This week In Singing Ladies 07/52
Sarah Vaughan, Katie Melua, Jennifer Rush, Ane Brun, Stacey Kent, Brandi Carlile, Nneka, Susan Tedeschi, Ann Wilson, Alison Moyet, Kate Bush, Dianne Reeves
They are the 12 Singing Ladies selected among the 305 Posts we publish this week.
Here, they are reunited in one glorious playlist. Enjoy!
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Tracklist
![]() 1 . Sarah Vaughan . Send In The Clowns“Send In The Clowns” serves as both a bold choice and a natural fit for Sarah Vaughan’s nuanced vocal style. Originally penned by Stephen Sondheim for the 1973 musical *A Little Night Music*, the song centers around themes of irony and disillusionment, a terrain Vaughan navigates with ease on her 1981 album of the same name. This marks her third collaboration with the Count Basie Orchestra, though the arrangements by Sammy Nestico and Allyn Ferguson leave few moments for the orchestra’s members to truly shine, relegating their contributions to a decorative backdrop rather than an integrated dialogue with Vaughan’s voice. The recording sessions at Group IV Recording Studio in Hollywood in early 1981 place the song within a larger context of polished jazz standards, yet Vaughan distinguishes this track with her ability to extract depths of emotional complexity from the deceptively simple title, itself a nod to theatrical mishaps and existential folly. By framing the song’s inherent resignation with her trademark vocal agility, Vaughan transforms Sondheim’s reflection on unrequited love into an intimate experience, her interpretive genius managing to inject dimension into lyrics that oscillate between personal lament and wider human folly. While the absence of instrumental solos from the Basie sidemen hints at missed artistic potential, Vaughan’s voice becomes the gravitational center, offering a performance that resonates beyond technicalities. “Send In The Clowns” as a single did not chart, but within the broader narrative of Vaughan’s discography, it’s another example of her ability to fuse theatrical drama with jazz sensibilities, even if the surrounding musical elements don’t always rise to meet her artistry. ![]() Sarah Vaughan records with the Count Basie Orchestra, ‘Send in the Clowns’ an album for Pablo (1981) |
![]() 2 . Katie Melua . Spider’s Web“Spider’s Web,” a standout track from Katie Melua’s 2005 album “Piece by Piece,” straddles the blurry moral lines it seeks to dissect, delivered with a grace that neither preaches nor avoids discomfort. Written in the tense lead-up to the Iraq War, the song grapples with humanity’s penchant for black-and-white assertions, instead proposing a fragile, precarious middle ground. The lyric “the line between wrong and right is the width of a thread from a spider’s web” feels less like an answer and more like a quietly unnerving observation. The production, helmed by Mike Batt, amplifies the song’s reflective tone with minimalistic elegance. Chris Spedding and Jim Cregan’s guitar work meshes seamlessly with Melua’s plaintive delivery, while Dominic Glover’s trumpet solo adds a layer of melancholy that teeters between resignation and resilience. The Irish Film Orchestra, also conducted by Batt, provides lush flourishes without overshadowing the song’s intimacy. The music video incorporates a visual nod to “Schindler’s List,” invoking historical weight to underline the song’s moral questions. That said, the parallels to the 1993 Spielberg epic might feel a tad too on the nose, hammering home a message already implicit in the lyrics. Chart-wise, “Spider’s Web” performed modestly in the UK, peaking at number 52, but resonated more strongly in Poland, reaching number 2. This disparity might reflect its understated approach—an anti-anthem that whispers rather than shouts, asking for introspection in a genre that often opts for certainty. While its reflective mood and layered instrumentation showcase Melua’s maturity, the track risks bordering on overly somber. Still, few artists manage to navigate such weighty topics with her combination of subtlety and earnestness. “Spider’s Web” may not provide answers, but its quiet persistence ensures its questions won’t be ignored. B+ ![]() |
