I saw Dianne Reeves live for the second time at Maryland Hall in Annapolis, MD, on December 16, 2005. A number of my friends came along. Ms. Reeves had released a Christmas CD the season before and had several of her Christmas charts “at the ready” in her set list. She also, during the previous year, had been tapped to provide the music for a film directed by George Clooney called “Good Night And Good Luck”, a period piece about the conflict between Edward R. Murrow and US Senator Joseph McCarthy. The studio had released the movie in October and the soundtrack had attracted a lot of attention.
Ms. Reeves had brought her own band. When introducing the members, she made much ado about her pianist. He had, just months before, lost virtually everything in Hurricane Katrina. He sounded wonderful.
At one point in the concert, Ms. Reeves talked about her experience with Mr. Clooney. The studio had decided to place her and her combo in a number of scenes within the movie. She spent a moment or so talking about her adventures in movie acting with a famous actor as the director. She earned herself a big laugh when she revealed this singular aspect about George Clooney: “He’s really fine”.
Since the film takes place in the early 1950’s, not only did the songs need to come from that era, but the time period’s style needed to infuse the musical selections as well. Ms. Reeves’ genius lies here: She delivers an inspired performance with each jazz standard on this album, nestled deep in the musical elegance, sophistication and poise of the time. Musical art deco, if you will, modest and conservative. And, yet, I can hear, in my musical imagination, places where she would normally escape the confines of measure and melody in order to mount a more stirring rendition of the songs in the manner in which she, and her audience, is accustomed.
She won her audience at the concert that evening, and she won her larger audience with this album. She received her fourth Grammy Award for Best Vocal Jazz Performance with her performance on this soundtrack CD.
We went to a coffee house afterward and talked about the show. B. asked James F., a bass player, what he thought of her singing. “I really didn’t listen to her,” came the reply. “What?” “I really don’t care for singers so I zeroed in on the bass player and the drummer.”
Professional musicians quite often have the facility to isolate various aspects of the music to which they listen. James had the ability, in this case, to procure satisfaction from the musical performance by digging the groove set down by the bass and drums, and filtering out what he didn’t want to hear. I like to compare musical performances with visits to museums. During a trip to a museum, an art enthusiast can see the same pieces as other visitors and, yet, can walk away having encountered those pieces in a completely different way. Two audience members at a concert can have two very different reactions to, and notions about, the music emanating from the stage. Just like two Americans can listen to the same State of the Union address, but can hear two completely different speeches.
Credits: To Edward R. Murrow, one of broadcast journalism’s greatest figures. Thank you for sharing with us your honesty and integrity.
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