I listened and couldn't help notice how timely it was--as well as beautiful and thought-provoking.
I've been an enthusiastic fan of Lizz Wright's music for 7 years.
I've been an enthusiastic fan of Lizz Wright's music for 7 years.
I looked to see if the review I'd written for Dawn Robinson's vocalmusician.com was still online, and it was. (I love the hoarding spirit of the internet! It lets go of NOTHING. Hmmm...Somebody might need to be reminded of that today before they do something unwise.) If you'd prefer to skip the reading and just dive into the listening, click on the title of this blog, go to Lizz Wright's Facebook wall, "LIKE", and listen. You won't be disappointed. Here's what I felt 7 years ago. Not much has changed, except Lizz Wright is no longer an obscure talent--and I think that's grand--because you KNOW how I adore good singing, and music of substance...: )
LIZZ WRIGHT at Kennedy Center and Blues Alley
by VANESSA WILLIAMS for VocalMusician.com
On May 10, my sister called and asked, "What are you doing?" Of course I was doing nothing, which is my usual posture when I have a chance to be at home. "I have tickets to the Mary Lou Williams Women in Jazz Festival [at Kennedy Center in Washington DC]." she said. "Teena Marie is supposed to be singing tonight."
I thought I could use a little "Square Biz" for old time sake, so I got dressed and went. The first offering for the evening was a wonderful female saxophonist. I'm ashamed I can't recall her name, and Teena was a no-show, but there's not much else I remember about that night, except the performance by a beautiful little girl wearing a long black skirt and burgundy wrap blouse.
She was thin, articulate, and poised. She didn't say very much, other than very humble "thank you's" to the thunderous applause after each tune, very brief introductions to her songs, and acknowlegement to those accompanying her. When she did utter words, it was hard not to even appreciate the tonal quality of her speaking voice as well.
She sang our souls happy, with a little neo soul/pop/jazz smothered in church gravy, then gracefully disappeared behind the curtains. I was glad that I wasn't the only one on my feet clapping like a crazy person, until she figured we hadn't had enough, and floated back to her mark. I didn't even realize I was in tears.
After she left the stage, there was chatter going on between total strangers. "Is that all?" "Who was that?" "Oh my, God!" "Have you heard her before?" People were reaching for programs trying to see in the dark. Programs tilted and lifted, trying to catch a glimmer of light to illuminate the name of the little girl who'd just left us so moved.
"How can you lose your song, when you have sung it for so long? And how can you forget your dance, your dance, when that dance is all you ever had?"...Audience members flocked to the tape tables during intermission, only to find that the little girl hadn't brought any product with her. We'd all have to wait.
Over and over like an echo, I heard, "May 13th?" "When?" "Someone said May 13th" "I think it's May 13". "What's her name?" May 13th couldn't come fast enough for me.
Her name was LIZZ WRIGHT. I suppose I've referred to her as the "little girl" for the following reasons:
1. Because she's little (not short- she just hasn't discovered the joy of the entire bag of potato chips)
2. Because I'm almost twice her age, (so I'm entitled)
3. Because I left the Kennedy Center proud to see a young woman present herself, and operate in her gift so effectively without relying heavily on the marvels of modern audio technology, or falling prey to "hoochification" (translation: presenting oneself in a manner that would disgust a seasoned prostitute, and declaring to the masses in tacky song and deed, that it is necessary to master an even lower form of Ebonics, sing explicit crap, and wear swatches of material and call it clothing). Yes, I am somebody's mother. Sue me.
I ran to "Sam Goody" to pick up her debut CD, Salt, and bought 3. I recommended it to the shopper next to me, and she bought it. I gave away the three I bought within 48 hours. I ran to "Willies", and bought 2 more. I gave those away. I picked up another one that I was determined to keep for myself. I gave it to my daughter, who gave it to a friend.
"Willie's" announced that the local stores were going out of business. I bought the 3 they had left at the store in my neighborhood. I replaced my daughter's CD, put the other one, unopened in my CD tower, and put the third in my CD changer.
It only came out to go with me to Blues Alley to be graced by Mizz Wright's autograph. I've since ordered 2 more online. When I mentioned her name in a conversation on singers during a recent trip, in the company of Richard Smallwood, he perked up in agreement. He'd already had some Salt, and he recalled his "Lizz moment" in a record store.