![]() 3 . Jennifer Rush . The Power of Love“The Power of Love” by Jennifer Rush is a meticulous concoction of emotive lyricism and grandiose arrangement, released in 1984 as part of her self-titled album “Jennifer Rush.” The track, written by Gunther Mende, Candy DeRouge, Jennifer Rush, and Mary Susan Applegate, walks the well-trodden path of ’80s power ballads, yet refuses to be eclipsed, merging German roots with an English translation that anchors its universal appeal. Chart performance underscores its global resonance—number one in the UK, Australia, Canada, Norway, and Switzerland, with a five-week reign atop the UK Official Singles Chart and an impressive 33-week tenure in the top 100. In contrast, its US Billboard Hot 100 peak at 57 feels like an inexplicable anomaly given its cross-continental success. Gunther Mende’s production isn’t without its nods—its arrangement bears striking echoes of Ultravox’s “Vienna,” blending the emotional sweep of Euro influences with the polished drama of Anglo-American balladry. What elevates this six-minute opus is its deliberate build, moving from a restrained opening to a crescendo that risks melodrama, capped by a high C note aimed more at operatic flourish than subtlety. Mary Susan Applegate’s English lyrics strive toward universality, though at times veer close to generic emotional shorthand, relying heavily on Rush’s vocal intensity to transcend them. Its enduring popularity is reflected in music compilations and decades of fan access through official YouTube videos, solidifying its place as a cultural heavyweight within Rush’s catalogue, even if its melodramatic core may not appeal to all modern listeners. ![]() On German TV today, Jennifer Rush at ‘Rock Pop Music Hall’ (1985) |
![]() 4 . Ane Brun . All We Want Is Love“All We Want Is Love,” released in 2015, finds Ane Brun navigating the terrain of yearning with her signature poise and subtlety. Although the specific album it belongs to isn’t named, the song comfortably sits within the broader canon of Brun’s two-decade career, a catalog as sprawling as it is distinctive. The track benefits from Brun’s knack for collaboration, even if the precise players here are mysteriously unlisted. Frequent collaborators like Martin Hederos or Josefin Runsteen loom in the listener’s imagination, their past works with Brun painting a possible backdrop of organic arrangements and atmospheric depth. Brun, as always, crafts her music on her own terms—a fact worth considering when reflecting on the song’s rejection of bombast. Instead, it opts for introspection, even as Brun’s voice arcs toward a crystalline clarity that whispers of hope between the cracks of longing. While the song operates in the rich emotional territory Brun often visits, there’s a faint sense that it hesitates to dig as deep as it could. The yearning feels earnest, but the execution risks being too delicate, dipping toward fragility. Still, its quietude contrasts starkly with a streaming world chasing immediacy, where Brun’s catalog has accrued streams in the hundreds of millions. If the numbers suggest scope, “All We Want Is Love” instead chooses intimacy—a quiet insistence on being heard in a room of noise. As Brun eyes a 2025 album, one wonders if this song represents a continuation or merely a single step on a restless journey. Whether it stays with the listener depends on whether subtlety intrigues or dissipates in the pressing flood of sound. ![]() |
![]() 5 . Stacey Kent . The Best Is yet to ComeStacey Kent’s interpretation of “The Best Is Yet to Come,” featured on her 2003 album “The Boy Next Door,” subtly reinvents a jazz standard that has long been associated with the swagger of Frank Sinatra and the brassy arrangements of Quincy Jones. Where Sinatra’s 1964 take leaned into a commanding confidence alongside Count Basie, Kent opts for an understated charm that gently nudges the song in a more intimate direction. Her vocal delivery feels almost conversational, trading the bravado of the original for a tone that suggests optimism wrapped in quiet assurance. The arrangement on this track is restrained yet polished, a signature of Kent’s catalog under Candid Productions Ltd. While not explicitly mentioned, her frequent collaborator and husband, Jim Tomlinson, could very well have had a hand in shaping its atmosphere, considering his consistent presence on her recordings. This subtle dynamic works both for and against the track: its elegance is undeniable, but it treads dangerously close to the predictable, lacking the kind of risk that might make it soar above her broader repertoire of jazz standards. Placed in the context of “The Boy Next Door,” which blends classics and contemporary gems, Kent’s rendition aligns perfectly with the album’s overall aesthetic. However, when set against her acclaimed live performances or her multilingual explorations with artists like Kazuo Ishiguro, its studio-bound refinement pales slightly in comparison to the emotional immediacy she often brings to the stage. ![]() Stacey Kent records ‘The Boy Next Door’ an album for Candid Records (2003) |
