Remembering Roz Corral: Doyenne Of The New York Jazz Vocal Scene

The New York jazz community lost a beloved member with the passing of vocalist Roz Corral, who died Tuesday, September 27, at Lenox Hill Hospital in New York City. Originally from Marin County, CA, Roz moved to New York as a young adult, with plans to be a professional dancer. Instead, she found herself singing at open mic nights, dabbling in cabaret, and eventually growing more serious about singing jazz, studying at Barry Harris's Jazz Cultural Theater.

It wasn't long before Roz had established herself as a singer with a mellow instrument, an ear for storytelling, a real feel for swing, and great taste in repertoire, playing with a who's who of the New York jazz cats. She appeared at Birdland, Mezzrow, the Jazz Standard, Flushing Town Hall, Jazz at Kitano, Sweet Rhythm, and more. She was a regular at the 55 Bar for many years, and she developed the popular North Square Lounge Jazz Brunch at the Washington Square Hotel, playing there about twice a month and booking other singers, for some 20 years.

Surprisingly, for such a talent, she made only one CD, Telling Tales (Blujazz, 2005), with Bruce Barth (who co-produced), Larry Grenadier, Jeff Ballard, John Hart, Steve Wilson, and Steve Davis. The album garnered her many accolades. "With a voice as cozy as a goose-down duvet and as clear and sparkling as spring water, Roz Corral is that rare sort of jazz singer who makes it all seem deceptively easy. ... Given the impeccable quality of her musicianship, it is no wonder Corral was able to corral a bounty of top players for her recording debut," Christopher Loudon wrote in JazzTimes. Paul Lewis praised the album in AllAboutJazz as "an impeccable fusion of a seasoned, confident voice, singing well written, enjoyable tunes with a swingin' modernist combo." In his liner notes, Neil Tesser praised Roz's ability to "find the heart of a song's message as contained in the lyrics and then convey that message musically in a timbre adult, throaty, and knowing." Roz was in the process of planning a second recording but, sadly, ran out of time.

And it wasn't just the critics who got her. She was beloved of her peers, including Mark Murphy, who admired how she could always go "to the heart of the song," Bruce Barth, who referred to her freedom of rhythm and phrasing as "the very essence of jazz singing," and Fred Hersch, who said, "Roz Corral has wonderful pitch, a velvet tone, world class diction, and great sense of swing. But more importantly, she really connects to everything she sings and makes it come alive and sound new. In the day of young wanna-be jazz singers, Roz Corral is the real deal."

Below, a number of Roz's friends and colleagues share their memories and tributes.
A tribute concert will be held at the North Square jazz brunch on Sunday, October 23rd, featuring longtime friends and associates of Roz. Click here for details.

Roni Ben-Hur

To speak of Roz is to speak of grace and truth, and the beautiful sound of her voice always reflected it when she sang.

I met Roz the first time in 1986, at Barry Harris's temple of jazz, known as the Jazz Cultural Theater, and we've been inseparable since. Whenever I hear her sing, I hear a story that must be told, and a love that must be shared. Somehow, all the distractions of life will fade away, and the beauty she'll project will be all that matters.

All of us who experienced it are blessed forever.

Amy Begel

Roz was my best friend. I believe I was hers. We met nearly 35 years ago at Barry Harris's Jazz Cultural Theatre. I first "fell" for Roz when I heard her sing. I had never experienced anything like it. Her phrasing, her ease, her storytelling, her voice, all of it made me feel good, even when the song was sad. I remember once, after she finished a tune, Barry paused, looked at our class, and said "See how she commands the space." I thought that was a great way to put it. She commands the space.

Roz knew how much I appreciated her, and this was the beginning of our bond. We were in very different places musically, since I was just learning how to croak out a tune. But we shared a sensibility, musically and otherwise, that formed the basis for our deep connection. Roz was my sister. Over the many years we shared our joys, our struggles, we went through the births and deaths that punctuated our lives. Roz was a part of almost every holiday at our house, and all of our friends recognized her as a member of our family. We knew each other's foibles. We accepted each other. We were loyal.

