of criticism because people who love rock and roll want its best elements elevated.

The “official” nature of the Hall cements what many fans consider to be the elevation of the blandest and most commercially palatable aspects of rock. Further, the bureaucratic nature of both entities belies the rebellious spirit historically associated with rock and roll. Beyond this element, they represent an intriguing paradox: how do you publicly celebrate and historicize an artistic form that began diffusely as a rebellious secret?

COPYRIGHT © 2017 VINCENT L. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. Son Little by Son Little (Anti-, 2015): Son Little (Alan Livingston) is a Philadelphia based singer, writer and musician whose eponymous album (released in October 2015) is “beyond category,” to quote Duke Ellington.

Little synthesizes electric blues, gospel, and folk music, with elements of R&B and hip-hop into a highly personal sound. For people who find modern R&B too slick and traditional electric blues too old-fashioned he’s a revelation. More than an alternative he offers new possibilities. Most thrilling is “The River” a kind of erotic neo-gospel tune with a thrilling pulse and urgent vocal.

Sting Variations by Tierney Sutton Band (BFM Jazz, 2016): Tierney Sutton, and the Tierney Sutton Band, ranks easily among the most creative vocal jazz artists. Highly conceptual, she has shifted her focus from familiar pop and jazz standards toward transforming songs from folk music and pop music into jazz vehicles.

The Band’s latest coup translates songs by Sting, including his solo work and songs from The Police, into surprising interpretive pieces that reveal their own elasticity and the flexibility of what constitutes jazz. Their dynamic reharmonization of “If You Love Somebody Set Them Free,” mash-up of “Fragile” with the bossa nova classic “Gentle Rain”, and the lullaby-like approach on “Every Breath You Take” are stunning. An endearing triumph from an innovative group of musicians.

Tillery by Tillery (Tillerymusic, 2016): Rebecca Martin, Gretchen Parlato and Becca Stevens are progressive solo jazz vocalists who pool their collective talents together on Tillery. They harmonize very seamlessly on a diverse repertoire that includes an endearingly romantic take on Prince’s “Take Me With U” and The Jacksons’ “Push Me Away” and originals. The spacious arrangements, played by an acoustic band (including Martin on guitar, ukulele, and charango; Parlato on charango; Stevens on guitar, and all three on hand percussion; and Pete Ende on piano and keys; Mark Giuliana on drums, Larry Grenadier on bass), have a haunting folk quality. Their vocal blends are consistently tuneful and their individual vocal qualities shine. A genre buster, rather than a predictable vocal jazz album, it is beautifully enchanted.

The Mood That I’m In by Marlene Ver Planck (Audiophile, 2016): Marlene Ver Planck is an 83-year-old interpreter who first debuted in 1955 but the the clarity of her lovely voice and the astuteness of her interpretations is timeless. On this sumptuous ballads collection, the veteran interpreter, backed by a jazz trio with trombone, sax, and flute solos, sings to you with the perfect combination of melodicism, intimacy, wit and rhythm.

The title track is a lovely declaration of amorous desire, and the “It Started All Over Again/Second Time Around” medley is delightfully autumnal. Whether you call it cabaret, jazz or a combination, it’s a masterpiece of adult sensuality.

Harlem on My Mind by Catherine Russell (Jazz Village, 2016): Catherine Russell is the best fuser of classic blues and swing jazz sensibilities in vocal jazz. Her latest Harlem on My Mind focuses on songs from or in the spirit of the Golden Age of Harlem Jazz. As always she is a swinging interpreter who emphasizes melody and lyrics with acute rhythmic finesse. She balances familiar tunes like a breezy horn spoked “I Can’t Believe You in Love with Me” and a balmy “The Very Thought of You”, with cheeky tunes like “You’ve Got the Right key but the Wrong Keyhole” a fun Louis Armstrong number she milks perfectly. Russell also brings fresh perspective to solid but lesser-known songs like “Blue Turning Grey Over You.” Like Ethel Waters and Maxine Sullivan she is a quietly confident interpreter who is one with her material and band, and performs with a masterful yet disarming ease. Take Me to the Alley by Gregory Porter (Blue Note, 2016): Porter continues to be the deepest soul brother in jazz. Though he is an excellent interpreter, he is at his best as a composer of songs that allow him to tell his story.

