Wesla Whitfield is not among those cabaret performers of a few years ago who have recently re-surfaced on the sales charts as jazz singers.
Whitfield, in fact, has been in the once-scorned jazz camp for most of her long career, and with her husband, Mike Greensill, has been instrumental in broadening and enhancing the cabaret repertoire to include all manner of American popular songs – such as those of Irving Berlin, Harold Arlen, Duke Ellington – which were ignored by those who concentrated on such sophisticates as Cole Porter and Noel Coward.
Though she grew up in the central coast town of Santa Maria, California, Whitfield was singing both popular and classical material in San Francisco by the mid-1970s. She sang in light-opera and Broadway productions, performed in musical-comedy troupes, survived the Edith Piaf and Jacque Brel folk-cabaret era, and for years has played the coast-to coast and trans-Atlantic cabaret circuit (Plush Room, Hollywood/Roosevelt Cinegrill, Algonquin Hotel, The Nest, Pizza on the Park, and all that).
Whitfield has appeared in concerts coast-to-cast, she’s broadcast on “Prairie Home Companion,” “Weekend Edition,” “Fresh Air,"“All Things Considered,” “Piano Jazz” as well as recording regularly and establishing a loyal, extensive following.
As long as San Franciscans have been listening to Whitfield – and a number of years before she teamed up with her husband, pianist Mike Greensill – she has approached each song in the manner that a sculptor handles a mound of clay – or a seasoned jazz instrumentalist handles a new song or chart. She makes friends with a piece of music, treating the melody, harmony and rhythm (but not the lyrics) as variables – ingredients that can be dealt with on their own, or collectively, to produce an enhanced, distinctly personal rendition.
With Greensill as an arranger, pianist and ensemble leader, Whitfield feels comfortable, singing as she wishes against appropriate instrumental accompaniment. Many’s the youngish singer who records relatively new material (selected by a company producer) accompanied by studio musicians playing lavish arrangements, only to find that she (or he) cannot relax when singing – and spending weeks and weeks assembling an hour’s worth of recorded material in the studio is ridiculous.
Listen, for instance, to Whitfield’s “Dance Medley” (Track 10) with Greensill’s clever “Christopher Columbus” reference in the intro, followed by the swinging vocals on “You’re Easy to Dance With”, and “It Only Happens When I Dance with You” – the first from the early 1950s, the latter a few years earlier. Every nuance, every inflection of the voice is a part of the overall musical presentation.
The dance theme continues with “Change Partners,” from Irving Berlin’s “Carefree” 1938 movie score, sung in an intimate, in-your-ear manner, it’s a logical conclusion piece for the quite delightful seven minute “dance” sequence.
Fourteen of these 17 Berlin songs are from the 1930s and 40s – the fourth and fifth decades of more than 60 years of song writing. For many observers, these were his most brilliant and imaginative period, with great, memorable, songs written for films, for Broadway shows and for the pop-music, Hit Parade audience.
These decades bridged the two World Wars. Berlin wrote popular songs for both conflicts, just as he had documented America’s musical transition from popular ragtime (“Alexander’s Ragtime Band,” “Everything in America is Ragtime”) to the post-World War I jazz era – stuff like “I Love A Piano,” “Mandy,” or the forgotten but lyrically prophetic, “Send a Lot of Jazz Bands Over There,” from 1918. (The U.S. government didn’t get around to sponsoring overseas tours by jazz bands until the 1950s).
From the 20’s, the Whitfield-Greensill team here performs “Remember,” “Blue Skies,” and “How About Me?” – the first pair classic Berlin material that have lasted as standards into the 21st century, although Berlin threatened to bring suit in the 30s against swing bands which he thought ruined such of his songs as “Remember” and “Blue Skies.” He quieted down when the royalty checks started rolling in.
However, he would have loved Whitfield’s contemplative version of “Remember,” and this slick, tight arrangement of “Blue Skies” also might well meet with his approval.
Whitfield’s singing of “Moonshine Lullaby,” a strangely forgotten gem from Berlin’s finest musical, “Annie Get Your Gun,” is classic stuff, and “Say It Isn’t So,” as well as “How Deep In The Ocean,” both from 1932, are also gorgeously performed. All three are proof of Berlin’s song-writing genius.
On two of this CDs selections Greensill’s quartet becomes a quintet with the addition of Marty Wehner’s effective trombone. The quartet, with the effervescent Greensill on piano, included top-drawer musicians Gary Foster on tenor and also saxes, clarinet and flute, the estimable John Wiitala on string bass, and the vastly underrated drummer Vince Lateano.
Berlin was an active songwriter (usually both words and music) for 60 of his 101 years – from 1907 ‘til 1967. He died in 1989. He was the all-American popular songwriter, always able to document the nation’s needs, moods, anxieties and news events in song.
These notes were begun on the Labor Day weekend, 2001. The World Trade Center attacks came eight days later. By the second weekend after Labor Day, the nation was singing Irving Berlin’s “God Bless America.”
-- Philip Elwood
San Francisco Chronicle |