During these last five years Roz showed the best of her character. She rose to the occasion, and beyond. Despite many days of discomfort, not just at the end but during those five years, I rarely glimpsed any self-pity or even much anger. She would complain, justifiably, when some new health challenge arose, but then she dug in and kept going. Roz had a remarkable capacity for enjoyment which only grew after she became sick. She reveled in the little things: The change of seasons, a beautiful beach, a great meal, the coming and going of of all the children in her life, including her nieces and nephews, and her friends' children, including my son. Roz was interested in people, and in life. She was generous, musically and personally.

To say that I will miss her is an understatement. I'm not quite sure how I will carry on with the rituals that we shared, without my friend by my side. Other members of our "family" include Roni Ben-Hur and Bruce Barth. They were Roz's brothers. Roz and I used to go to their gigs together, and we enjoyed the yearly Jewish holidays at Roni's house. I'm not sure how I will do any of this without her. Actually, I won't really be without her. She will be with me, her beautiful, expansive spirit, cheering everyone on, and, of course, thoroughly enjoying the music.

Linda Ciofalo

Roz Corral left us all the richer. The New York City jazz family lost a great, enigmatic singer. Roz understood that songs are the lifeblood of singers and she had an arsenal of them. Her voice was warmly deep with a lilting timbre and a deliciously comforting sound. She stood apart from the pack. Roz was a singer's singer. Part of her gift was digging deep into the songbooks to find repertoire that strayed from the beaten path. Sophisticated, cool, and a natural story teller, she charmingly delivered the goods. She was never boring.

I had first heard of Roz through Cobi Narita, and invited her to sit in on one of my gigs at the Garage Restaurant in 2001. It was the first time I met her and heard her sing. I thought oh yeah here's the real deal...she knocked me out.

I got to see her perform at many venues in New York including The Jazz Standard, Birdland, 55 Bar, Mezzrow, and so many others. She always had a variety of great tunes, the best musicians, and enthusiastic audiences. She poured her heart into every song cleverly playing with the lyrics and engaging her band on a musical journey. They were great times! Roz sang her last performance fittingly at North Square, her long-running gig in the West Village.

Roz generously supported other singers and created a home base for us when she began booking the jazz brunch at North Square Lounge. She nurtured a lot of the singers and gave excellent advice and critiques. We called her Mama Roz! What a wonderful West Village Sunday scene she created. Mark Murphy used to stay in the Washington Square Hotel and often went downstairs to the lounge to see Roz perform. He loved her. She earned the respect of the jazz community.

We were part of the Mark Murphy-Sheila Jordan gang of singers, got to be good friends, and enjoyed many vivacious conversations that we referred to as "The Report." We spoke of music, family, recipes, culture, politics, religion, our past, our future, and hot-topic girl talk. I knew Roz for more than 20 years and we spent a lot of time together. She loved my family, especially my kids. She adored her nieces and nephews and her California camping trips. We were planning to go down south to visit Johnny Mercer territory but there wasn't enough time. I'm glad she got to do a lot of the things she planned and lived her best possible life. She could be snarky and very funny. She was grace under pressure and rose to the occasion when she battled for her life. My stoic friend, you earned your rest, although it came too soon for everyone you're leaving behind. Roz was a natural musician who hummed and sang practically all the time, whether it was in the kitchen while she cooked, or walking down the street—she was a songbird who just loved to sing! It was such a pretty voice, so joyful, and I'm sure going to miss it. We all are.

Val Hawk

I met Roz in the '80s at the Barry Harris Jazz Cultural Theater. She was new in town and eager to learn, and what a wonderful start that was. I had a little gig playing electric bass & singing with guitarist Steve Berger at a cute club in Chelsea called Rick's Lounge. Roz became a regular and, as time passed, a close friend, attending my parties as well as my gigs. In short time, I was doing the same as her friend and fan. She worked hard to build her chops, her knowledge, and her impressively eclectic repertoire, and in so doing, became a wonderful jazz singer and entertainer. She was always supportive of my songwriting and when I finished a few new tunes, she provided the venue in which to present them. I know that she offered this same support and encouragement to many others who I know are as grateful as I am.

