Cassandra Wilson at the Catalina Jazz Club

Up until yesterday I had a solid assertion that Los Angeles and New York City had one very distinct contrast — New York City had the jazz scene I desired, and Los Angeles did not. There is, of course, a jazz scene that does exist here in Los Angeles — the only problem was that I’d only ever encountered it through venues like the Hollywood Bowl and the Walt Disney Concert Hall; venues that have housed jazz greats like Sonny Rollins and Pat Metheny, but consistently (and perhaps inevitably, because both are formal theaters) maintain a separation between performer and audience. I’m sure that anyone can understand my uncontainable excitement when I went from sitting several rows away from Sonny Rollins at the Walt Disney Concert Hall to several inches away from Jimmy Heath at the Blue Note Jazz Club.

I was pretty convinced that there was no chance in Los Angeles to see the kind of performances I’d seen in the New York City jazz clubs — those crowded, tightly-packed jazz clubs teeming with jazz enthusiasts, the opportunity to be casually sitting inches away from world-renowned jazz performers. Even the slightest bit of hope I’d found in coming across the album Bill Evans Trio At Shelly’s Manne-Hole in the CalArts library was diminished when I learned that the once-popular West Coast club was a thing of the past.

This mentality changed when I was invited to see Cassandra Wilson at the Catalina Jazz Club by Nick Szatmari, jazz bassist as well as an agent at the Universal Attractions Agency, whom I’d met on the airplane heading home from New York City. When I think about it, there’s some coincidental irony here — I just so happened to be wearing a shirt I’d bought at the Birdland Jazz Club, which sparked the conversation with Szatmari. It’s almost as if in some strange turn of events the New York City jazz scene introduced me to the Los Angeles jazz scene.

The Catalina Jazz Club was like nothing I’d ever seen here in Los Angeles. It was — by virtue of its location on Sunset Boulevard in Hollywood, California — one of the larger venues I’ve been to, but it still possessed the same intimate qualities of the jazz clubs I’d visited in New York City.

And then there was Cassandra Wilson. She stepped on stage with a Cleopatra-esque grace, as the musicians beside her began setting up an earthy groove, with such an illuminating presence.

To be honest, I often prefer attending pure instrumental jazz shows over those featuring vocalists because there’s a better chance of the music sounding organic — because more than once I’ve been disappointed when the vocalist (or in some cases, even the bandleader) casts the rest of the band in his shadow to draw more attention to himself. So it was a pleasant surprise to see Wilson back up a few steps when Jonathan Batiste took a wild solo at the piano — however illuminating she was on stage, it still felt like she was an integral part of the musical group rather than solely a featured artist.

I’m going to conclude here with the topic I’ve been struggling to address since I began writing — Wilson’s voice. Exactly how to describe it, I’m not sure — but it possesses that same romantic, whispery tone as Chet Baker in his recording of My Funny Valentine. In fact, many of the pieces she sang that night revolved around the romantic notion of love — Caravan, Lover Come Back to Me, Harvest Moon. Much of the audience, me included, was leaned back, softly sinking into their seats, entranced by that soft, smokey voice of hers.

Here’s one of the first recordings that introduced me to Cassandra Wilson:

Thanks again to Nick Szatmari of Universal Attractions for inviting me to the show.

CURRENTLY LISTENING TO: T.T.T.T. (Twelve Tone Tune Two)/Bill Evans Trio/Tokyo Concert