It’s an old, old story. Boy-meets-girl/Boy-loses-girl/Boy-spends-the-next-two-years-in-a-miserable-state-and-can-no-longer-abide-the-music-from-his-past-life-so-he-borrows-jazz-albums-from-the-public-library-until-he-regains-equilibrium — it’s almost a cliché, isn’t it?
C’est moi, in the mid-90s, and I am grateful to have made acquaintance with the Jazz Giants. I recall the afternoon I first played
Miles Davis’ treatment of
Porgy & Bess. “
Summertime” was one of those transcendent revelations that happens all too rarely in life. I can still smell the air pouring through the open window.
 |
| 1959? Or 1995? |
Corresponding Giantess: I’m going to have to go with
Ella, even though she protested she was never a “jazz” singer (by which she meant she did not improvise —
although...). She is a jazz singer to my ears, and what she uncovers while delivering
The Cole Porter Songbook is endlessly revelatory.
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