She will always have a place in my heart and will be missed.

Bruce Barth

Roz was one of my first and closest New York friends. When I moved to the city in the late '80s, she had already been living here for several years. I felt that I had met the ultimate New Yorker, or at least who the ultimate New Yorker may have been back then: hip, worldly, insightful, no-nonsense, a lover of all the arts, and with a unique way of being in the world.

And her singing captivated me. This was early in her singing days, but she had already lived a lot in her forty years up to that point. She knew how to tell a story, and that story always rang true to me. On ballads, her voice had a plaintive sound that could break your heart. And her swingers were life-affirming, knowing, joyful, and hip.  Roz had a great ear for repertoire, often finding unique tunes. And her phrasing knocked me out—she had a great time feel, her phrasing was incredibly relaxed and spontaneous. I often felt that Roz was dispensing wisdom every time she sang. This felt to me like the essence of New York jazz singing.

I had the honor and pleasure of co-producing and arranging the music for Roz's 2005 CD, Telling Tales, on the Blujazz label. The recording featured many of Roz's friends and colleagues, including Steve Wilson on alto and clarinet, Steve Davis on trombone, and John Hart on guitar. Rounding out the ensemble were Larry Grenadier on bass, Jeff Ballard on drums, and myself on piano. I remember the joyful two days in the studio, with Roz excited about singing with these stellar musicians, and with a three-part "front line."

During the last couple years, guitarist Roni Ben-Hur and I had been meeting with Roz planning to make another recording, which Roz viewed as one for posterity. Unfortunately, that session never came about. But I'm grateful that we have Telling Tales, and the memory of many great live performances.

Roz bore her health burdens with incredible courage and grace, always maintaining her sense of humor. She was loyal to her friends, and gave so much to our musical community. I know that she will be missed by many, and her personal and musical legacy will live on.

Freddie Bryant

Roz was one of those singers who impressed upon me the importance of lyrics and story in the presentation of musical performances. This is a concept that is held dearly by many people, yet taken for granted as a cliché and sometimes forgotten. It was not a foreign concept to me, having grown up the child of an opera singer/vocal teacher (mother) and pianist/accompanist/vocal coach (father). The funny thing was, I only understood one of the seven languages in which my mother sang, yet the meaning and feeling came to me through other means—my father's translations, and the otherworldly, deep emotion that transcends words. I remember this feeling as a six year old, and in the following decade as a page turner for them on countless stages.

I mention this because Roz brought me back to this state of being, where music and words combine to make a result greater than the sum of its parts. I fell in love with instrumental music and with poetry, and when Roz sang it was more than melody and more than poetry.

I've written hundreds of musical pieces, some with spoken poetry and also programmatic music with stories but without words. But I had never written a song. I recently wrote my first songs, and was so looking forward to presenting these to her. She was in my mind as a vocal guru I wanted to please. I wanted to sing for her, finally, after all these years of her singing "for me." Every time she sang it was like a gift to whoever was lucky to be in her presence. I didn't get the chance to perform these songs for her. But I remember countless times she would be in the audience as I played; she was such a supportive soul. I believe she felt the music in the same way I did when I was a child listening to my mother, on a plane intimately connected with lyrics, yet also beyond that sphere into emotions, feelings, and the heart. Words or not, into the honesty of the soul.

Thank you, Roz, for reminding us of this realm. You did so as you walked this earth and will continue to do so as you keep us company whenever we make music.

Andrea Wolper

II can't remember meeting Roz. It must've been in the mid-'90s, when I was making my way onto the New York City jazz scene. Roz was such a presence, a personage, it would have been almost impossible not to meet her. Everybody knew Roz!

