Am I the only one who still remembers and esteems this album? I bought my copy at Spec’s Music store in Miami the year it was released. I was fourteen years old and listened to the LP so many times that I wore down the grooves on the vinyl, and the record snapped, crackled, and popped every time I played it.
Della Reese had a late career as a TV actor (Chico and the Man, Touched by an Angel). That is probably how people remember her now, if they remember her at all. Most have forgotten that in her youth and young womanhood, she was a singer of rare authority and taste. Her voice lacked the subtlety of Billie Holiday’s or the range of Sarah Vaughan’s. To speak the truth, she was something of a shouter in the tradition of Bessie Smith and Ma Rainey. In fact, I have always suspected that she found models for her vocal style more among the men than the women who preceded her in the popular jazz tradition. When in full flight, she sounded more like Big Joe Williams than anyone else I can think of.
Della Reese Live was recorded at the Western Recorders Studio on Hollywood’s Sunset Boulevard over a Tuesday night in the summer of 1966. According to the liner notes, Tuesday was an off-night for most of the jazz musicians in the Los Angeles area, which made it easy to assemble a group for a one-night stand. All the musicians who appeared on this record were leaders of their own band: Ray Brown on bass, Herb Ellis on guitar, Shelly Manne on drums, Bill Doggett on organ, and Bobby Bryant on trumpet. Bryant had worked with Reese before, and it was he who sketched out the lead sheets for the songs the band played that night. All of the songs were recorded in one take.
Invitations went out to friends and fellow-musicians. Guests gathered at tables set up in the studio, while one of the recording engineers mixed cocktails and opened bottles of beer. Stragglers arrived throughout the evening. Near midnight, once the atmosphere had grown properly festive, the tapes began to roll.
One fascinating aspect of this album is the interplay that can be heard throughout between the singer and her audience. Reese had an uncanny ability to connect with her listeners. Anytime she took the stage, whether in concert hall or TV studio, she had the audience eating out of her hand within five minutes. I think she capitalized on the fact that they could see themselves in her.
Highlights from the album include a tenderly searching version of Herb Ellis’s “Detour Ahead” and a hip, fast-paced performance of “Gotta Travel On.” But my favorite has always been the juicy, rollicking rendition of “Good Morning Blues” that the band put together. There is much to love here, from the M.C.’s suave introduction to Bill Doggett’s extended solo on the Hammond B-3. When I listen to the song now, what really stands out is Shelly Manne’s drumming. Note, in particular, the way he uses the kettle drum like a trampoline to push the music forward from verse to verse.
And then there is Reese’s vocal, full of joy and fatalistic humor. The magic of her performance still seems fresh, sixty years after the recording. So put your headphones on, sit back and relax. Open your ears to the pure pleasure of hearing this seriously underrated singer at the height of her powers, the woman her contemporaries called “Stella Della.” To hear the song, click on the link here.
As a student of jazz and entomology, you may appreciate that my knowledge of jazz might parallel a water skater’s knowledge of what lies beneath the surface of the lake. Until now, Della Reese was just a name from my big brother’s record collection. Your point about the beauty and limitations of her voice is interesting. Love the Hammond organ and the precision of the live performance. Thanks for this, Ed. Keep ’em coming.
Many thanks, Joe–very glad you enjoyed the read and the listen.