Usually I don’t pay much attention to singers. Write me off as an antiquated crank and/or a failed chanteuse (I’m actually neither), but I find that mighty few current vocalists affect me in any significant (positive) way. If Beyonce (leaning heavily on electronic crutches) singing the Star Spangled Banner at the Stupor Bowl is considered some sort of benchmark in vocal virtuosity (and if you think I’m being facetious, just read some of the post mortems of the broadcast), then there’s no room in the universe for the likes of Billie Holiday, Aretha Franklin, or even Mariah Carey (who despite her abysmal taste in material seems to have halfway decent pipes). Vocal art seems to be on a downhill slide that gathers more momentum every second. To close my argument I think there are two words that should suffice: Macy Gray. How that woman ever got signed to a major label deal is one of life’s most profound mysteries.
But back to Cassandra Wilson. I had heard about her for at least the past ten years but somehow had escaped hearing any of her CD’s. And while I had a few minor quibbles with some of the production values on “New Moon Daughter,” my main response was uplift, and something bordering on awe. The voice, the arrangements, the fact that a great deal of thought and intelligence lay behind the record...if Wilson could survive for a couple of decades in the industry on the basis of records like this one, maybe there was a little hope for the music world after all.
I won’t go into a minute breakdown of Wilson’s vocal technique; if you Google her, you’ll find endless articles easily accessible which go into the most agonizing detail about her singing, if such is your pleasure. She has released what appears, from a casual search, to be dozens of CD’s in the past 20 or so years. I look forward to hearing them.
Not surprisingly, she has spawned a number of disciples, one of the more current of whom is Norah Jones (who has seemingly taken detailed notes on how to water down Wilson’s artistic vision, reduce its gravity, and make it radio friendly). Which is not a bad thing in my book. There are a lot worse role models than Wilson for younger performers looking for inspiration. She’s infinitely hipper than Diana Krall, more of a musician than many of her vocal contemporaries, yet she somehow has managed to remain true to her roots in blues, jazz, and country music. My hat’s off to her.
Usually I leave it right on my head.
