I promise I will get to the point. So those sisters of mine started bringing home all kinds of interesting people on the weekends, and they also brought interesting music! They had started singing jazz with their roommates or whoever, and would bring home sheet music for my mom to accompany them. I'll never forget the first time my mom, a very classical pianist (I don't think she'd be offended to be called a purist), sat down to play "Peel Me a Grape," some sexy, comical song they brought home about demanding royal treatment from a lover. The left hand starts in with a walking 8th-note bass line, which you're obviously supposed to swing. She played them as straight as can be and everyone busted a gut. So here was this new genre that my mother didn't even know how to do, and... I liked it, a lot. I ate it up and sang it every chance I could get. I learned the easier songs on the piano and would wait until nobody was home to really belt it out.
You have to understand something here. I come from a family of CLASSICAL musicians. Like, complete music snobs. As a kid I would snicker along with the rest of my siblings whenever someone sang something borderline pop-ish at church. We made faces when people were out of tune. We acted as though we were better than the rest. The truth is, we were very good musicians and we knew it. I can't speak for the rest of them, but it gave me my sense of worth. Maybe not in the best way, but there were times when it was all I had to cling to. The point is, where I came from, there was one superior way to do music and it was classical. Pop was nauseating, rock was straight-up evil. Oldies were sort-of tolerated because my dad (a teenager during the 60's) was still part of the family. But mostly, anything that the symphony wouldn't play was "just noise."
BUT THEN
This jazz stuff that my sisters brought home was surprisingly not condemned. My mom even willingly played it for us when we younger girls wanted to sing. But we were still little classical robots and we held each other to it. The college girls could sing however they wanted, but when they left, I felt too presumptuous to sing with any style. What if somebody heard me? Who was I to be taking liberties here or adding a trill there?? I had been trained from the age of two to PLAY AS WRITTEN. It was alright for Ella Fitzgerald to put her soul into it, but not for little ol' me. I was supposed to be a violin virtuoso, nothing more, nothing less.
In fairness, I need to interject here that musicals were always acceptable in my family, so most Broadway-stye stuff was ok and even encouraged. But it was still to be sung as written, or just like in the movie, or whatever.
Well, years went by and my secret dream of being a jazz singer became less secret as one of my sisters got more into it too and started encouraging me. She bought me a fakebook and played recordings for me. I think it was her dream too. I eventually started checking jazz CDs out from the library (this was pre-YouTube, folks) and took a jazz history class when I went to college.* But I was always, always held back by the feeling that I just lived in a different sphere. Singing jazz just wasn't on the plan. My mom even said something once about me having my head in the clouds to think that I'd be happy just "singing in smoky bars" all the time. That stung a little. She clearly did not approve. So I dropped it.
During my freshman year (at the University of Utah - Go Utes!), I met my man and we got married that summer. Now here was a guy who loved music and could even sing and play guitar. But... he liked punk, rock, Beatles, Ben Folds, all kinds of stuff. He had been in a ska band - even played in "smoky bars" before! He loved that I could play violin, but he wanted to hear me play "Come On Eileen," or "Istanbul" or whatever else was fun to play together. You know, fun - the reason most people play music. I dug out my fakebook and we started learning some songs. I would figure out the crazy jazz chords and he'd try his best to play them on the guitar. Then I'd sing. We didn't do this very much, but I ADORED the feeling of it when we did. But that's kind of all that happened.
When I was preggers with our first baby, we bought a restaurant. A Bistro, in fact. On Historic 25th Street in downtown Ogden. Awesome, charming atmosphere in a century-old building with exposed brick and French artwork. The PERFECT place to sing jazz on a Saturday night. Now was my chance! Since we owned the place, nobody could say no. Nobody could reject me or say I didn't have the credentials or whatever. But guys,
I NEVER DID IT!
My husband was more than supportive, I certainly could have pulled it off, but I was too chicken. Maybe I was worried I'd be found out as an imposter! Maybe I was worried my mom would find out, or my siblings. Maybe I just didn't believe that I had permission to do something different than exactly what I was trained to do, in public. BINGO.
