Cassandra Wilson

A gifted singer with a dark-toned voice and an unerring sense of rhythm, Cassandra Wilson, 40, has been highly regarded by musicians since her work in the early '80s with avant-garde jazz saxophonist Steve Coleman. Her breakthrough album, the 1994 Grammy-nominated "Blue Light 'Til Dawn," showcased her in a brilliant expansion of the familiar jazz repertoire. "You have to find material that you can get inside of and occupy," she says. "Not every piece can do that for you, and you cannot do that for every piece."

Cassandra Wilson "Thunderbird" (Blue Note) * * * IT'S been three years since we last heard from Cassandra Wilson, and in the opening minutes of "Thunderbird" it's tough to recognize her.

Cassandra Wilson makes a welcome return to her jazz roots in an attractive collection dominated by standard tunes. Her partnership with pianist Jacky Terrasson was a particularly good idea, because both artists seem to enjoy approaching familiar material from an offbeat point of view. "There's really no point in covering standards if you're not going to make them sound fresh or new," says Terrasson, "and I get a kick out of disguising them."

Memo to Al Jarreau: Keep on keeping on. You brought energy, imagination and irrepressible spontaneity to the Hollywood Bowl on Wednesday -- qualities that have been too rare in this summer's uneven series of Bowl jazz concerts. Your versions of "Take Five" and "Spain" continue to be incredible displays of musical virtuosity. Scatting in 5/4, ripping through the disjunct melody of "Spain," doing it all with ease and improvisational invention, are the stuff of primo jazz singing.

Having sailed from standards to futuristic electro-funk on previous albums, Wilson splits the difference here and cements her status as the singer most likely to revitalize the jazz vocal tradition. The focus is on Wilson's agile, textural scatting over the limber funk 'n' swing blend of a piano/electric bass/drums trio. Her style fits that contemporary rhythm context and keeps her pushing open new doors for jazz vocalists.

Maybe it's the recession or a touch of fin de siecle foreboding, but a lot of jazz musicians are getting mighty blue these days. Last year pianist Muhal Richard Abrams recorded "Blu Blu Blu," his acclaimed tribute to Chicago blues giant Muddy Waters, and more recently pianist Randy Weston released "Volcano Blues," a pan-cultural meditation on the blues that features cameo appearances by guitarist-singer Johnny Copeland.

Cassandra Wilson started it. If that sounds accusatory in a finger-pointing way, it's not meant to. Rather it is an attempt to wander back to the source of a circular debate that keeps jazz purists persistently in knots and the pop world head-scratching.

Cassandra Wilson, the alleged jazz vocalist, was driving through her home state of Mississippi recently. She pulled into a Stuckey's and heard, over the tinny speakers that seem always to fill a place with the dopiest of tunes, a musical inspiration--a compelling sound that locked her happily in place. It wasn't Charlie Parker, whose blazing bop vocabulary in the mid-1980s "possessed" Wilson.

After the release four years ago of "New Moon Daughter," the second of two Blue Note albums that propelled Cassandra Wilson from the margins of cultdom to jazz superstar / franchise status, I crawled out on what I thought was a very thin limb and proclaimed that any search for the Next Miles Davis--prohibitive, theoretical or otherwise--should end as of now.

'A song," says Cassandra Wilson, "always tells me what it needs." And Wilson responds to those needs with performances that are casting jazz singing in a dramatically new light. On stage, there is an almost minimalist quality to the way she approaches her music.

Cassandra Wilson started it. If that sounds accusatory in a finger-pointing way, it's not meant to. Rather it is an attempt to wander back to the source of a circular debate that keeps jazz purists persistently in knots and the pop world head-scratching.

The story of the emperor's new clothes kept coming to mind during Cassandra Wilson's concert at the Wiltern Theatre. Listening to her take on Miles Davis' music in a performance that promised so much and delivered so little made one wonder what was stuffing the ears of the jazz media who have given her such complimentary responses for this project. Wilson has done impressive work in the past, especially when she was associated with producer Craig Street.

After the release four years ago of "New Moon Daughter," the second of two Blue Note albums that propelled Cassandra Wilson from the margins of cultdom to jazz superstar / franchise status, I crawled out on what I thought was a very thin limb and proclaimed that any search for the Next Miles Davis--prohibitive, theoretical or otherwise--should end as of now.

Cassandra Wilson makes a welcome return to her jazz roots in an attractive collection dominated by standard tunes. Her partnership with pianist Jacky Terrasson was a particularly good idea, because both artists seem to enjoy approaching familiar material from an offbeat point of view. "There's really no point in covering standards if you're not going to make them sound fresh or new," says Terrasson, "and I get a kick out of disguising them."

Those who believed that Wilson's 1988 collection of standards, "Blue Skies," marked the arrival of a significant new voice in jazz may be disappointed in the singer's latest recording. With only two bona fide jazz standards among the dozen numbers, "New Moon Daughter" breaks down the barriers between musical styles, covering blues, pop and country material as well as five of Wilson's own, hard-to-categorize originals.

Cassandra Wilson is an enigma. An elusive musical mystery. How else to describe a performer who is simultaneously one of the best-selling jazz acts in the world and one of the art's most indefinable practitioners? Wilson's appearance at the Wiltern Theatre on Saturday night was a classic example of her capacity to captivate and distance--to dominate a performing space with the emotional impact of a grande diva while maintaining the demeanor of a shy young woman.

Cassandra Wilson "Thunderbird" (Blue Note) * * * IT'S been three years since we last heard from Cassandra Wilson, and in the opening minutes of "Thunderbird" it's tough to recognize her.

1/2; CASSANDRA WILSON, "After the Beginning Again" ( jMT ) ** Recorded three years ago before her crossover success with "Blue Light 'Til Dawn," the vocalist reveals two elements that are sorely lacking in her current phase: vitality and variety. The album is balanced by the slow tunes like "Redbone" that dominate both her live show and her "Blue Light" album, and necessary upbeat numbers.

'A song," says Cassandra Wilson, "always tells me what it needs." And Wilson responds to those needs with performances that are casting jazz singing in a dramatically new light. On stage, there is an almost minimalist quality to the way she approaches her music.

A gifted singer with a dark-toned voice and an unerring sense of rhythm, Cassandra Wilson, 40, has been highly regarded by musicians since her work in the early '80s with avant-garde jazz saxophonist Steve Coleman. Her breakthrough album, the 1994 Grammy-nominated "Blue Light 'Til Dawn," showcased her in a brilliant expansion of the familiar jazz repertoire. "You have to find material that you can get inside of and occupy," she says. "Not every piece can do that for you, and you cannot do that for every piece."