Tags
Last night my wife and I had the pleasure of seeing Cassandra Wilson perform at the Max M. Fisher Music Center in Detroit.
Her concert was held in Orchestra Hall, a venue that seats about 2000. The architecture of the Hall is classified as Neo-Renaissance, which basically means that it’s pretty.
I’d never heard any of the lady’s music, and really didn’t know what to expect.
By the end of the concert she had me.
Five musicians backed her up; piano, electric bass, guitar, percussion and harmonica. That’s right… harmonica. The musicians were all accomplished, but I was impressed by the guitarist the most. He was a bit punchy on some songs, but during his solos I kept looking at the other musicians, thinking they MUST be playing along with him. There was no way that a guitar could make all those different sounds at once.
The lineup was unstructured, so unplanned that the percussionist broke into song at one point while he danced behind his drums. It was a spontaneous revelation of whatever seemed to pop into Ms. Wilson’s head. And there was no doubt that she was in charge.
During a musician’s solo she would walk behind the group smiling radiantly and gesturing like a ballerina. Other times she would just sit down, with her eyes closed and head bobbing, dreads swaying. But when the time came she would always give some unseen signal that it was time to move on.
The music was a mixture that defied classification. Everything from blues to Cajun to jazz, with people in the audience calling out for “Wichita Lineman” at one point. The Glen Campbell song? A piece would, in fact, frequently transition from one genre to another, without pause or warning. Every song was rendered in her own unique style, which I could only describe as joyful abandonment to the music.
And her voice?
The tone of her voice stretched from breathy innocence to full-throated “take care of stuff” woman. She displayed an amazing vocal range that extended from the middling scale of soprano to the deepest of contralto. I started out sitting back and relaxed, but ended up sitting on the edge of my seat with my head cocked to the side… entranced and wanting to hear more. When the music stopped, I still sat there… not ready to believe it was over.
Cassandra Wilson? I’m a fan now.
T. W. Dittmer 
Sounds like a great time, Tim! I love concerts that are more like jam sessions – engages the audience more, and makes fans out of skeptics. 😉
P.S. You’ve got me listening to her on YouTube as I write this, so thank you.
LikeLike
Cassandra’s worth the listen. She stole my heart.
LikeLike
Love this ‘The tone of her voice stretched from breathy innocence to full-throated “take care of stuff” woman’ 🙂
LikeLike
It ran the gamut. It was hard for me to describe without falling into my old argot.
LikeLike
New word for me – argot. Hit me with your best argot I say, and let’s see if I understand it 🙂
LikeLike
She was fuckin’ beautiful.
LikeLike
Ha ha – I understand !!
LikeLike
Argot is a poor choice of words. Patois or the plain-ass crude descriptions of the uneducated would be closer to the truth.
She broke me, slipped through the wire. The heat of her heart was right there. I tried to grab it, but you can’t snatch that switch. You gotta bask, like white people in the sun.
LikeLike
Some lines from your next book methinks….
LikeLike
What a wonderful evening- you describe it so well; I almost feel like I was there!
LikeLike
It was great.
LikeLike
Sounds like fun. I’m going to see Rigoletto tomorrow. A little different, still in a fancy concert hall. I’m excited, it’s my first time going to see Verdi.
LikeLike
They tried, but my professors could never give me a love of opera. (Shrug) Gary, Indiana boy.
LikeLike
It’s not for everyone, though going is half the fun. They sell sippie cups for your booze! And candy. God I want to slap people with their wrappers. One time, there were sexy philistines, and Mozart is always raunchy.
LikeLike
Sippie cups! I think it’s the visual of opera competing with the music, too much for me. Verdi came the closest to capture.
LikeLike
Did you see Tosca perhaps? If not, find the post I did on it. The part where Scarpia is singing in the cathedral is amazing. Also, La Traviata is way better with prat falls.
Though, I could see it being too much. I’m generally two beers (or one martini) along. Perhaps the drinking helps. There’s a garish production of The Pearl Fishers going around right now. That I could have just listened to.
LikeLike
Did she sing Tupelo Honey? I love her voice. Thanks for the introduction!
LikeLike
She didn’t do Tupelo Honey, though the audience called for it. Hell, she was still great.
LikeLike
Listening to her on Pandora right now. I wish I could sing.
LikeLike
Oh, me too… wish I could sing that is.
LikeLike
What a lovely evening out for you and your wife. Your description of the performance was wonderful. I found Ms. Wilson on YouTube and put on Time After Time before heading to the kitchen to help hubby with dinner. I thought I would be hearing the Frank Sinatra classic and was pleasantly surprised to hear the Cyndi Lauper song. Then we listened to Last Train to Clarksville (The Monkees). Wow, she can jazzify anything. 🙂 Hubby liked her, too.
LikeLike
Like I said, people in the audience were calling for “Wichita Lineman”, a country/kinda-rock song. Glad you guys liked her.
LikeLike
Awesome, I love your description of this experience. 🙂
LikeLike
Thanks, La La Laura. She took me prisoner. No shots fired.
LikeLike
I enjoy Cassandra Wilson’s music and style- She’s full-blooded Jazz– never know what’s coming but you know it’s gonna be good. Great job of describing the feelings of one of her concerts!
LikeLike
Just listened to “Red River Valley”. So different but still her.
LikeLike
Wow…she has an incredible voice! Thanks for the recommend. Just added one of her albums to my amazon wish list. I’m a sucker for those strong jazzy voices.
LikeLike
🙂
LikeLike