Jazzy Vocals From Across the Musical Spectrum

Definitions of jazz singing are so hard to come by that it sometimes can be fun to forget about preconceived guidelines and just check out what, so to speak, is in the grooves (or, more digitally, the bits and bytes). And sifting through some current releases affords an interesting view of how effectively jazz elements, in varying degrees and quantities, play significant roles in a surprisingly wide array of music.

Let’s start with a few albums from that rarest of current quantities, male singers:

Joe Williams, “A Man Ain’t Supposed to Cry” (** 1/2, Label M Vocal Classics): Williams was a certified jazz artist, of course, with solid blues credentials as well. But his fans knew, from early on, that he also was a superb ballad singer. This collection, recorded in 1957, gave him the opportunity to do an entire program of ballads, ranging from standards such as “What’s New?” and “I’ll Never Smile Again” to the then-newly written Gimbel & Lain title track. Williams’ voice is warm and muscular, but his readings sound a bit stiff and over-controlled, and his natural sense of loose and easy swing is largely subverted by Jimmy Mundy’s well-meaning but overly saccharine string settings.

Michael Feinstein, “Romance on Film, Romance on Broadway” (***, Concord Jazz): Feinstein comes at jazz from the opposite direction. Yet, accompanied in this two-CD set by several groups of sterling jazz artists, his cabaret-oriented style is modified just enough to result in one of his finest outings, regardless of definition. As the title suggests, one CD is devoted to film songs, the other to material from Broadway. And, characteristically for Feinstein, he often includes the valuable introductory verses, occasionally--as in “Isn’t It Romantic?”--adding previously unheard lyrics. The material is sheer Classic American Songbook: “The More I See You,” “As Time Goes By,” “The Way You Look Tonight,” etc., from films; “They Say It’s Wonderful,” “I’ve Grown Accustomed to Her Face,” “My Funny Valentine,” etc., from Broadway. And the arrangements--mostly written by Alan Broadbent and John Oddo for small, four- to six-piece ensembles, performed by players such as Bucky Pizzarelli, Chuck Berghofer, Peter Erskine and Gary Foster, among others--are crafted to support Feinstein with beautifully understated jazz subtlety.

The same, in somewhat different fashion is true of guitarist-singer John Pizzarelli’s newest CD, “Let There Be Love” (***, Telarc Jazz). Once again positioned, for the most part, in the company of his regular trio (with Ray Kennedy on piano and Pizzarelli’s brother Martin on bass), Pizzarelli sounds loose and relaxed, singing and playing his way through a 15-song program of relatively brief readings. Most are driven by the trio’s buoyant rhythmic drive, occasionally supplemented by Harry Allen’s suave tenor saxophone, Ken Peplowski’s clarinet and Jesse Levy’s cello. Pizzarelli’s light, conversational tenor is one of the most amiable sounds in the jazz vocal field, as comfortable with the balladry of “Everything I Have Is Yours” as with the quirky lyrics of “I’m Putting All My Eggs in One Basket.”

Moving into the vocal ensemble area, the Manhattan Transfer can almost always be relied upon for, at the very least, an intriguing musical outing. But “The Spirit of St. Louis” (*** 1/2, Atlantic Records) is a lot more. In fact, the album is a distinct departure from what the group has done in the past, largely as a result of the presence of producer Craig Street, whose unusual approach to creating personalized tapestries of sound was responsible for two of Cassandra Wilson’s breakout CDs. Subtitled “A Celebration of Louis Armstrong,” the Manhattan Transfer album embraces such familiar items as “Do You Know What It Means to Miss New Orleans” as well as the considerably lesser-known “Old Man Mose” and “Nothing Could Be Hotter Than That” (adapted from Lillian Armstrong’s “Hotter Than That”). Street’s production frames the quartet in settings filled with unusual sounds--ruminative rumblings, briskly bouncing rhythms, atmospheric accordion tones, shuffling-sounding percussion, unexpected fade-ins, etc. The vocalists respond superbly, doing everything they do best via individual soloing, lush harmonic togetherness, whimsically humorous back and forth passages, and the meticulous interpretation of lyrics that has always made them more than just another jazz-tinged vocal harmony group. Their best album since, “Brasil,” “The Spirit of St. Louis” rings with Grammy Award potential.

Monica Mancini would probably be the last to accept the jazz singer label. But her linkage to the genre is strong, in part through her father’s constant love of the music, in part through her husband, jazz drummer Gregg Field. And her new album, “The Dreams of Johnny Mercer” (***, Concord Jazz), further enhances the connection via a gorgeously produced examination of a composer much loved and much performed by jazz artists. Mancini quickly underscores the connection in the very first track via a technical tour de force through “Ac-cent-tchu-ate the Positive”, in which she sings lead as well as most of the vocal parts in a cappella accompaniment. And her reading of “Skylark,” sung with extraordinary attention to both its musical and lyrical qualities--accompanied only by Mike Lang’s piano--is a classic, a model of interpretive singing, regardless of genre. Mancini also displays the characteristic Mercer wit and humor in the lighthearted “The Weekend of a Private Secretary,” a blues-tinged “On the Atchison, Topeka and the Santa Fe” and “It Had Better Be Tonight.” (On the latter, she combines Mercer’s original with Franco Migliacci’s Italian version, “Meglio Stasera.”) Good as the album is, however, it would have been even better with fewer “new” Mercer numbers--his lyrics set to music by Barry Manilow. Aside from the appealing “When October Goes,” the songs have too little Mercer and too much Manilow. But, as with the other material, Mancini’s smooth-as-velvet voice brings sweet meaning to everything she touches.

Last, but not least, there is Monika Brand. And, yes, the name is unfamiliar. At 25, working mostly around New York City, Brand is virtually unknown. But her first album, “Love” (***, on her own label, available solely from https://www.monikabrand.com) is the work of a talented, potentially important young artist. Like Jane Monheit, she has a surprisingly mature understanding of the elements of jazz; unlike Monheit, she has not been the beneficiary of a major marketing campaign. Perhaps even more importantly, Brand has composed all her material, and most of it is both impressive and memorable. Her voice, with its slight buzz, has the unique sound one hopes for in a jazz singer, and Brand hums and scats with a firm understanding of the harmonic flow of the music. As with any maiden outing, the album has its ups and downs, but the pluses far outweigh the few missteps, and the entire project radiates with the presence of a talent with a major future.