![]() 6 . Brandi Carlile . Before It Breaks“Before It Breaks,” one of the standout tracks from Brandi Carlile’s third studio album, “Give Up the Ghost,” lands with the quiet force of inevitability. Recorded at Sunset Sound in Los Angeles and shaped under the careful, unfussy guidance of Rick Rubin, the song resists overproduction, leaning instead on clarity of emotion. Carlile, along with co-writers and longtime collaborators Phil and Tim Hanseroth, crafts a piece that feels both expansive and deeply personal. Instrumentally, the track builds a delicate tension. Carlile’s lead vocal, taut yet resolute, navigates a sparse arrangement augmented by her own contributions on banjo, acoustic guitar, and piano. The subtle interplay between Gibb Droll’s dobro and Benmont Tench’s organ adds dimension without veering into excess. Even Lenny Castro’s percussion feels deliberate rather than ornamental, an approach mirrored by Phil’s upright bass and Tim’s restrained drumming. Live performances, as seen in the Nashville Symphony video, elevate the song’s orchestral undertones, providing an added sheen while retaining its raw vulnerability. Such renditions, alongside appearances like the Colorado Symphony-backed set at Red Rocks, highlight Carlile’s ability to bridge the intimacy of the studio version with the grandeur of a live setting. While the album peaked respectably on charts—number 26 on the Billboard 200, number 9 on Top Rock Albums, and number 5 in Folk—this track, in particular, showcases the unpolished edge that awards nominations like the GLAAD nod may have overlooked. If “Before It Breaks” has a shortcoming, it lies in how its restraint may not readily gratify listeners craving immediacy. Yet, such understatement is also the song’s strength: a slow burn that rewards patience as surely as it resists pandering. ![]() |
![]() 7 . Nneka . Come With Me“Come With Me,” nestled within Nneka’s 2015 album “No Longer at Ease,” serves as a potent reflection of the artist’s Nigerian-German duality, both culturally and musically. While it doesn’t boast the chart-climbing credentials of “Heartbeat,” a track that hit number 20 on the UK Official Singles Chart, “Come With Me” contributes to the intricate mosaic of Nneka’s discography. Its absence from specific chart data is less an indictment of quality and more an indication of its subtlety—here is a song that seeks connection rather than conquest. Sonically, “Come With Me” aligns with Nneka’s signature fusion of soul, hip-hop, and reggae. What it lacks in immediate hooks, it compensates for with intricate layering, mirroring the tensions explored in its parent album. The album’s title—a nod to Chinua Achebe’s novel—hints at the thematic gravity, situating the song in a continuum of thoughtful art reflecting on displacement and moral unease. Yet, where the studio version provides measured restraint, the live renditions breathe a different life into the song. Frequently featured in TikTok-shared clips, Nneka’s live performances amplify its emotional depth, channeling her guitar-driven energy into something intimate yet fervent. These moments reveal the song’s innate adaptability—a quiet coiled spring that unfolds with force in a live setting. The absence of marquee collaborations (unlike her “My Fairy Tales” work with Mounir Maarouf and Blaise Batisse) places “Come With Me” squarely on Nneka’s shoulders. She carries it well, though one wonders if a collaborative lens might have sharpened its edges. Ultimately, “Come With Me” is neither anthemic nor album-defining, but it resonates within Nneka’s broader musical ethos—a transient moment that invites interpretation without pandering to sentiment or spectacle. ![]() |
![]() 8 . Susan Tedeschi -Signs/High Times (w/ Tedeschi Trucks Band)“Signs, High Times” opens the Tedeschi Trucks Band’s 2019 album “Signs” with a muscular blend of funk and blues that both challenges and comforts its listeners. The track announces itself with Derek Trucks’ signature slide guitar—sharp and feral—before settling into a rhythm that gallops with just enough restraint to keep the tension alive. Susan Tedeschi’s vocal delivery is commanding yet unhurried, effortlessly alternating between pointed observation and soulful lamentation as she tackles the unease beneath the song’s grooves. Adding depth are the vocal contributions of Mike Mattison, Mark Rivers, and Alecia Chakour, whose alternating lines weave a tapestry of shared experience that enriches rather than detracts from Tedeschi’s lead. The arrangement