Something important happened last spring (I think it was around then). Devin's great-uncle Delmar passed away and after his funeral there was a luncheon at the Bistro. <<Background Info: Delmar met and married his sweetheart while in the military in the... 40's? Or even earlier? Anyway, he wrote a bunch of love songs for his wife. Super sweet. But he'd never written them down and he wanted them transcribed before he died. So he recorded himself singing them and I got the task of writing them out. It was a little tricky to pick out the notes, between all the accidentals and his shaky voice, but I did the best I could, and here emerged these really sweet, really jazzy, kinda sappy songs. I emailed them on and didn't really think about them again (except when they were stuck in my head from hearing them so many times).>> So, back at the luncheon, there was a little program, including some of Delmar's songs. Devin's uncle sang one reasonably well, considering he didn't really know it, but then my father-in-law stood up to sing another one, which was a lot more tricky. He absolutely was not doing it justice. I was standing by, thinking, 'This is the last time anyone will ever hear this song. And I am the only person on the planet who knows what it's supposed to sound like. I have to save it.' I pictured Delmar watching from above and slapping his forehead in exasperation. I was barely kin to him and had most definitely not been asked to sing at this shindig, but I still thought I owed it to Delmar, so I quickly gathered my courage, marched up to Nick, interrupted his singing in front of 50 or so people, and said "Nick, I love ya, but you're butchering this song." Everybody laughed, he stepped aside, I said a few words about transcribing the songs and how sweet and simple Delmar's adoration for his wife was, and then I sang the song the way it was meant to be.
Oh, the horror!! I sang a jazzy song jazzily, and without even being asked! This went against everything I knew. But I did it, and you know what?
EVERYBODY LOVED IT.
They really did. They loved that I stopped Nick, they loved what I said and how I sang, they loved my voice.
This was a huge deal for me. I just did it for Delmar's sake, but it showed me that [at least some] people liked the sound of my voice singing jazz.
Well, life went on and I forgot all about all this, until last week when I found out that the impending sale of our beloved Bistro would be taking place in a matter of days. An announcement went up on Facebook and there was a huge response from heartbroken fans of the restaurant. Devin and I were talking about all our mixed emotions when I said "It's too bad I never sang there." He said "THAT really is a shame." Then he said "Just do it! Sing this weekend before we close!" I hadn't even thought of that. But I got excited about the idea, and then immediately the old familiar feelings set in and I didn't think I should/could/was good enough/whatever. But Devin said get out of bed and get the fakebook and let's make a list. So we did. I was still unsure of it the next day (Thursday), but he started telling people I was going to sing. Scared as I was, I really did want to do it, so I asked my sis-in-law Megan to play piano for me. She agreed and we tentatively planned on Saturday night, our last night in business. I proceeded to waffle about it for the next 36 hours, until Saturday morning when I realized I had nothing to wear.
I had 45 minutes from when Savers opened to get back home. In the car I actually prayed that I'd find a dress. A nice, flattering dress that would be cheap, modest and suitable for singing. My frantic rifling through the dress racks was pretty discouraging. But in the last section I found it. A royal blue ethereal floor-length dress with a little beadwork, a flattering criss-cross bodice, and SLEEVES. I couldn't believe it. I dashed into the dressing room and it fit! Not only did it fit, but it looked great on me! The neckline was a little low, but pin-able. The length would be perfect with heels. The price? $9.99. Hallelujah! I snapped a quick dressing-room photo, bought the dress and raced home just in time for Devin to leave.
Armed with a new dress I now felt more sure that I would actually sing that night. I practiced all morning until my voice was hoarse. I called Megan and coordinated about which songs we could do. This was really happening!
My sister brought her family up for one last Bistro lunch and afterward helped me pin my dress and get it looking right. They went home, the sitter showed up, we packed up the digital piano and headed down to the restaurant.
When the time came to actually sing, I was pretty much completely freaking out inside. We started with a nice, simple song that I know really well, and trust me, I know how to count, but when it was time to come in I just couldn't do it. Megan played a longer intro to try again, and then she still had to nod me in. I was SO NERVOUS!! Besides, my friend Amy had come to watch and showed up RIGHT before we started. But there was nothing to do but sing. So I sang. That whole first song was a little shaky. It was "As Time Goes By." I didn't sing it quite how I wanted to, how I usually do in the comfort of my own home. But at the end, people clapped and we did another song.
Before too long I relaxed into the singing and started to really enjoy it. I did Summertime as a duet with Megan, she sang a few solos, and Devin played and sang a couple songs with me too. It ended up being totally fun, totally my thing, and everyone I knew there (and some I didn't) said I sounded great. I am absolutely not trying to brag here. Just to show that all my fears were being crushed. Not one person said "It sounds like you're trying to be something you're not," or "Tsk tsk, all that scooping!" Now, not one person from my family was there either, so... ya know. I purposely didn't tell them (except Lexye, who helped me with the dress and knows everything about me and still doesn't judge). But people liked it and I loved it and I can't wait to do it again. Now I just need a stand-up bass player.
So that, ladies and gentlemen, is how I got my start as a jazz singer. Look out world!
*Just a little note here about how hard it used to be to pursue something. Without every single thing you could ever want to know online, without the chance to "go viral" and get a following overnight with no connections, no money, no diploma, things just didn't seem as doable. I think maybe my personality and my family culture played into that feeling as well, but I just want to make it clear that it wasn't as easy back then.
