Why I Sing

The synergy's the thing. That's the pop. That's the fireworks. The synergy is that uncut dope that keeps me crawling back to jazz again and again. When a song is really blasting off, there is a common energy between the players that is highly magical and euphoric to the bone. In this moment, the connection is so true that anything can happen and a raging freedom ensues. There is trust and flow. The musicians collectively give themselves to the music and the moment. It is improvisation in the truest sense of the word. Of course, not every tune is a musical orgasm. In fact, I've suffered through my share of stinky dogs and train wrecks. But the possibility of synergy is always, always present. That's enough to keep me here, singing jazz every single day.

I came to jazz kind of late. By that, I mean I didn't come up through the ranks of a high school jazz program, followed by a reputable music school. I had worked as an actor before taking time off to have my children and stay home with them. Shortly after my father died, I was invited to sing in a blues band. (The bass player for this particular band had seen me sing karaoke at a Halloween party the year before.) It had been awhile since I'd done any performing and really liked the idea of singing as opposed to acting. So it began. I ended up singing in a couple of blues bands, neither of which were very good. We mostly did parties and a few occasional club dates. When blues band # 2 crashed and burned, I still had the yen to sing. I turned around and went looking for jazz. I had always listened to jazz but just hadn't sung it before. I shot an email off to a woman who is probably one of the best living jazz vocalists today, and she agreed to take me on as a student. The first jazz tune I ever sang was "Mean to Me". I sang along with an Aebersold recording in her living room. I still remember that we talked about swing and clapped together on the 2 and the 4. When I left her house that afternoon, my life had changed forever. The seed was not only planted, but shoving up through the dirt. The planets aligned. The hegira was set.

Switching from blues to jazz has not been an easy trip. It's been a whole lot of work. It's like making a ballerina out of a rodeo clown. I will forever be a student of jazz and am always looking for ways to improve my musicianship and to become a better singer. The learning never stops. That first year, I pretty much just took lessons, learned new tunes and sang along to Aebersold recordings. After that, I began to branch out: Showing up for vocal jams, taking workshops and even doing a gig now and then. At some point along the way, I set an intention: To become as good a jazz singer as possible, to commit to learning and to sing out professionally. With my eye always on that intention, my journey has evolved. I'm slowly getting better and I do sing professionally. Along the way, there have been many firsts (like singing in front of a large audience at a festival) and there have been many challenges (most created in my own mind) to overcome. For example, I used to be afraid to ask certain musicians to gig with me because I didn't feel like I was "good enough" or had somehow not earned "the right" to play with the best available. If I did ask them, new situations with new players were always wrought with worry and anxiety. I got over that and fast. As soon as I could just let myself be at the place I was and not judge myself so damn much, I was able to open myself to learning from all the amazing musicians I was playing with. Every gig was a classroom. That's still the case for me today. I'm still at it. I love singing with new people. I consider every tune an adventure and an opportunity to let go and be happy. I put myself in as many musical situations as possible. I accept the good with the bad. Some nights you sing your ass off. Other nights, you leave even yourself yawning or scratching your head. ("Geez, how did I fuck that up?") For me, it's one big, wonderful, messy trip full of potential and joy and well, synergy. That's why I sing. Frankly, I can't not sing. Jazz will never let go. I don't want it to.