The keyboard facility of Nat King Cole is often overlooked while Diana Krall, whose voice competes with her piano to see which is more risk averse and improvisationally challenged, receives praise for supposed ivory hawt-ness.
Combining two mediocre skill sets does not a great solo artist make.
What's your estimation of half-tempo boredomfest, Cassandra Wilson?
Care to wager her next album, and ten Grammys after that, contain slow and low ("CW has a deep voice *just like* Nina Simone!") covers of Van Morrison tunes which folks of a certain age got laid to at liberal arts college back in the day?
"What? BOB DYLAN?! Jazz me, girl!"
"Here's -- oh my!-- a country song! Clattering rhythm, absence of dynamics will allow me to showcase amateur musicology to a woman young enough to be my daughter. Perhaps mentioning who Hank Williams, Sr. is, and how he died will distract this May love interest from my receding hairline and ample paunch? 'I am engaging and hip! You _could_ learn a lot from me, SWEET THING!' Child support and alimony explain the shabby apartment but, honestly, who could overlook a quality record collection?"
Cassandra murmurs a version of "Last Train to Clarksville" as shapeless as M. Travers's moo moo at Carnegie Hall.
Each different, yet exactly the same. They have to be
"The Monkees were a Beatles knock off. We knew they didn't play their own instruments. Bad taste is an indication of good, see? I appreciated them ironically."
"Do you know what 'irony' means, dear'? 'Education major' you said? I like kids, too." [Oops! Shouldn't have said... Hopefully, she won't peg that Peter, Paul and Mary reference. And, we're passed out from too many wine coolers.]
"I'll get a pillows and a blanket. She already has 'Daddy issues'. Restraint. Maybe I'll get lucky, later?"
Abbey Lincoln and Max Roach shout from heaven: "Your sock drawer needs re-arranging NOOOOOOWWWW!!!! WHAAAA!!!!!!"
That's the reason unmusical pseudo jazz ******** is popular. Forgive the meta role playing scenario. It was the most concise way I could think of to explain. I don't think it demeans any monster talents who've backed Mrs. Elvis Costello. Russell Malone, Christian McBride, et al. have bills. I'm sure those guys pull out brandy snifters and laugh. "Hey! Shhh! Ha! HA!! You know who paid for the VSOP? My phone won't ring soon enough, baby."
It's how top tier sidemen cover the rare poker night they have together when there isn't a flight to catch.
It's also because well n' thoroughly over-the-hill critics are white knuckling it only slightly above aging farts who had jobs as college radio DJs, and, so ersatz "fans" can console themselves with shared affectation. We need an appropriate soundtrack for dinner parties. Bland background music matches the chicken. I suspect that a lot of wife swapping is inspired by Diana Krall, too. You're exhausted by that tiresome voice and tedious piano of hers. The meal was unsatisfying. You're too drunk to drive home.
What else is there?
Cheers!
But I do not listen to that kind of stuff anyway.
