Underwhelming Understatement: A Plea for Persona in Jazz Vocals

Vincent Stephens

Opinion/Editorial since 2004

Vincent Stephens has written about music for Popular Music and Popular Music & Society, and completed a Ph.D in American Studies in May 2005 from the University of Maryland, College Park.

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Published: June 26, 2004

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Cole, whom the reviewer mostly damns with faint praise, is unusual being an uptown R&B singer with credible jazz chops. She can croon, swing and scat and though she seems less obviously a “musician” because she sings rather than plays and because she is so associated with R&B, she brings something extra. If Barber is an atypical jazz singer, Cole is no pop simpleton. Even if her records are prone to overkill as the reviewer claims she adds a touch of R&B sass and showbiz glamour to her records unashamedly embracing her status as a real singer and a genuine entertainer. Again, she is not for every taste but she invokes passion.

Controversy should hardly be criteria for establishing personality, but it is undeniable that headstrong iconoclasts like Barber and giddy entertainers like Cole tend to challenge listeners and expand the genre more than performers content to merely fall into a role. Norah Jones is the most prominent “subtle-ist” and she has inherited the role of “Crooner Jr.” Unlike junior crooners Michael Bublè and Peter Cincotti, who obviously conform to the Sinatra archetype, there is no clear blueprint for Jones whose sales and coverage are stupefying for a jazz-associated singer on a jazz label. She’s too young, folky and reliant on modern songs to be a Krall wannabe but too conservative to be confused with adventurous up-and-comers like Rachelle Ferrell. Her records have the subdued, folk minimalist ambiance of Cassandra Wilson but lack Wilson’s blues feeling. Synthesizing a variety of textures and conventions from jazz, pop, and folk and projecting an “old soul” aura in her sound and image she is as confusing as she is talented. Her indifference to commit makes her compelling in such a niche-oriented world but her place is in flux because unlike Wilson or Krall she seems indifferent in relation to jazz. Neither jazzchanteuse, pop tart or a crunchy folkie Norah often stands for No-Thing, a comfortable but increasingly soggy place given the lack of buzz around her sophomore album. Her next album may be her most crucial statement of commitment.

Both Krall and Jones sing pleasant material in hushed tones and play solid, even soulful piano but their subtlety cannot mask their emotional vapidity. Pleasant, hushed and solid could just as easily describe any experience but jazz is not just any genre. Most notable jazz singers have signature characteristics signifying something vivid and humane. Diane Schuur is a fervent firecracker with a tender side, Dee Dee Bridgewater abounds in sexual heat and dramatic energy, Dianne Reeves sings with warmth, wisdom and stunning virtuosity, etc. There is some element of risk, something at stake that seems to motivate these singers beyond a display of chops or good taste. Less obvious but no less passionate are Shirley Horn’s measured drama, Abbey Lincoln’s aesthetic of inspiration, Jimmy Scott’s pathos, and Kurt Elling’s daring. These singers are not afraid to make a “mistake” or wrinkle a few feathers; they seemed most focused on forwarding their art. Without humor, sex, charm, heat, warmth, adventure, subtlety and understatement don’t leave one with very much substance. It is premature to write off the “subtle-ists,” a class that also includes the Jo Stafford-esque Jane Monheit. But they should start seeking an identity, lest they veer into a space where only the devoted coterie of folks committed to the parenthetically understated become their cult.