Take Me to the Alley he uses his commanding yet sweet baritone to sing about relationships (“Insanity,” “Don’t Be a Fool”), social values (“French African Queen”) and spirituality (the title track) seamlessly and sensually. REISSUES: Live at Rosy’s by Sarah Vaughan (Resonance Records, 2016): In March Resonance Records issued Sarah Vaughan’s unreleased 1978 concert Live at Rosy’s recorded with her trio Paul Schroeder (piano), Walter Booker (bass) and Jimmy Cobb (drums) at the New Orleans club. In addition to singing signatures like “Send in the Clowns” and “Poor Butterfly” she surprises with a playful version of Ella Fitzgerald’s “A-Tisket A-Tasket,” a lovely rendition of the ‘70s standard “Everything Must Change,” a swinging “A Lot of Livin to Do” (from Bye Bye Birdie) and hilarious patter. 34 years into her career her she has a slightly raspy patina but her falsetto flourishes and rhythmic instincts are as fresh as ever.

The Complete Trio Collection by Trio (Emmylou Harris, Dolly Parton, Linda Ronstadt) (Warner Brothers/Asylum/Rhino, 2016): In 1987 country neo-traditionalist Harris, country legend Parton, and eclectic pop/rock star Ronstadt released their passion project Trio featuring three-part harmony interpretations of songs as disparate as Jimmie Rodgers’ “Hobo’s Meditation,” the 1950s rock and roll hit “To Know Him is to Love Him,” and Linda Thompson’s “Telling Me Lies.” Each was unified by rotating lead vocal duties and traditional acoustic string backing with limited drums. The result was an acclaimed and popular Grammy winning album that sounded more like it came from the 19th century than the late’80s. They followed it up in 1999, with Trio II, featuring songs from the Carter Family, Dolly Parton, and Neil Young, among others. Rhino Records has remastered and reissued them together with a third disc called Unreleased and Alternate Takes.

The original 1987 and 1999 albums are excellent introductions to the interplay of bluegrass, folk, and country music. The third disc is a revelation: Their versions of the 1880 hymn “Soft and Tenderly” and Pops Staples’s “You Don’t Knock” are powerful country-gospel. In addition to these gems, and alternate takes, the sets collect previous collaborations in one place including “Even Cowgirls Get the Blues” and “Mr. Sandman.” The liner notes are informative and conversational, and the remastering is excellent. Re-listening to these tunes and the rarer material points to a time in country when more artists felt compelled to take risks.

Most Notable Music on TV: As I discussed in August’s blog (“The other great musical of 2016”) the CW’s acclaimed musical sitcom Crazy Ex-Girlfriend is one of the medium’s most innovative programs. The show’s creative team brilliantly translates contemporary narrative sensibilities, including irony and metacommentary, into a compelling form combining with the verve of Broadway with the accessibility of pop culture. The show’s second season premiered in October 2016 and is even bolder, brasher and truer.

I am not alone in my praise: the show has been nominated for multiple industry awards and won two Emmys (for camera editing and choreography), Critic’s Choice, Golden Globe and Television Critics Association (TCA) awards for lead actress Rachel Bloom, and a Gotham Award for Breakthrough Series-Long Form. In Soul Serenade: Rhythm, Blues and Coming of Age Through Vinyl (Beacon Press, 2016) music critic Rashod Ollison artfully details the solace and meaning of soul music and gospel provided for him during a difficult childhood in Arkansas. His father lovingly introduced him to the pleasures of classic soul but left a void by abandoning him, his mother and his two sisters abruptly. These trying circumstances increased pressure on his mother, who struggled financially and emotionally, and had to constantly move the family around. Ollison also contended with homophobic bullying and social isolation. Fortunately, his love of literature and music sustained him, helping him gain clarity about his family, his community, and himself.