Our friendship developed through the years, and now, when I think of her, I think of the joy she radiated when singing; how she kept an eye out for the up-and-coming singers, championing those who impressed her; her killer guacamole; how she maintained loving relationships with her west coast family and created an equally-loving east coast family-of-friends; our little girl gang get-togethers; her famous candor: Roz Corral did not pull her punches. She could be tough, but she was also highly sensitive. And, oh, there could be skirmishes, and when she got mad there wasn't anything to do but wait for her to let it go and start calling you "my sweet" again.

Most artists who make this city home sacrifice a little or a lot for this life. So, yes, there were struggles, disappointments, and I'm not sure she ever realized how admired she was. But I do believe Roz created the life she was made for: the New York City jazz life. There simply was no other.

About her singing: That she was a powerful storyteller is a given. She could swing, she could express a ballad, she communicated, she was fully herself at the mic. This past August 14th, I went to hear her at North Square. I'd heard her so many times through the years, and it hit me immediately that something was different. As deep as she'd always been, she was deeper. Her always-astute phrasing was freer, more expressive, riskier—yet effortless, and everything landed beautifully. I felt like she'd let go of something I hadn't known she was holding on to. She was so vibrant, so full of life that day, I couldn't have imagined it would be the last time I'd hear her sing, or that the next time I saw her she'd be fading, or that just 6 weeks later she'd leave us. I cherish the memory of that Sunday, and of our last sweet visits. I sure wish I could hear where she was headed musically. I like to think she's at the Great Celestial Jam Session, singing, soaring, welcomed and embraced by those who've who gone ahead.

Ben Cassara

Roz Corral made a difference in the lives of so many people. She has been called "Den Mother" to the NYC vocal community and was respected by vocalists and instrumentalists alike. She was so much a part of the scene, and loved her city, New York. Not only did she continue to grow as an artist throughout her career, she consistently encouraged and helped others with their art. Her strength, determination, and love of life were admired by many, as were her musicality and her way with a lyric. Roz could make any song she chose to sing her own.

Her truth and honestly always shone bright thru her music, and in her life. She was a good friend to me.

I was honored to be with her the last few days of her life. I will miss our laughs, our daily conversations about music and life in general, her beautiful smile, her wonderful voice, her honesty, our friendship...but I won't say goodbye...

Her music and her influence will live on.

Paul Jost

I don't know when my heart will realign itself or if it ever will completely.

While standing in line at Dublin airport waiting to come home after experiencing one of my life's highest highs, I received the saddest text that Roz was in the hospital and unlikely to last the day. I broke down, powerless, and texted her in hopes I might somehow be with her and that she might hear my last plea telling her how deeply I love her. I don't know if it made it through in time or if she were able to hear me. I received a text about 30 minutes later that Roz had passed. We had a great time in Ireland and no one would've been happier for me than Roz. Before I left she told me she thought Bruce Barth was playing there too, and sure enough he was and we hooked up. I've loved his work for a long time and of course his playing and arranging on Telling Tales ("Let's Face the Music and Dance"). We traded thoughts about Roz, and Bruce suggested we send a selfie knowing it would make her happy to see us together.

I'll always remember this day as one of my life's highest points book-ended by one of its saddest. And such is life.

The arc of my musical message is always laced with observations of life and the encouragement to seize every day the best you can; to recognize that every moment, the joys and the sorrows, are all gifts in this grand experiment. We never know its schedule or its course.

Dearest Roz,

I could never thank you enough for all you've done for me; for your faith, your honesty and your "gifts without strings." The colors in my world are so different without you, but I know they'll return as I slowly transition from the sadness to the smiles of joy and happiness your life embraced and shone on those lucky enough to be near you.

Rest in peace, dear one, and be forever surrounded by all the beautiful music you so treasured and warmed eternally by the thoughts of love carried by so many more of us than you ever suspected.

I know you lived a full life and that our spirits will always align and that I'll always feel your presence. I just wish you could've stayed here a little longer. God, I love you.

