Music serves many purposes for people on this planet. It's fun. It can be an escape. It can be soothing and even nostalgic. But for some it carries a deeper meaning, a deeper purpose. In this realm lies the art of Abbey Lincoln. At age 73, she is one of the last of the great jazz singers of her generation. Lest anyone get the wrong idea, now is not the time for considering her epitaph. This artist is still thinking, still expressing, still vital, still producing.
Lincoln is in a sense a blithe spirit, and yet concerned about the world around her. She sees the problems in society and in the world of art and music, yet avoids complaining or blaming. Like her one idol, Billie Holiday, she tells it like it is. Very often she does it in her own words, with her own poetry expressing her inner feelings and her outer attitudes. The evidence comes forth again on Lincoln's 10th CD for Verve records, It's Me
. Like her other Verve discs, it's heavily laden with original songs, put across in her direct, musical-yet-theatrical style that has become one of the most poignantly expressive voices in jazz music especially since her 1990 signing with Verve.
Abbey is an artist, first and foremost. Secure, content, inquisitive. She is sassy and direct in her commentary and insightful. She can be brash and charming at the same time, chastising what society and the music industry have done to black music and artists, but at the same time maintaining a whimsical stance when looking at life and the big picture of it all. She's both spirited and spiritual.
Lincoln's recorded works, especially on Verve (most notably 1991's You Gotta Pay the Band
, with Stan Getz, an all-time classic, and When There is Love
the sublime duet project with Hank Jones, 1992) are universally stellar. She sees her work as higher art, not as frivolous notes to help people pass the time.
"Even though I do not know anything, like everybody on this planet, because they forget everything," she says in her distinctive thoughtful, yet playful, tone. "The human being possesses the art of music all over the world. There's no such thing as people without music. It's more than the birds, because the birds don't write it down. Sometimes they improvise, and sometimes they don't. But the human being is maybe designed on a musical pattern. I don't know. But I know we have music and the people in Africa were definitely given it, and that's why people who are musicians can become athletes and all kind of things, because it's good for your health. It cleanses the air that you breathe and it creates other expressions, to dance and sing and play instruments and get it off!"
Add a dash of realism, however. On the downside, "it has to be for money. That's the thing. It's not our fault. This is what it is. Between us and the god of music is the god of money," says Abbey with a knowing laugh. "The god of money has got us up against the wall." It's Me
begins with an elegant version of "Skylark," done in her behind-the-beat style; expressive and clear and resounding. But that's the last of the standards. There are Abbey originals, as well as a song by her late brother, Robert Wooldridge, who she said was a "wonderful singer" but chose instead to become a lawyer, and later a judge. Also, it is the first label recording with Lincoln and an orchestra. Arrangements by Laurent Cugny and Alan Broadbent augment seven tracks.
"I didn't really know what it was until it was done and I was listening to it," she says of the new CD. "It's really about the music. A tribute to the music they call jazz the best thing that ever happened to me in my life."
"They Call It Jazz" is an open homage to the art form; a ballad given a heartfelt rendering. "Runnin' Wild" is more up-tempo, though Abbey delightfully strolls effortlessly, almost conversationally, despite the quicker pace. "Can You Dig It" offers uplifting advice for those who may be caught up in a crazy world. Masterful musicians like Kenny Barron, Ray Drummond and Jaz Sawyer offer superb support throughout and help Lincoln get her message out.
"I let it come," she says of her compositional method. "But what it mostly is, usually, is about something that I feel, that I realize and it's what I share. It's like having therapy. I can talk about these things and then I can throw it away. Then I'm not burdened with what I'm witnessing. It can be burdensome, because this is really weird, the world that we've been delivered to. So I sing about it. It makes it possible for me to hang in there [laughter]. Otherwise, I'd be lying on the couch, crazy as a loon."