Legendary singer Carly Simon grew up in a privileged East Coast family surrounded by parents, uncles, siblings, and friends whose confidence and expressiveness dwarfed the shy Simon who had a was physically awkward and had a lisp. During dinner her mother suggests she sing to overcome her lisp, and as detailed in Boys in the Trees: A Memoir (Flatiron Books, 2015) an emergent musician was awoken. Rather than reflecting on her whole career Simon tells a suppler story. She outlines her family roots, describes her gradual breakthrough in the folk and rock music scene, and reflects on her complex marriage to ex-husband James Taylor, ending her story around 1983. The candor and vulnerability of her best compositions defines her literary approach as well. BEYOND MUSIC media favorites: Non-Fiction: Clara Bingham’s Witness to the Revolution: Radicals, Resisters, Vets, Hippies, and the Year American Lost its Mind and Found its Soul (Random House, 2016) is an insightful, meticulously researched, and tightly organized oral history of the 1969-70 period.

It easily ranks among the more essential chronicles of a period when progressive movements transformed the nation culturally but struggled to convince a broad swath of culture progressive politics. Bingham’s interviews with a range of first hand participants from the antiwar, black power, women’s rights, and counterculture movements, including actors Peter Coyote and Jane Fonda, activists William Ayers, Daniel Ellsberg, Ericka Huggins and musicians like Stephen Stills, as well as photojournalists and former government agents present a complex and comprehensive view of the sociopolitical magnitude of this pivotal year. Essay collection: Acclaimed novelist ( Salvage the Bones, Where the Line Bleeds) and memoirist ( Men We Reaped: A Memoir) Jesmyn Ward, taking inspiration from James Baldwin’s seminal The Fire Next Time, gathers some of America’s finest poets, essayists, memoirists and scholars to address race in the 21st century on in the wide ranging collection The Fire This Time: A New Generation Speaks about Race. Beyond the diversity of genres itself lies the joyful eclecticism of perspectives assembled.

Highlights include Kiese Laymon’s loving depiction of his Grandmamma and the music of OutKast; Emily Raboteau’s visual essay on urban campaigns to increase civic awareness; Kevin Young’s hilariously acerbic takedown of faux-black Rachel Dolezal; and Edwidge Danticat’s “Message to My Daughter,” not to mention Ward’s reflection on the complexity of her DNA. Ward has assembled is a rich and colorful symphony of voices with great potential to transcend the era.

Film In Moonlight, a spacious, lyrical meditation on identity, director and screenwriter Barry Jenkins presents one of the most complex and breathtaking portraits of African American male subjectivity ever filmed. The narrative vocabulary of American films has historically confined black men to a narrow range of stereotypical roles. By comparison, Moonlight provides a refreshingly intimate portrait of black malehood through focusing on the experiences of Chiron a young man who is navigating a complex mix of race, class, and gender social forces alongside other younger and older men in his community. Jenkins, cinematographer James Laxton, and composer Nicholas Britell employ a rich assortment of cinematic visual and aural techniques to tell a lean but purposeful story. The film is anchored by stellar performances from a gifted trio of actors, Alex Hibbert, Ashton Sanders and Trevante Rhodes who play Chiron at different ages, as well as excellent supporting performances by Mahershala Ali, Naomie Harris, Janelle Monae, and Andre Holland.

Songs for Our Now: A playlist for survival and centeredness In the mid-Atlantic and Northeast, where I’ve lived most of my adult life, November is always a transitional month. At times it even inspires a kind of cyclical mourning. As the leaves fall, the temperatures drop, and the landscape’s colors morph from vibrant postcards into barren withered browns we, too, shift in posture and color.

In the present moment many Americans are searching for the most resonant emotional chords. Navigating the changing scenery also means being enveloped by the swirl of emotional uncertainty. We are simultaneously seeking solace and inspiration to cosset us from acute feelings of anger, betrayal, sadness, and ambivalence. Music is, naturally, an almost undefined, intangible space of reckoning.

