Preface
The composer Mauricio Kagel once told me the following story. He did so from memory, and I do so too, so the details may be a little loose. Kagel said, ‘We were at a music festival and there were some English visitors nearby who were debating who was the best singer. Callas, Tebaldi and Scotto were mentioned, and Gigli and Wunderlich and so on. I said to them, “Excuse me. What about Ella Fitzgerald ?” They laughed and then they agreed that she was the best singer ever. I think they did that to humour me, except for one man who replied, “But she is not a singer, she is a vocalist. When I hear her I listen to the voice, not the song. Ella Fitzgerald is milk-and-water compared to someone like Billie Holiday. Holiday is a singer”’. Kagel said that until that point he had not noticed in English the different meaning of singer and vocalist: ‘I thought more of singer or reciter’.
It is not only the Englishman who thought of Ella Fitzgerald in terms of milk-and-water who would be interested in this book; the whole bar would surely take it up too. The examination of Fitzgerald and her ‘wholesome demeanour’ here is innovative and one that would intrigue the milk-and-water critic, especially as his comparison is made with Billie Holiday, though the debate here lies at a far less superficial level than his.
Aaron Lefkovitz’s engaging analysis examines the ‘power compromises’ that affect three jazz celebrated singers on whom so much has been written, although not exactly with this approach. Josephine Baker (1906-75), Billie Holiday (1915-59) and Ella Fitzgerald (1917-96) encountered the injustices of racism and reacted to its manifestations in ways related each to their background and circumstance. But, as Lefkovitz writes, Baker, Holiday, and Fitzgerald demonstrate that ‘no matter how high a female performer of color rises, she still must contend with colonialism’s influence on her films, image, and popular music’. Facing stereotypes that perpetuate myths and inequalities, the performers each negotiate their way through these to stardom by which the freedom to assert autonomy may be achieved, although compromise, like power, is pervasive and in a constant state of diplomacy even there.
Lefkovitz considers their personas but also their output, and I was astonished as to how many films they and their cohort artists appeared in (I always puzzled over Lena Horne’s ‘sections’ in which she seemed to be slotted in, to find here that this was a deliberate way to slot her out for the Southern States market). There is much here that is healthily contentious, but the arguments are backed by a wealth of references to the work of musicians of color up to the present, and a comprehensive breadth of connections across genres. Above all, Lefkovitz turned me back, in a YouTube way, to the very work of these wonderful singers.
Richard Witts
Professor of Music
Edge Hill University
Liverpool, England