Here's one indisputable truth about Cassandra Wilson: She is
the most original jazz vocalist of her generation. Her husky,
honey-dipped voice can deliver a song in a lilting sashay that
doesn't as much seduce as testify--about life, love and how far
down the road of misery passion will lead you. The divorcee and
single mother sings with the echo of truth, with a knowledge of
love and pain that comes from the gut.
For most of her ten-year career, Wilson was considered to be on
the fringes of jazz singing--too avantgarde to venture into
standard territory. Her early albums in the 1980's on the German
jazz label JMT were intriguing to jazz aficionados but considered
a hard sell to a general audience. All that changed in 1993, the
year she signed with the legendary Blue Note label.
Teamed up with producer Craig Street, Wilson recorded her
breakthrough album Blue
Light `til Dawn in 1993 and bowled over
critics and fans alike. Her startling interpretations of songs by
composers as diverse as Robert Johnson and Joni Mitchell finally
brought her the attention she deserved from a general audience.
Hence her new album, New
Moon Daughter, is destined to bring her
into the mainstream.
Dreadlocked and radiant, Wilson carries herself with down-home
regality. Hervoice is so lush, it's easy to get lost in its sound.
In person, she is as soulful and sophisticated as the voice that
emanates from her.
Wilson lives in a spacious Harlem apartment, colorfully decorated
with paintings by artist friends. Most of her downtime is spent
raising Jaris, her 6-year-old son, and getting recharged for the
rigors of the road. Like most working mothers, she often feels a
little guilty seeing the hurt in Jaris's eyes whenever she hits
the road to pay the bills. But "theroad" is an essential
part of making a living as a singer, and that alone makes his
childhood a unique one--and far different from her own.
Wilson, 40, was born and raised in Jackson, Mississippi, a member
of a tight-knit southern Black family who nurtured in her both a
passion for music and a sense of the sacred.
"My mother says I sang `Jesus Loves Me' at a Sunday-school
program so loud they were embarrassed. They could hear my voice
above all the other children's," Wilson recalls. "Mama
said I threw back my head, opened my mouth real wide and was
almost screaming. My grandmother sang, too, and she was really
loud. She couldn't really hold pitch, and it was this wild
kind of singing. I count her among my influences. I remember
being small and looking at her like, 'What are you singing?' She
had so much passion. It didn't matter to her that she couldn't
sing on key."
Besides touching Wilson with the power of her voice, Wilson's
grandmother made sure her family not only kept the faith but also
kept it real.
"My grandmother brought that into our home simply because
of who she was and how she lived. She was a devout Christian, but
she was also a woman who practiced some other old-time religion.
She was always out in the woods until she was in her eighties.
She was a gardener most of her life, but she would take a sojourn
daily out into the woods where she would gather herbs. She
understood herbs. She never went to a doctor in her life."
When Wilson was 12 her grandmother passed away, but she believes
her grandmother's spiritual influence grew stronger after she died.
"Her presence became really strong a couple of years ago,"
says Wilson. "I began to smell all her smells again, like the
smells she had in her room. My favorite memory is sleeping on her
couch in her bedroom and the curtains blowing over me at night.
I remember that as being a truly magical feeling. I always felt
really warm, protected and very close to God. There was a train
that would come by every night, and I'd hear the whistle blow.
That is the sweetest memory I have."
If Wilson's grandmother supplied the grounding that kept her
strong and moving in the right direction, it was her father who
nurtured her desire to become a serious musician. A multi-
instrumentalist who began as a bassist and branched out to cello,
violin, classical guitar and saxophone, Herman Fowlkes played
professionally until the time of Cassandra's birth. He had even
passed up an opportunity to tour with Ray Charles because of
family obligations. For most of her life, he worked as a postman,
playing his music on the side.
"He had all kinds of instruments in the house that he would
hide from my mother," recalls Wilson. "He bought them
through mail order. I was his confidante. I was never interested
in singing in the church choir or in school. I was more interested
in becoming a musician. I wanted to do what Daddy did. Anything
Daddy did I wanted to do.Daddy was always playing the hi-fi when
I was 7 or 8, so rather than the Top 40, there were always the
latest Miles Davis, Nancy Wilson, Johnny Mathis, Ella Fitzgerald,
Cannonball Adderley and Thelonious Monk records. Miles's Sketches
of Spain was something I listened to a lot. I wore that album out."
In high school Wilson discovered folk artists like Joan Baez, Judy
Collins and Joni Mitchell. After high school, she played guitar
and
sang throughout Mississippi, New Orleans and other parts of the
South.