He said that he had asked the sales clerk if he was listening to something new by another fav, Oleta Adams. The sales clerk said, "No, it's a new artist - LIZZ WRIGHT." Richard said that he told the clerk, "I need that! I'll take that, too". That story prompted others in our group to pick up Salt at the nearest airport record store.
A friend told me perhaps I was just oozing "mother pheromones". Maybe I was just wondering what I could have been, or should have been doing musically when I was 23. Maybe I was just admiring her boldness and good fortune at such a young age. I hadn't bought that many CD's by one artist since Maurette Brown-Clark released How I Feel. I wanted everybody to hear what I heard. I had to make sure I wasn't just in a melancholy, motherly, my-baby-is-coming-home-from-college-mood that night at the Kennedy Center.
It wasn't a fluke. I wasn't just being polite. She was phenomenal; her voice was soaring, rich, and soothing - it was ministry. From torch-like, smoky, to playful, she gave so much more live, than the boundaries of the CD; the CD just hints at what I believe she can really do, but it in no way disappoints.
Another of Washington's best kept vocal secrets, Andrea Dumas, sent me an e-mail reminding me that Lizz would be at Blues Alley on September 3rd. Off I went with my daughter (who was born when Lizz was about 2) to the 8p.m. show. We met Andrea, and I think I ordered food, but I don't recall eating it. Lizz made her way to the stage and proceeded to walk us through her CD.
Again, she didn't say much, which left lots of time for her to sing. It wasn't a fluke. I wasn't just emotional. She was just as terrific as she was at The Kennedy Center, and the intimacy of the Alley just made it that much better. She didn't come with any of the vocal antics that seem to color what is now passing for singing. Every word, and phrase was deliberate and effectively delivered. There were no high high's, but the range she offered was wide enough. I hate to compare, because there is a definite uniqueness about her, but if I had to describe the evening, it was Oleta meets Lalah with a little Jill and Dianne… and everybody's 23.
"Walk With Me, Lord" wasn't an invitation to buck and shout, but a testament (without the actual testimony) that she definitely had a serious relationship with God. She wasn't merely infusing gospel in with the jazz set, making people wonder if she was confused, or unsure of her niche. It didn't seem as if she was groping for her own sound by tackling different genres. She didn't slip it in as if to say, "Oh, by the way, surprise, I'm a Christian, and I sneaked in here to save everybody on the DL". There was honesty in her delivery. There was no need for apologies, theological bull, or excuses to the saints, as to why she was in Blues Alley (and the saints were obviously there). It was clear that this young lady knows exactly who she is; her calling is sure, and wherever she goes, she need not alter herself to appease anyone.
Every song told a story; rose purely from her soul, and the peaceful, joyous look on her face said it all. From Brian Blade's arrangement of "Afro Blue", to the soulful "Soon As I Get Home", Lizz captivated the audience. She flashed a magnificent smile that said she was enjoying where the songs were taking her, and we were going along for the ride.
"Open your eyes, you can fly!" Ok, Lizz. I believe you, child. When she nodded to her pianist to play, "Salt", it was clear that everyone had been waiting for it. The CD delivers that little sermon-in-a-song marvelously, but Mizz Lizz put a little extra contralto stank on it at the Alley.
Poor thing tried to leave the stage when her set was done, but everyone was on their feet, clapping and cheering, and literally making it impossible for her to maneuver her way to the staircase to her dressing room. All she could do was turn around and take the stage for one last song- like we wanted her to. She laughed as she took the mike, and said we blocked her in on purpose. Yeah, we probably did.
Mel Prince was handling sound for the evening, and Lizz and her trio had just the right balance. The 10:00 crowd was milling in and I realized I was still in my seat trying to decide whether my credit card could take another hit. Andrea, Lisa, and I had the good fortune to meet Lizz, and I have to admit, I haven't been so psyched about an autograph in a long time.
"What is it", you ask? You don't get it? Frankly, I just appreciate good singing. If you're looking to follow up the cabbage patch with the new electric slide, the Salt CD's not for you. If you're looking for a lot of smoke, mirrors, and visuals that make you forget there's singing going on, Lizz live is not for you. If you know how to get into a zone where you just want to be moved, need a little encouragement, or just want to applaud a young lady who is using her powers for good, then try a pinch of Salt. I can only imagine her getting better over the years. I hope her label, Verve, is investing for the duration.