Paul

Tessa Souter

Roz Corral was very much a mother hen to so many New York singers. Even when she was doing chemo and feeling under the weather she would somehow struggle out to support everyone's gigs. She was omnipresent. I loved looking out into the audience and seeing her there. And she would always write to you afterwards to say how much she enjoyed a gig, or how she liked certain musicians with you, or even that she'd heard you were great from someone who was there if she hadn't made it herself.

She could be blunt—like the time she wrote to say, "it is always a joy to hear you sing" and how thrilled she was that I had a crowd, but that one of my stories was too much (she was right of course!). But she was real! She didn't have a fake bone in her body! Which is probably also what made her such a great singer. She was the real thing in every way—swinging, authentic, great song choices. She had it all. She'd lived, and you could hear it in her music. Her version of "Something's Got To Give" was so witty, and "Somewhere in the Hills" so yearning. She painted pictures in your head.

But perhaps most striking was that whenever she sang she was so utterly and completely in her element. So comfortable. So happy. So in love. It was like she was a vessel, and the music was her inner glow. She was shining. I will miss seeing that. But I am so happy that she was out and about almost to the very end. Roz faced her prognosis so bravely, when some people would have just plain laid down and died. Not Roz. Her determination makes me think of Bizet and Hammerstein's "Card Song," from Carmen Jones: "I'm gonna run out every second I got left, before he throws me down. I'm gonna laugh and sing and use up all my breath, before he mows me down, while I can fly around I'll do my flying high. I'm gonna keep on living up to the day I die."

Judi Silvano

Roz Corral, always slow and steady, had a warm smile that always filled the room and made you feel good.

Roz's musical taste ran deep and she captivated me with her interpretations of songs I had rarely or often never heard before. Whatever she was singing became my new favorite and went onto my list to study!

Roz had that rare ability to draw you in with deep emotion to paint a story with her sound. And when I began to focus on painting, she was one of the first people to adopt one of my early oils, "Red Grass," into her home. From then on, we shared a new appreciation of the expression of our life within. And that connection is priceless.

Roz Corral was a strong presence in the vocal jazz community and she will continue to inspire, as we remember her.

Sheila Jordan

I am so saddened by Roz's passing. I will miss this incredible and caring great lady who made everyone feel special. Rest in peace, my dear, and know you are loved.

Roseanna Vitro

I met Roz Corral in the '80s after moving to NYC, from Houston, Texas. Roz used to come out and hear me sing often and soon I luckily heard Roz sing. We became dear friends who loved each other's taste in songs. Roz would say, "you're my favorite singer." I'd laugh and we'd chat about tunes. We were always hungry for the magic, a special melody, stories of depth and wisdom, hip chord changes, we had to have it all.

Roz's voice was warm as hot dark cocoa. Her song choices were solid and beautiful, you trusted her choices. You knew she'd lived, she had a story to tell and she wasn't in a hurry. Roz was a beautiful artist. She was gracious, but always straightforward. She was an integral part of the New York jazz scene, our beautiful family of serious jazz vocalists. We used to call the great vocalist, Mark Murphy, our God Father, chief of the tribe. As the circle of life moves forward with our losses such as Jon Hendricks, Bob Dorough, and Annie Ross, I continue to be grateful for all the great singers I've known while appreciating the new sisters and brothers in our cause of improvising on beautiful, creative, meaningful music. Roz Corral will be deeply missed.

Santi Debriano

Roz Corral and I performed together countless times at North Square in Greenwich Village. I would drive her home with her sound system after the gigs. She also came out to our home on Staten Island several times for parties. Those were the good old days. I loved it when she was around, everyone did. When she sang, she swung, she made you feel like you were enjoying her company. She was the real thing!

Melissa Hamilton

I met Roz in 1991, courtesy of my dear friend Val Hawk, who had just joined The Ritz, the Boston-based jazz vocal group I had the good fortune to be a member of for about 9 years. At the time, Roz was working in public relations and was literally just getting her feet wet performing in NYC, but she had many years under her belt as a dancer, so it came as no surprise that her command of rhythm was nothing less than astounding. Our friendship developed in many ways—literature, music, theater, you name it! She loved to go on trips—I took her to Maine to visit my parents and she fell in love with my home state; I regret not taking her there again.

