OK, here it is: I hate to get dressed for a gig. I should probably be more specific. I intensely dislike the process of getting the glamour on for a performance. The business of hair, make-up and fashion is bewildering to me. I’ve said it many times before; I find the feminine arts to be, well, stressful. This has been a lifelong difficulty for me. I’ve always been too big and clunky to fit into our cultural ideal of beauty. I have broad shoulders, a…
A few weeks ago, I was hanging out at Tula’s, chatting it up with a jazz musician pal. We were talking about jazz venues around the area. The name of one particular club came up and he dismissed it because “they only book chick singers.” Chick singers. And he said it as if it were a bad thing. While I don’t want to jump back into the conversation about the curious relationship between jazz vocalists and musicians, I will say that I respectfully disagree with…
Hoo-rah! Tonight is the first meeting of a four week scat workshop with my much beloved teacher and jazz musician extraordinaire Greta Matassa. I signed up for this well over a month ago and am happy and excited to get started tonight. When it comes to scat singing, Greta is a nuclear missile. She’s also one of the sharpest teachers around, and there’s no doubt in my mind that this is going to be a great workshop. Scat singing mesmerizes me. Throughout the years, I…
