Deep Questions

Yesterday a DJ, El Leon in Sacramento, wrote to me and told me he's been playing my album consistently on his station. He asked me to answer some questions about my music—and they're really thoughtful: "Why do you sing? How do you feel about the women in Latin Jazz? In particular, how have the men of Latin Jazz treated/accepted you? Have you been treated well by your peers and how does your audience react toward you and your music?"

Why do I sing? Well, I always have. My earliest memories are of Ella Fitzgerald singing the Cole Porter songbook, a two-record set my parents had. But unlike Nancy Wilson, who just automatically got support from everyone to sing, I had to struggle a bit, so was often in a choir to avoid being branded a show-off. Even so, I kept doing it, singing in all sorts of situations (classical/opera, chamber music, Renaissance, show tunes) that weren’t my first choice, but struggling to find my niche. At some point I realized I had to stop being in choirs and focus on solo performance, as the choir work was hurting my voice—but I still love singing close harmonies. Over time as an artist you figure out what makes you different and what you do best, and you focus on that—but I’ve always been a person who likes to do a million things at once, so ultimately I tried to incorporate that into my music and celebrate the diversity of the Americas.

But also it would be interesting to look into theories as to why humans sing. I mean, I don’t think chimps or gorillas sing, do they? I find it fascinating how different animals resemble or reflect or complement different human characteristics. Dogs have always coexisted with humans, as shepherds/guards/companions. There are all sorts of scavenging animals that always live with human populations—and actually I kind of admire them for that, picking up after our mess. And humans have always loved birds—look at all our poetry and paintings. I think there, too, is a similarity that we are drawn to. Birds sing, and humans sing. Who knows why, but we do—we must. I’m sure someone’s written some theory about this.

As for women in Latin Jazz, I’m not sure I’ve had enough experience to say. There aren’t too many female band leaders out there, that’s for sure. And when you’re the only woman and the rest of the players are men, there are two factors—your gender, and the age difference. I’m not that young, but I am generally a bit younger than those I’m playing with and so it’s always hard to judge what is experience talking—and something to be respected—and what is a father figure talking—and something to be met as an equal. I like to choose my battles and I’m generally pretty easy going, but I guess the more I play and the more musicians I work with, the better sense I’ll have of how to deal with the many situations that come up as a band leader.

I’m thrilled with how my peers have treated me. I have made so many friends in music, especially through Jazz Camp and Brazil Camp and going to study in Cuba. Guitarist Vince Mansel, with whom I’ve collaborated a lot, called me up to wish me well the other day for my gig tonight at Pearls. It was the sweetest thing. I told him he always has been my best coach.

Audience reaction is generally great, though there are those gigs and rooms where it just doesn’t happen. I just read something in the Jazz Education Journal, Dee Dee Bridgewater saying that every audience is different, even in the same club, from one night to the next it’s different, and you need to play to the audience you have. It’s a conversation. You have to listen.

Wow. In answering them, I realize these are deep questions!