Lady Day

Feb 5 2016

It’s not the beauty of her voice

it’s the imperfection.

The rasp in her throat.

How she reaches

for that sweet round note,

so achingly close

your own silently tightens

urging her on.

The minor key

she toys with.

But most of all

her restraint.

Holding back, in spite of her strength,

scatting, jazz

a capella.

Like a fast car

idling, cruising, flirting with speed

you’re keen to hear it floored,

pushed

until its smooth powerful purr

betrays the strain.

Full throttle

open road.

So when she finally lets herself go

you feel exquisite release;

spent, like urgent sex,

emptied, cleansed

complete.

You never imagined

the human voice

could contain such power.

That less is more.

Or how grateful you’d be

she takes it slow;

sings

just as she pleases.

The great singers always show restraint, hold their power in reserve. They have the confidence of an effortless voice, and understand the power of anticipation – holding back, making you wait.

I tried to write this piece without using the word “catharsis”, a word that seemed too bloodless and analytical for poetry. But it’s exactly what I was getting at.

There is also a sexual subtext here (or maybe not so “sub”!):  of sexual release; of female empowerment (especially the last 2 lines).

The only contemporary singer that immediately comes to mind (and I hardly know anything about popular music!) might be Adele. Or maybe the jazz version of Amy Winehouse. Or K.D. Lang, at her best.

But what I really had in mind were the great torch singers and their iconic interpretations of The Great American Songbook – the kind of music I love most. People like Ella Fitzgerald, Billy Holiday, Sarah Vaughn.