Certain melodies, words, and tones can cohere into irresistible musical forms that move us unexpectedly. When the right pitch catches us we feel heard; it grounds us and we are poised for new vistas.

In this spirit I offer an anthology of songs that sings to us in this particular moment. I was inspired by food writer extraordinaire Ruth Reichl’s My Kitchen Year: 136 Recipes that Saved My Life, a generous collection of interwoven stories and recipes documenting losses in her life that gave her life meaning. Rather than seeking music that merely enrages or soothes, I have chosen music representing a vast palette of emotions. “O’ Death” (sung by Marion Williams): For creating room to moan, cry, grieve, and lament. Several years ago I made a playlist called A Gay Old Time—a tongue-in-cheek reference to its mix of jubilant pop tunes from openly gay (e.g. Lang, Pet Shop Boys, George Michael) and iconically gay (e.g. Diana Ross, Barbra Streisand) artists.

It’s the kind of CD I wanted to play in the car or the office, or at home that might lead a casual listener to say “Those songs are so gay!” in a jocular appreciative manner. I made the playlist as a celebration and nod to the resonance of singers as disparate as Judy Garland and ‘80s British pop group The Communards to multiple generations of LGBTQ listeners. In the early 2000s when I was working on my dissertation on gay and lesbian musicians I read Christopher Nealon’s fantastic book Foundlings which explores gay and lesbian cultural identity before Stonewall and the politicization of LGBTQ identity. A central thread of his argument is the role culture played in bonding queer people before there was a formal movement. In other words the way a man dressed, the language he used, the neighborhoods he socialized in and, most centrally, the culture he consumed signified to other man that he was “family” before people formally “came out” and identified using terms like gay, lesbian, transgender, etc.

Though I was born seven years after Stonewall this relates to my own story in many ways. When I was in kindergarten I knew I was gay, though at the time people used euphemisms that suggested was an identity necessitating discretion. Looking back this moment of personal awareness was less a point of pride or shame than a moment of recognition. Like many kids I suffered the indignities of bullying and teasing for being “different” for part of my childhood and adolescence from peers, and tacitly from the mainstream society. Rather than consulting with friends and family, who did not relate and would not have been helpful, or seeing a therapist I went to college. There, for the first time in my life, I was surrounded by a critical mass of people who were open in their intimate identities and secure in themselves and best of all, accepted. One of the ways I bonded with my queer peers was via taste.

At the time thumping club music suing by exuberant divas was “gay” as was music from previous generations including disco, cabaret, and torch songs by classic divas like Judy, Bette, Lena, and Liza, among others. Alongside these female icons who were lionized by generations of gay men previously, there were male performers like Elton John, George Michael, Pet Shop Boys, whose were gay and whose music resonated on a variety of levels for the mainstream and for queer men. Erasure, Jimmy Somerville, Freddy Mercury and Queen, and Sylvester were among the other men who fit this even if I didn’t listen to them a great deal. The notion of “gay music” is limiting in many respects and overlooks the broad appeal of these artists, but it would be a mistake to discount the ways the music referenced above resonated and still resonates for many queer people for reasons beyond identity politics. For me some of the appeal of the great divas and some of the more expressive male vocalist like Mercury is their willingness to break through the box of male emotional suppression. Their art gives listeners permission to experience their emotional lives in an expressive form uninhibited by social limitations.

Through them your sense of being disrupts gender norms by offering different expressive possibilities. I believe gender is very much a social construct of how to be (as do many gender theorists!) and even the most conventional gender normative straight man desires to transcend expectations and delve into more vulnerable and communications forms of expression than they are allowed. Music is a distinct texture that permits these performances. Many men are scared by the idea of admitting they like music marked as “gay” (e.g. Dance music, torchy songs) but secretly find immense freedom and pleasure in it because they get to inhabit themselves differently. When I was writing my dissertation, which addresses gay and lesbian musicians who began their career prior to gay liberation I explored that life and careers of female musicians like Laura Nyro and Dusty Springfield, and the history of performers associated with the “women’s music circuit like Margie Adams, Cris Williamson, and Holly Near, among others.