Check Lizz out on "Till Then", pianist Danilo Perez's new release, and revisit her on Joe Sample's "Pecan Tree". She'll be at the Birchmere [in Alexandria VA] on Monday, December 1, at 7:30. Taste for yourself, if you don't want to take somebody's mother's word for it.
LIZZ WRIGHT at Kennedy Center and Blues Alley
by VANESSA WILLIAMS for VocalMusician.com
On May 10, my sister called and asked, "What are you doing?" Of course I was doing nothing, which is my usual posture when I have a chance to be at home. "I have tickets to the Mary Lou Williams Women in Jazz Festival [at Kennedy Center in Washington DC]." she said. "Teena Marie is supposed to be singing tonight."
I thought I could use a little "Square Biz" for old time sake, so I got dressed and went. The first offering for the evening was a wonderful female saxophonist. I'm ashamed I can't recall her name, and Teena was a no-show, but there's not much else I remember about that night, except the performance by a beautiful little girl wearing a long black skirt and burgundy wrap blouse.
She was thin, articulate, and poised. She didn't say very much, other than very humble "thank you's" to the thunderous applause after each tune, very brief introductions to her songs, and acknowlegement to those accompanying her. When she did utter words, it was hard not to even appreciate the tonal quality of her speaking voice as well.
She sang our souls happy, with a little neo soul/pop/jazz smothered in church gravy, then gracefully disappeared behind the curtains. I was glad that I wasn't the only one on my feet clapping like a crazy person, until she figured we hadn't had enough, and floated back to her mark. I didn't even realize I was in tears.
After she left the stage, there was chatter going on between total strangers. "Is that all?" "Who was that?" "Oh my, God!" "Have you heard her before?" People were reaching for programs trying to see in the dark. Programs tilted and lifted, trying to catch a glimmer of light to illuminate the name of the little girl who'd just left us so moved.
"How can you lose your song, when you have sung it for so long? And how can you forget your dance, your dance, when that dance is all you ever had?"...Audience members flocked to the tape tables during intermission, only to find that the little girl hadn't brought any product with her. We'd all have to wait.
Over and over like an echo, I heard, "May 13th?" "When?" "Someone said May 13th" "I think it's May 13". "What's her name?" May 13th couldn't come fast enough for me.
Her name was LIZZ WRIGHT. I suppose I've referred to her as the "little girl" for the following reasons:
1. Because she's little (not short- she just hasn't discovered the joy of the entire bag of potato chips)
2. Because I'm almost twice her age, (so I'm entitled)
3. Because I left the Kennedy Center proud to see a young woman present herself, and operate in her gift so effectively without relying heavily on the marvels of modern audio technology, or falling prey to "hoochification" (translation: presenting oneself in a manner that would disgust a seasoned prostitute, and declaring to the masses in tacky song and deed, that it is necessary to master an even lower form of Ebonics, sing explicit crap, and wear swatches of material and call it clothing). Yes, I am somebody's mother. Sue me.
I ran to "Sam Goody" to pick up her debut CD, Salt, and bought 3. I recommended it to the shopper next to me, and she bought it. I gave away the three I bought within 48 hours. I ran to "Willies", and bought 2 more. I gave those away. I picked up another one that I was determined to keep for myself. I gave it to my daughter, who gave it to a friend.
"Willie's" announced that the local stores were going out of business. I bought the 3 they had left at the store in my neighborhood. I replaced my daughter's CD, put the other one, unopened in my CD tower, and put the third in my CD changer.
It only came out to go with me to Blues Alley to be graced by Mizz Wright's autograph. I've since ordered 2 more online. When I mentioned her name in a conversation on singers during a recent trip, in the company of Richard Smallwood, he perked up in agreement. He'd already had some Salt, and he recalled his "Lizz moment" in a record store.
He said that he had asked the sales clerk if he was listening to something new by another fav, Oleta Adams. The sales clerk said, "No, it's a new artist - LIZZ WRIGHT." Richard said that he told the clerk, "I need that! I'll take that, too". That story prompted others in our group to pick up Salt at the nearest airport record store.
A friend told me perhaps I was just oozing "mother pheromones". Maybe I was just wondering what I could have been, or should have been doing musically when I was 23. Maybe I was just admiring her boldness and good fortune at such a young age. I hadn't bought that many CD's by one artist since Maurette Brown-Clark released How I Feel. I wanted everybody to hear what I heard. I had to make sure I wasn't just in a melancholy, motherly, my-baby-is-coming-home-from-college-mood that night at the Kennedy Center.