brims with detail: Kofi Burbridge’s organ, soaring and unfettered, carves a melodic path through the dense horn section before Trucks takes over with a slide solo that cuts to the bone, both a release and a rallying cry. Thematically, the song reflects the album’s somber preoccupations—loss and resilience—but wraps it in a buoyant energy that prevents it from collapsing under its own weight. Still, this balancing act between gravity and exuberance isn’t flawless; the funk grooves occasionally feel more serviceable than revelatory, and the lyrics, while evocative, can flirt with generality at moments. Nonetheless, as an opener, “Signs, High Times” succeeds in setting the tone and stakes for what follows, offering a spirited yet uneasy entry into the album’s introspective core. ![]() Tedeschi Trucks Band release their fourth album ‘Signs’ featuring ‘Hard Case’ (2019) |
![]() 9 . Ann Wilson . Magic Man(w/ Heart)“Magic Man,” off Heart’s 1976 debut, “Dreamboat Annie,” captures a moment of personal tumult and infatuation, rendered through Ann Wilson’s powerhouse vocal delivery. The autobiographical nature of the song is evident in its lyrical themes, chronicling Wilson’s leap from suburban stability to the uncertainties of life on the road with Michael Fisher, her then-partner and the band’s manager. Lines like “Come on home, girl,” directly reflect her mother’s resistance, adding an emotional heft that grounds the track’s otherwise otherworldly tone. Musically, the song straddles progressive rock and pop, with production helmed by Mike Flicker. Ann’s voice soars over dynamic instrumentation, a testament to her versatility, while Nancy Wilson’s guitar work adds texture and bite. The fluidity between tension and release in both the lyrics and melody mirrors the real-life push-and-pull between familial expectations and desire. The balance between personal storytelling and universal relatability bolsters the track’s staying power. On release, the single made its mark on charts worldwide: peaking at No. 9 on the US Billboard Hot 100, No. 7 on the Cash Box Top 100, and No. 6 in Australia. Such metrics underscore its immediate cultural resonance, though the production occasionally leans too far into its time, leaving some elements sounding slightly dated today. Notably, the song resurfaced decades later via a cover by Dolly Parton on her 2023 “Rockstar” album, a testament to its status as a classic. Still, while its allure largely rests on Ann’s intimate connection to the narrative, the song’s drama occasionally risks veering into melodrama. Yet, this tension only enriches what is ultimately a vivid portrait of personal defiance set against the lush drama of 1970s rock. ![]() Heart release their debut album . ‘Dreamboat Annie’ featuring ‘Magic Man’ and ‘Crazy on You’ (1976) |
![]() 10 . Alison Moyet . All Cried Out“All Cried Out” finds Alison Moyet in peak form, her voice commanding yet vulnerable, wavering between despair and defiance. Written alongside producers Steve Jolley and Tony Swain, the song occupies that melancholy-laden terrain of early-80s pop, blending the raw emotionality of Moyet’s performance with a synthesized backbone that teeters between dated and timeless. Released on September 25, 1984, as the second single from her debut solo album “Alf,” the track is emblematic of Moyet’s transition from Yazoo’s synth-heavy minimalism to a fuller, more polished sonic palette. Chartwise, it resonated well, climbing to number 8 on the UK Singles Chart, number 7 in Ireland, and securing a respectable number 6 in New Zealand. One could argue it’s less about universal appeal than the gravitational pull of Moyet’s voice—a force of nature that anchors the song’s pleading refrain. Critics were split: Paul Bursche lauded Moyet’s emotive delivery, but Jim Reid’s tersely dismissive quip about its “perfunctory plea of passion” underscores how sentimentality doesn’t land universally. Frank Edmonds, with an 8/10 score, sat neatly in the pro-Moyet camp, calling attention to the track’s vocal potency. Clearly, the song’s divisiveness lies in its unabashed earnestness—a quality that can either transcend or trip over itself, depending on taste. The production is textbook mid-80s: glossy yet never obscuring Moyet’s brooding lyricism. The extended and remixed 12” versions may stretch this thin, but the essence remains intact—a moment in time that marked Moyet’s burgeoning solo career. From awards like her 1985 BRIT win for Best British Female Singer to the Eurodance reinterpretation by Jamie Watson in 1995, “All Cried Out” continues to echo, albeit in contrasting iterations. ![]() |