What can I say about her musicality that won't be said by everyone? She set a high bar in terms of, well, hell, everything. But the thing I appreciated most about Roz was that when she asked you for feedback, she wanted the truth. She would have a lot more respect for you if you said, well, you weren't on top of your game tonight than, oh you were wonderful! Because we all know, we have those nights! She didn't have many. Roz was, and always will be, a light of my life.

Gilad Hekselman

Roz Corral was one of those people that made NY worth living in. She loved songs, searched for the special ones, and sang them beautifully from the heart with a rawness that was incredibly moving and heartfelt. I've played with her quite a bit throughout the years, and whenever she would call me I'd always get excited and say yes if I was around. No matter the venue, she always performed as if she were on a big stage with a spotlight on her, with her whole heart and soul. I am so grateful I had a chance to know her and make music with her. My family and I loved her so much, and miss her deeply already.

Ari Silverstein

I first was introduced to Roz Corral by the legendary vocalist Mark Murphy who asked me to join him for brunch at the lovely North Square Lounge in the Washington Square Hotel. As I entered the back jazz room Mark was sitting under a tile portrait of Marlena Dietrich. Mark was a mentor to both Roz and myself. He rarely invited me to see a vocalist perform so I knew I was in for something very special. That day started my adoration of Roz's unique style, phrasing and, paramount to all, her brilliant and eclectic repertoire.

That day at the North Square started a friendship and fandom that would last some 20 years. I saw Roz perform hundreds of times over that timespan, mostly at various venues in The Village: Zinc Bar, Bar Next Door, Mezzrow, Cornelia Street Cafe, but especially the 55 Bar and the aforementioned North Square, where she started the jazz brunch and also booked the other vocalists and bands when she wasn't appearing there.

Roz was one of the den mothers of the "singers' scene," and certainly of the legendary 55 Bar.

She also performed in larger venues particularly in tribute to Mark Murphy as part of his birthday celebrations; Joe's Pub, Blue Note, and Pangea. She was also a regular at St Peter's Midday Jazz and favorite of producer Ronny Whyte. Corral also appeared in a star-studded memorial tribute to Murphy at a packed St Peter's, which I was honored to co-produce. Roz always seemed to really "rise to the occasion" when she would perform in tribute shows, often being the talk of the town after her appearance.

Roz was adored as a "singer's singer" for three main reasons in my mind: phrasing (think Carmen McRae), her honesty on and off the bandstand and, perhaps most importantly, her repertoire. Her songbook was filled with lesser-known gems. She had a great love for the Brazilian songbook and for players largely associated with that material, such as Roni Ben Hur, David Silliman, and Eddie Montiero. Some Brazilian favorites she performed included: "Flor De Lis (Upside Down)," "Favela (Somewhere in the Hills)," and "Photographia." Other lesser known standards she championed included "The Snake" by Oscar Brown, Jr., "I Can't Take You Nowhere" by Dave Frishberg, "Inside A Silent Tear" by Blossom Dearie, "Love Makes The Changes" by Michel Legrand, and "In The Name of Love" by Kenny Rankin.

Don Shire

Roz was a one of the first singers that I got to knew at the 55 Bar, and we became good friends. Two songs that will always remind me of Roz are Stephen Sondheim's "Anyone Can Whistle," and Oscar Brown, Jr.'s "The Snake." With a somewhat evil glint in her eye, she'd sing, "You knew darn well I was a snake before you took me in."

Harvie S

I have known Roz since the early '90's and started working with her then. She seemed to be able to find obscure songs that fit her personality, while mixing in some well-known standards, ultimately creating a wonderful listening experience for the audience.

Playing bass on and off with her for over 30 years I always enjoyed the gigs, and she was such a fun and positive person. She got cancer a few years ago and had other health problems. That didn't slow her down at all, and if you saw her she went about as if nothing was wrong. She never complained and always had a smile and positive attitude.