It wasn't a fluke. I wasn't just being polite. She was phenomenal; her voice was soaring, rich, and soothing - it was ministry. From torch-like, smoky, to playful, she gave so much more live, than the boundaries of the CD; the CD just hints at what I believe she can really do, but it in no way disappoints.
Another of Washington's best kept vocal secrets, Andrea Dumas, sent me an e-mail reminding me that Lizz would be at Blues Alley on September 3rd. Off I went with my daughter (who was born when Lizz was about 2) to the 8p.m. show. We met Andrea, and I think I ordered food, but I don't recall eating it. Lizz made her way to the stage and proceeded to walk us through her CD.
Again, she didn't say much, which left lots of time for her to sing. It wasn't a fluke. I wasn't just emotional. She was just as terrific as she was at The Kennedy Center, and the intimacy of the Alley just made it that much better. She didn't come with any of the vocal antics that seem to color what is now passing for singing. Every word, and phrase was deliberate and effectively delivered. There were no high high's, but the range she offered was wide enough. I hate to compare, because there is a definite uniqueness about her, but if I had to describe the evening, it was Oleta meets Lalah with a little Jill and Dianne… and everybody's 23.
"Walk With Me, Lord" wasn't an invitation to buck and shout, but a testament (without the actual testimony) that she definitely had a serious relationship with God. She wasn't merely infusing gospel in with the jazz set, making people wonder if she was confused, or unsure of her niche. It didn't seem as if she was groping for her own sound by tackling different genres. She didn't slip it in as if to say, "Oh, by the way, surprise, I'm a Christian, and I sneaked in here to save everybody on the DL". There was honesty in her delivery. There was no need for apologies, theological bull, or excuses to the saints, as to why she was in Blues Alley (and the saints were obviously there). It was clear that this young lady knows exactly who she is; her calling is sure, and wherever she goes, she need not alter herself to appease anyone.
Every song told a story; rose purely from her soul, and the peaceful, joyous look on her face said it all. From Brian Blade's arrangement of "Afro Blue", to the soulful "Soon As I Get Home", Lizz captivated the audience. She flashed a magnificent smile that said she was enjoying where the songs were taking her, and we were going along for the ride.
"Open your eyes, you can fly!" Ok, Lizz. I believe you, child. When she nodded to her pianist to play, "Salt", it was clear that everyone had been waiting for it. The CD delivers that little sermon-in-a-song marvelously, but Mizz Lizz put a little extra contralto stank on it at the Alley.
Poor thing tried to leave the stage when her set was done, but everyone was on their feet, clapping and cheering, and literally making it impossible for her to maneuver her way to the staircase to her dressing room. All she could do was turn around and take the stage for one last song- like we wanted her to. She laughed as she took the mike, and said we blocked her in on purpose. Yeah, we probably did.
Mel Prince was handling sound for the evening, and Lizz and her trio had just the right balance. The 10:00 crowd was milling in and I realized I was still in my seat trying to decide whether my credit card could take another hit. Andrea, Lisa, and I had the good fortune to meet Lizz, and I have to admit, I haven't been so psyched about an autograph in a long time.
"What is it", you ask? You don't get it? Frankly, I just appreciate good singing. If you're looking to follow up the cabbage patch with the new electric slide, the Salt CD's not for you. If you're looking for a lot of smoke, mirrors, and visuals that make you forget there's singing going on, Lizz live is not for you. If you know how to get into a zone where you just want to be moved, need a little encouragement, or just want to applaud a young lady who is using her powers for good, then try a pinch of Salt. I can only imagine her getting better over the years. I hope her label, Verve, is investing for the duration.
Check Lizz out on "Till Then", pianist Danilo Perez's new release, and revisit her on Joe Sample's "Pecan Tree". She'll be at the Birchmere [in Alexandria VA] on Monday, December 1, at 7:30. Taste for yourself, if you don't want to take somebody's mother's word for it.
As soon as I saw the name, you immediately came to mind. I was made aware of Lizz Wright through you... AFTER you'd showered all of Georgia Avenue with her cd (haha!) so of course, I bought my own because you were so enthusiastic -- and we all know how you love quality music. I wasn't disappointed then and I'm not disappointed now.
ReplyDeleteHer music is for every ear.