Although music was her passion, she attended college to please her
parents and received a degree in communications. After graduating,
she moved to New Orleans and began a career in broadcasting as the
assistant public-affairs director at a local TV station and gigged
on the side. With every intention of finding employment as a
television producer, Wilson gave up the idea of becoming a singer
full-time. Fortunately for the world of music, television never
gave Wilson a chance.
"I started performing again when I couldn't get a job,"
says Wilson."Music became the alternative, because it was the
only other thing I knew how to do and had experience in. I had done
things the way my mother had envisioned things should be done. I'd
gone back to college and became an AKA, and I did those things
largely to please her. But there was also a part of me that didn't
believe I could make it big in the music business. All those years
of my mother saying you need something to fall back on had made
an
impact. She was speaking out of her own experience, of course, and
since she couldn't imagine anyone making a living doing music, I
couldn't imagine it either."
In the early eighties Wilson moved to New York and became a regular
in various local jam sessions. That's when her real education began.
"At that time I was really into Betty Carter. I imagined that
I was a great scat singer, so on my first gigs I was oversinging.
One night the bass player leaned over and said, 'Stroll.' I didn't
know what he meant, so I kept on singing. Finally he stopped
whispering and said out loud, 'Hey, don't you know what stroll
means? It means lay out! I'll never forget that. It was my first
big lesson in New York. I learned a whole lot in those days about
sharing the spotlight, communicating with the band, dealing with
musicians, getting your chops together."
In this period, she also met several musicians who would become
lifelong friends and collaborators. Among them was the brilliant
young saxophonist Steve Coleman, whose computer-literate approach
to jazz composition and arrangement would have an important impact
on Wilson's jazz aesthetic."Coleman and I met in 1982 at a
session where a big band he was in was doing all Charlie
["Bird"] Parker music. I called out one of Bird's most
difficult tunes, 'Cherokee.' Coleman was impressed by a singer
asking the band to play 'Cherokee,' and we've been friends ever
since. We talked that night for two or three hours. I remember
saying that Bird is great, it's all about Bird, and Steve saying,
'No, that's not what it's all about, because, yes, Bird was great,
but Bird is dead.' Him being an alto player, I couldn't believe
he didn't worship Bird. But he said, 'Yeah, I'm into Bird, but I'm
also into developing the music.' 
"Steve told me, 'You'll never accomplish anything in this
music if you imitate people. Bird and Sarah Vaughan have already
said what they're going to say. You need to say what you're
supposed to say. Who are you'? You have to develop an individual
sound. I can help you do that.' "It was really challenging,
but I felt empowered by learning how to deal with Steve's music.
He always expected me to be able to do that. I appreciated that
about him. He was so advanced, but he respected what I brought to
the music--the intuitive aspect of my approach."
When Wilson began recording solo in 1985, she continued to refine
and redefine her approach to jazz singing. Unlike many of her
contemporaries, however, she eschews most of the traditional
accoutrements and accompaniments of the conventional female jazz
singer. In fact, she doesn't even like the term.
"I've often cringed when I heard myself described as a
'jazz singer.' I've always thought of myself as a jazz vocalist
and not a jazz singer, if you understand the difference. That's
not
to malign the tradition of jazz singers at all. But I think there's
a certain attitude and stigma attached to 'jazz singer,' whether
warranted or not. To me it means always having to wear gowns, heels
and nice jewelry and having your hair straightened and only singing
standards and representing elegance--always--and I just can't get
with any of that."
Instead Wilson is an original who is not afraid to risk alienating
traditionalists by creating her own school of jazz vocals. She draws
her songs from diverse composers--from country blues to folk pop
to
rock.
"I really enjoy folk-pop stuff. When I first began performing,
my repertoire consisted of songs by Judy Collins, Bob Dylan, Buffy
Sainte-Marie, people like that," she says. "When I moved
to New Orleans, I became the lead singer for an all-White blues
band.
These guys were straight-up hillbillies, but they could really play
some blues."Still, Wilson is never one to forget her roots. Her
interpretation of Billie Holiday's "Strange Fruit" on New
Moon Daughter is poignant and haunting. "I had to draw on things
my mother told me about growing up in Mississippi," says Wilson.
"When I perform those lyrics you can hear a pin drop. My
audiences want to hear and feel those words."
With the release of New Moon Daughter, more and more Wilson fans
will undoubtedly hear and feel the magic that she brings to every
song she sings. Her originality, deep feeling and adventurous song
selection seem destined to broaden her base of support to the BET
and MTV generation. Long may her spirit and music thrive.
Greg Tate is a staff writer for the Village Voice and a founding
member
of The Black Rock Coalition.
Author: George Tate
Source: Essence, July 1996 v27 n3 p60(4)
COPYRIGHT Essence Communications Inc. 1996