Roni Ben-Hur and I had a gig at the Soapbox Gallery earlier this year and he suggested that she join us. I am so glad that there is a video of that. Roz sang so beautifully. I know she wasn't well at the time, but she looked great and gave it all. She was such an inspiration and I am so blessed to have known her.

Michelle Walker

It's been a tough year for me, with a lot of losses. I lost my mother ten months ago. We all must go through this pain at some point in our lives and we are never quite prepared when that day finally comes. With the recent passing of my dear friend Roz Corral, it now feels as if I am experiencing the loss of a mother all over again: a musical mother. I am still reeling from the news I got that sad morning letting me know it was too late to come to the hospital. I am suffering a tremendous amount of survivor's guilt, but holding on to the memories of our dear friendship. I remember the first time I met Roz. She seemed to have a stately way about her that reminded me of my grandmother. She was well-poised, well-spoken, strong-minded, and proud. The last time I saw Roz, she and I were sitting outside our favorite performing room, the 55 Bar, at the beginning of the summer on the night it closed, talking about the old days and all the great music that had been made in that room. I remember thinking then that she looked tired, but still had that same familiar regal beautiful air about her.

Thinking back over the years, Roz has been there, not just for me, but for countless other singers she tirelessly supported. From quietly coming into the room of one of your gigs and nodding with approval at the end of tunes she really liked, or opening a phone call to you with her loving, "Hello, My Sweet! Are you free to play North Square?" She was there, always. Very much like my own mother was there. A memory that I have that comforts me is that of all three of us, my Mom, Roz, and me, in my kitchen cooking for a small get together of close friends. No one else had arrived yet and it was just us, laughing about the fun times we all had at a Tina Turner concert a few years earlier all together. What fun that was! My mother was the most important person in my life, but Roz was a very significant person for me that filled that motherly role at times when I moved to New York City. With her gone, nothing will be the same...but she made life brighter while here. Roz Corral will be deeply and whole-heartedly missed.

Daryl Sherman

This community of ours is strong, but when someone we treasure rises to the heavens we fall to bits. Just recently we lost Michael Bourne, Carol Fredette a couple of years ago, Mike Renzi just last year. And now, dammit, the dear, beloved Roz Corral. She fought well and hard and managed to keep steps ahead of her illness. Roz sang a truly fine program of great material at Mezzrow recently and was looking terrific. Then, suddenly, boom, shockeroo.

Her many fans included Bruce Barth who, when he's not playing for Roz or doing his own gigs, truly digs listening to her sing, often at North Square. He even told me so.

Dear Roz, I know you'll be missed muchissimo, but you'll always be spoken of, and thought of, with deep feeling.

John Lang

Roz Corral.
Master Class.
You taught me the meaning of many songs.
You taught me grace both musical and professional.
You taught me joy with your presence and with your voice.
You were singular. There are no substitutions for your talents.
I will hold all the memories of you dear and hope they can help me rise to your level of grace and maturity.
The artistry you left us with elevates us all.
The swing you brought to the music will float with your spirit in the universe forever.
Much love from your great admirer, which is all of us.

Melissa Stylianou

Roz was one of the most supportive members of the jazz community, in more ways than one. When I first moved to NYC from Toronto, Roz came out to hear me sing, and shortly afterwards she offered me a coveted spot in the series she curated at North Square Lounge. She was often at those shows as well, ready to set the stage with a warm and personal introduction before the set. She would listen intently, with that smile and sparkle in her eyes that let me know she was picking up what I was putting down. She shared what she appreciated in my singing and when she noticed improvement. She supported my choices and changes in approach and repertoire, but also let me know enthusiastically what she loved hearing me do most of all: singing standards with integrity. I took note, and also took "notes" when listening to this artist perform on her own. Roz commanded any room with a quiet confidence, and was always challenging herself. It was clear she valued clarity and depth in her delivery of a song. How many times had I heard that song, but only now was hearing the words, I asked myself after she graciously sat in on my gig at the 55 Bar. I feel blessed to have been in the embrace of the circle of musicians that Roz seemed to be the kind of reluctant center of; she could hold a room, but never stole the limelight. I am so glad I met and had the chance to learn from such wonderful woman. Thank you, Roz.