This also involved exploring the complex relationship younger generations of female musicians have to lesbian feminist politics and the gender politics of the genre which was self-contained, independent and aspired to employ female identified musicians, engineers, promoters, distributors, record label heads, and other personnel. Many younger women found the music lacking in fun and the politics too rigid and separatist, especially the exclusion of men from the recording process and transwomen from women’s music festivals. These are understandable critiques though we must always look back contextually.

Concepts of safety from patriarchy and violence have evolved for many women, and many women who identified with second wave and lesbian feminism have grown more comfortable with the idea that male identified people can be supportive allies. Few social movements endure without evolving and the women of the circuit deserve this critical consideration. Minimally we should appreciate the women’s music circuit as a pioneer of the Do-it-Yourself (DIY) aesthetic and appreciate the space they were trying to create—one that valued women as musical artists before this was fashionable in the mainstream, as well as recognized their unique social struggles. I remember purchasing Williamson’s beautiful 1975 singer-songwriter album The Changer and the Changed, a classic of women’s music, and thinking it if weren’t for sexism and homophobia she would have been as big commercially as many of her singer-songwriter peers in the ‘70s. The Wanted Heart Vacancy Mp3 Download Free on this page. Regardless she is “ours” in the sense that she spoke to who many women of the era, and even as a queer man I relate easily to her words and melodies.

Of course queer people listen to more than disco, folk music, torch songs, or showtunes. The world is a big place that belongs to queer people as much as anyone and queer taste is eclectic.

It’s only slightly surprising that there are openly gay country singers like Brandi Carlile, Billy Gilman, Steve Grand, Ty Hendon and Chely Wright. Mainstream culture informs queer lives and the mainstream has been queered. You don’t have to be queer to hear Williamson just open. As a culture we have inched forward in recognizing the fluidity of gender and gradually made may core social institutions more welcoming and inclusive.

Though homophobia and genderphobia sadly manifest themselves in many forms on a regular basis for many people they have become less socially acceptable in unexpected places like the military, professional athletics and civil society. Like many of my sistren and brethren I worry that some of the intracultural touchstones that made queerness a poignant open secret for many of us have lost their luster. Rather than relegating them to some less enlightened past I prefer we think of them as part of a cultural continuum. Even though the world changed after Stonewall there was a lot of possibility, but public and clandestine, that occurred before the birth of a formal “named” movement and the threat of exclusion still looms.

Though singers like Tyler Glenn, Frank Ocean, Sam Smith, and Chely Wright are “out” now they were not at the beginning of their careers. This is important because it’s a sign that we are not in a post-gay world. Identity still matters, and fears of not being accepted or even of being pigeonholed and narrowcast are surely part of their process and that of other public queer figures. Not to mention the pressure of being viewed as an icon or role model, even if they do not feel confident in their identities or conversant about LGBTQ history and politics. This summer I put the finishing touches on my forthcoming book Rocking the Closet: Queer Male Musicians and the Power of the Closet. I conclude the study, which focuses on men from the ‘50s, including Liberace, Johnnie Ray, Little Richard and Johnny Mathis, by interrogating the contemporary assumption that they were closet cases who had to be ambiguous and that today’s musicians are more liberated. The times change but the pressures to confirm to others’ ideas about who and how we’re supposed to behave endures.

Their journeys differ than those of Glenn or Ocean, but each case raises questions about how being different can be a source of both intrigue for audiences and frustration for musicians. My A Gay Old Time playlist still makes me smile (and dance!) because it’s an inside joke and a public statement, not to mention a really fun listening experience. What I also enjoy about it is that it, and what it represents, feels as alive today as it did many years ago. When these songs play queer people recognize themselves, many straight people relate to the joy within, and maybe everybody dances in parallel or together.

No one is giving up who they are but understanding themselves more complexly. COPYRIGHT © 2016 VINCENT L. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.