Nancy Kelly- Yowza!

Nancy Kelly embodies all the elements that make up make up what I consider to be a truly great jazz singer: a natural ease with the music, crystalline tone, flawless chat chops and last but not least, crazy swing, baby. She is a wonder to behold.

Last night, I had the pleasure of catching Nancy’s show at Bake’s Place, where she appeared for a weekend long run. Joining Nancy was a powerhouse Northwest rhythm section featuring Randy Halberstadt on piano, Dave Captein on bass and Gary Hobbs on drums. Nancy and crew came out guns a blazing and took us on an exhilarating two-hour ride that left me breathless.

One of the first things that struck me about Nancy was her effortless approach to the music. She possesses an uncanny ability to simply lay back and let the music come to her. No hurries. No worries. She takes her time, and the result is a lyrical flow that is seemingly effortless. She has a tendency-especially on the more well traveled standards-to play with the melody line right away, as opposed to the conventional tactic of singing the initial head note for note before changing things up on subsequent go arounds. I thought this was really refreshing; she is not a singer to be boxed in by any formulaic approach and her melodic sensibility is spot on.

Nancy has a wealth of finely honed tools at her disposal. Her scatting is amazing. She’s technically razor sharp and is also full of surprises. Sometimes in the middle of a song, she’ll drop the lyrics and scat a phrase or two before returning back to the lyrics. It made for an interesting weave. At one point, during a particularly playful exchange of fours with Hobbs on “But Not For Me,” she pulled out a delightful Lois Armstrong growl. Hobbs answered with a spirited rumble that could have come straight out of “Jungle Book.”

Of course, Nancy’s most lethal weapon is her impeccable sense of swing. From the hard-driving “Jeannine” to the slow and easy "I Only Have Eyes For You,” tempo was no matter. Whatever the tune, Nancy grabbed the groove and held it sweet and steady. She is a swing machine. It’s as if the two and four are imbedded into her DNA. When Nancy swings, all feels right with the world, a least in my mind. Whew!

There were many high points throughout the night. The Cole Porter classic “It’s Alright With Me,” was performed at lightning speed, with Nancy and Captein working as a voice and bass duo on the first chorus. Nancy scatted to the moon and back, and by the time the whole band was in, the room was quite literally shaking. “Let’s Talk Business” had a similar effect. It was straight ahead, no messing around blues: big, belting and swinging.

Although there was plenty of swing, many dizzying solos and mad fun all around, Nancy tempered the evening with a handful of lush and poignant ballads. Although I was enchanted by her beautiful tone all evening, I found it particularly pristine on the slower numbers. I was mesmerized by her phrasing on “Don’t Worry About Me.” She demonstrated phenomenal patience, and her use of space made the song all the more wrenching. Another heart tugger was the slow Bossa “Here’s Looking at You,” which nearly brought me to tears. Among other things, Nancy knows how to tell the story.

Nancy had a strong musical rapport with her band. Their synergy was instantaneous. There are probably a lot of factors that contributed to that. For one, Nancy and crew are tops in the business and have years and years of experience. Their common language is well established. But another aspect that struck me as how well everyone on the bandstand was listening to each other. Not one nuance, not even the subtlest, was missed. This made for some fabulous interplay, especially between Nancy and Randy, who seemed to light each other up.

Nancy Kelly clearly loves what she does. She is a veteran musician with years of performing experience. Still, I sense that every song is an adventure for her. She listens intently and seems open and ready for any new discovery that the moment throws her way. Her joie de vivre was not lost on her band, and they were clearly energized by their fiery blonde bandleader. The love fest only served to elevate what were already outstanding performances all around. To me, this is what jazz is all about. Nancy Kelly is pure magic.

Here Comes Rachelle

Well, damn.

Between my ongoing gig as a U.W. student, motherhood and a multitude of other writing obligations, I’ve been remiss about showing up for this blog. I know; I said I’d do better and I really intended to. However, the other day I saw a bumper sticker that said “Nobody gives a shit about your blog.” So maybe apologies for my absence aren’t in order after all?

It was with almost histrionic glee that I saw that Rachelle Ferrell will be rolling into Jazz Alley in April. She is easily one of my favorite living vocalists, and I am absolutely thrilled for the opportunity to finally see and hear her. I honestly don’t think I’ve been this excited for a concert since I was a 15 year-old girl, and Peter Frampton was coming to the Lloyd Nobel Arena in Norman, OK. (Thank God for the artists that had the compassion to route their tours through Oklahoma. It gave hope to the notion that there was a better world beyond the Bible belt, and this was enough to keep my dumb Okie heart going until I was ultimately able to escape.)

But back to Rachelle: about a year ago, I blogged about her on another site. Because I’m a lazy ass and don't feel like reinventing the wheel tonight, I’ll just offer up what I wrote then:

Rachelle Ferrell is an American vocalist. Many consider her to be a jazz vocalist, although she would bristle at being boxed into any one definition. In short, she is a wonder to behold. Her voice is the perfect musical instrument, and there seems to be no end to what she can do with it. She has a six-octave range, which she bounces around in with ease and a control that is mind-boggling. She can soar up to the stratospheres or burrow down into the deepest guttural moans. She can bend and fold notes then shoot them off like nuclear missiles. Sometimes she sounds like an animal. Sometimes she screams. But more often, nothing but pure beauty pours out of her. Some could consider her vocal escapades to be excessive, undisciplined or lacking in taste. A friend calls them “pyrotechnics”. In my opinion, she embodies the open spirit of pure jazz and even more, raw and unfiltered emotion. She is possibly the most honest singer I have ever heard. Every note conveys something that I believe to be completely authentic and true to the very core of her soul. In her words: "Some people sing songs like they wear clothing, they put it on and take it off, but when one performs four sets a night, six nights a week, that experience affords you the opportunity to present the song from the inside out, to express its essence. In this way, a singer expresses the song in the spirit in which it was written. The songwriter translates emotion into words. The singer's job is to translate the words back into emotion." It is evident to me that Ms. Ferrell has known great pain. When I listen to her, it is palpable on a cellular level, and in every song, she rips open her heart and bares all. I’m not sure I have ever experienced as courageous an artist as Rachelle Ferrell, and this certainly gives me something to think about. She puts her pain out there for all of us to hear and feel, and I am so very glad for that. She doesn’t hold back, and in experiencing her anguish and humanity, I feel oddly empowered to give voice to my own.

When I first became hip to Rachelle Ferrell, I was slugging through a very dark period. I was going through a divorce and all the emotional collateral damage that goes with it. My oldest kid was pissed off and so beyond my reach that it seemed unlikely we would ever find our way back to each other. My youngest was simply adrift. I was seriously short on bread. All of our hearts were broken, and we were crashing and burning everywhere. I was drowning in a pain so huge that I didn’t know what to do with it. Even the written word, which had always served as my most powerful weapon and medicine, was feeble in the face if such an unrelenting anguish. And then came Rachelle. I listened to her constantly and hung on for dear life. I took comfort in her ferocity and tenderness. She spoke for me when I couldn’t even get up off the floor. Rachelle Ferrell saved my ass.

Thankfully, these are happier days. The kid is back. The room’s stopped spinning. The beast has backed down, and we’ve climbed out from the rubble. We’re going to be OK. (I’m still broke a lot of the time, but who isn’t?) And now, here comes Rachelle. My girl Cara and are already making a plan. It’s not often that you get to see your angel and listen to her sing. I am so there.