Claudia Acuna

I met Roz almost as soon as I arrived in this country and started going to jam sessions and to Barry Harris's workshops. My English was really poor, and Roz always had such kind words. Seeing her around was like seeing Mother Earth. Through the years, as I became known on the scene and was signed by labels, she always came to my gigs and gave me so much encouragement. She was a light, a blessed sun bringing happiness, kindness, and warmth. Now we have a star, an angel somewhere looking after all of us.

We will miss you, dear Roz. You were loved.

Louise Rogers

My friendship with Roz was a fairly new one that developed a few months before the pandemic shut New York City down. We both wondered why we had never connected before and why it took so long for us to become friends. We bonded quickly, enjoying talks about music, singers, songs, our musical endeavors, and life! I will share one conversation I had with Roz at one of her recent North Square gigs: She asked me "Why do you always come to hear me? Why don't you go to hear more young singers?" My answer was, "Roz, you tell a story I want to hear. You're therapy for my soul. You remind me that this is why we sing: we tell stories with the words, the melodies, and in the delivery. There are very few singers that can do this as well as you. You deliver a song with a deep connection to the lyrics. You've got the 'believability factor,' and I believe every word you sing. You make me feel. You put a lifetime of experiences in your notes." Her answer was, "You're just trying to tell me that I'm old..."  We laughed!

In this giant world of jazz, being surrounded by amazing musicians at every turn, Roz made me feel like I mattered. She told me that the work Jazz WaHi was doing was important. Her encouragement gave me hope, and reminded me that we are a musical community looking for inspiration, support, love, and kindness. All of which I got from Roz. I will hold our conversations lovingly in my soul and listen for her words and melodies as she soars.

Teri Roiger

My heart goes out to the music community as we all mourn the passing of our sweet friend, Roz Corral. I have had the pleasure of listening to Roz and her beautiful singing for many years, and more often during this past year than ever before. She exuded so much joy and humor in her music as she seemed to reach higher levels of artistry each time I heard her, throwing caution to the wind! She really knew how to entertain an audience without compromising her artistic magnificence, and she so loved to sing, Right up until the end, Roz was a stunning example of grace, resilience, and acceptance, and I have learned so much from her. I will always treasure the photograph I took of her singing with my husband, John Menegon, on bass, and the look on her face as he was finishing his solo on "Love Walked In." Her beautiful expression says everything. It was so endearing, how she would look at me in the audience, point to John, and say, "I love him!" or "You get to live with this?" Her outpouring of affection and honesty always put a smile on my face. Roz was truly one of a kind and I will miss seeing her in my West Village 'hood, and inviting her over for small New Year's Eve gatherings when we didn't have gigs. I know we will all miss her so very much, especially the NYC jazz vocal community and the many instrumentalists she had such a deep connection with.

Thank you, Roz, for sharing yourself with us and finding all those wonderfully obscure tunes! And for finding new ways to sing the standards, many of them obscure, drawing us in with every phrase, every word, and bringing us to a more meaningful understanding of the lyrics. You and your delightful storytelling will live on in our hearts always. May you now Rest in Peace as you Soar and Sing with the Angels!

John Menegon

Roz Corral was an exceptional musician, vocalist, and dear friend. She brought a profound truth to the stage, and I was able to converse with her on so many of the great and rare tunes she brought to the bandstand. Eventually we got to play some bass & voice duos, which was particularly enjoyable; we certainly trusted each other's musical choices, which inevitably led us to experience a joyous conversation. Roz was considered somewhat of a den mother to all the vocalists she came across, but to me, as a bassist, there was a deep connection that only happens on rare occasions. We will all miss her in every way, both personally and musically. Her voice still rings in our heads and will continue to do so for a very long time!

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