In times of upheaval, I lean on touchstones–works of art that have shaped me and the continue to be sources of inspiration, influence, and solace. It might be rereading a favorite novel, a cherished poem, a movie, or (especially often) a favorite album with a good pair of headphones.
Joe Williams’ reputation – such as he has in 2020, when I fear his legacy is being marginalized – is as the blues singer he was when he started with the the Count Basie Orchestra in 1954. And throughout his career, he excelled as a blues singer – I have long been influenced by his swinging, shouty, impassioned blues interpretations. (A few years ago I arranged his “Every Day” for WMU Gold Company with featured soloist Duane Davis.)
But for my money, Joe Williams spent most of his long life as one of the world’s best interpreters of the American songbook. The Gershwins, Rodgers & Hart, Harold Arlen – his emotional presence, flexible voice, and keen intellect made him the perfect deliverer of these songs, in my opinion, and that he isn’t mentioned in the same breath as Tony Bennett or Frank Sinatra as a standards singer is a failure of our society.
Joe Williams released Here’s To Life, his penultimate album, released at the age of 76 in 1994. He died five years later in 1999. (I had just seen him live at the Detroit Jazz Festival in 1993, with the Basie Band on one of their many reunion concerts.) The album is a collection of standards and new standards, including the title track, which was given to him by the composer/lyricist duo, and later adopted and recorded by Shirley Horn after she heard Williams sing it live.
The album is bookmarked by “Here’s To Life” – beginning with the beautiful full orchestra version, arranged by Robert Farnon, and ending with an intimate duo version with George Shearing. The versions are both beautiful and so very different.
The rest of the album is flirtatious, sentimental, romantic – fitting his style like a glove, and with lush orchestral arrangements from the legendary Farnon. If my CD had been an LP, the grooves would have been worn out – that’s how much I listened to it. Williams floats, he finds the space between the notes and the room to maneuver amidst the rich orchestrations.
Nancy Wilson sings a song, “An Older Man is Like an Elegant Wine” – and that, to me, is Joe Williams’ late-career singing. He continued to evolve, deepen, and mature throughout his long career singing, and this album’s rich interpretations are what make it a touchstone for me. I’ll never sing like Joe Williams, but his approach to singing and interpreting song nonetheless sits at the very core of the musician I strive to be.
Touchstones is an ongoing series of posts I’ll be writing during the COVID-19 season, reflecting on the works of art that support me in times of upheaval. I encourage you to make a list of your own “touchstones” and if you like, share them with me to publish here.