![]() 11 . Kate Bush . Kite“Kite,” the fourth track on Kate Bush’s 1978 debut album “The Kick Inside,” flutters between playful experimentation and stylistic nods that feel both surprising and calculated. As the B-side to the lauded single “Wuthering Heights,” the song stands in stark contrast to its dramatic counterpart. Drawing on a loose reggae foundation—a comparison Bush herself links to “a Bob Marley song”—its laid-back groove is undeniably quirky by design. But “Kite” doesn’t float solely in reggae waters. Psychedelic rock and prog rock influences ripple through its structure, reflective of Bush’s acknowledged admiration for bands like Genesis and King Crimson. These shifts sometimes feel more like a checklist of her inspirations rather than a fully organic integration, though the ambition is undeniable. Musically, the use of two modulations formed around the subtonic pivot evokes an intentional unpredictability, mirroring the sense of escape the lyrics explore. The kite as a metaphor for evading monotony and grappling with control ties neatly to the song’s sonic disorder. Produced by Andrew Powell, whose polished touch shaped much of “The Kick Inside,” the track feels like a curious experiment privileged by its album-slot anonymity. Its reggae-prog fusion never quite solidifies, but that lack of grounding feels intentional—almost too knowing—as though Bush already anticipated the listener’s raised eyebrow. Featured during Bush’s 1979 “Tour of Life,” the theatricality inherent in the song finally found its stage. Her distinct mime-influenced choreography, underscored by the contributions of the KT Bush Band, was an apt match for a track whose lyrics suggest an uneasiness with being tethered to anything, even gravity itself. As for its cultural footprint, “Kite” itself charted nowhere, its significance overshadowed by the historical might of “Wuthering Heights” bringing Bush a spot in UK chart history. Ultimately, “Kite” is a curious piece, a collage of Bush’s early obsessions. Whether it soars or zigzags depends on how much indulgence you’re willing to give it, but as a harbinger of Bush’s boundary-pushing future, it’s undeniably a string worth following. ![]() EMI publish Kate Bush’s debut album . ‘The Kick Inside’ featuring ‘Wuthering Heights’ (1978) |
![]() 12 . Dianne Reeves . Obsession“Obsession,” as rendered by Dianne Reeves, is less a song and more a careful orchestration of tribute and personal reinvention. Originally hailing from Sarah Vaughan’s 1987 album “Brazilian Romance,” the track finds Reeves positioning herself both as a custodian of Vaughan’s legacy and as a seeker of her own jazz-inflected paths. It’s telling that Reeves has threaded this Brazilian gem into her collaborative repertoire with Ivan Lins, a musician synonymous with the genre’s lyricism. Their live performances, including stops at the Hollywood Bowl and SFJAZZ, have taken “Obsession” into the limelight, imbuing it with a spirited interplay that both celebrates and interrogates the song’s joyful roots. While “Obsession” remains absent from the singles charts, its significance lies elsewhere—serving as a keystone in Reeves’ broader exploration of Brazilian music, a journey shaped as much by her early involvement with Sérgio Mendes and Caldera as by her reverence for Vaughan. The SFJAZZ residency in 2019 was particularly notable, as Reeves, accompanied by Lins, let the infectious rhythms and melodic cadences of “Obsession” amplify the evening’s intimacy. That said, Reeves doesn’t wholly depart from the song’s heritage; instead, she colors its contours with her vocal richness, reframing its intricate lyricism for contemporary audiences. And yet, in pushing “Obsession” into new interpretive spaces, Reeves deftly avoids overwrought innovation, allowing Zara McFarlane’s later steel pan-infused adaptation to more freely depart from the original. Reeves’ personal connection to this repertoire grounds her approach, but whether the song’s rawness translates fully in her recordings remains debatable. If the album “Beautiful Life’s” chart success at number 3 on the US Jazz charts speaks to her mass appeal, it’s worth examining whether “Obsession” itself has the same immediacy in Reeves’ hands as it did with Vaughan’s. For all its celebratory verve, the cover toes the line between homage and mimicry, raising questions about how far a tribute can—or should—stray without erasing its source’s inexorable pull. ![]() Dianne Reeves releases ‘The Calling: Celebrating Sarah Vaughan’ produced by George Duke (2001) |
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