Those Conformist Fifties: May 2010 Archives
I'd been aware of the name all my life, but that was all; it hovered on the edge of my known world, since the name itself is distinctive. And the name suggested a singer who has some sort of schtick, like HIldegarde's gloves. But that was it, for all my life until now.
And then two people I play music with had a brief conversation, just a couple of sentences, about Blossom Dearie, so I began checking her out. She's often described in very misleading ways, I can tell you. They call her voice "girlish," "wispy," "small" even verging on squeaky, they say. The former New Yorker jazz critic Whitney Balliett once said that "without a microphone it would not reach the second floor of a doll's house"—clever enough, I will admit, but not a statement that tells you what Blossom Dearie would sound like if you were on the first floor, listening to her.
Most damningly, her voice is often called an "acquired taste." Well, I listened to her and acquired the taste instantly, deeply—I fell in love, if you want to know the truth. The clip below is from the early Sixties, by the way, not the Fifties, but it's pretty representative of what she was doing in the early part of her career. Maybe you'll fall in love too:
Well? Was that magical? Are you in love yourself? She was born in the Twenties in a small town in the Catskills, and she said in interviews that she took "Surrey" at a more relaxed pace than was typical because she remembered seeing buggies going by in her youth. Not that rural roots impaired her hipness much: She studied classical piano but was drawn to jazz in her teens, and went to New York, where she made a name for herself playing piano and singing. Then she went to France after the war and made a name for herself there too, then came back and was invited to make albums by Norman Granz, who ran one of the leading jazz labels. She sang the fast songs with a carefree verve that would give Ella a run for her money, and the ballads—well, I've never heard anyone so affecting, so real, so full of feeling. No other singer. Ever. That's just how I feel. And it must also be said that she comps—accompanies herself—brilliantly, and takes a hell of an intelligent, well-crafted solo now and then. And the other thing that comes through is how smart and fun and deeply cool she is. Well—was, actually. She died last year. But she performed to adoring crowds in supper clubs and concerts into 2006, and she did songs on Schoolhouse Rock, and she did a lot of recording all her life. I could have heard her live, if I'd known. I feel bad about that. But I know about her now. My favorite stuff is from the Fifties. Check it out; you may acquire the taste yourself.
