billie holiday
Considered by many to be the greatest jazz vocalist of all time, Billie Holiday lived a tempestuous and difficult life. Her singing expressed an incredible depth of emotion that spoke of hard times and injustice, as well as triumph. Though her career was relatively short and often erratic, she left behind a body of work as great as any vocalist before or since.
The first popular jazz singer to move audiences with the intense, personal feeling of classic blues, Billie Holiday changed the art of American pop vocals forever. More than a half-century after her death, it's difficult to believe that prior to her emergence, jazz and pop singers were tied to Tin Pan Alley, where singers made their living demonstrating songs to promote the sales of sheet music, and rarely personalized their songs. Only blues singers like Bessie Smith and Ma Rainey actually gave the impression they had lived through what they were singing. Holiday's highly stylized reading of this blues tradition revolutionized traditional pop, ripping in two the decades-long tradition of song plugging by refusing to compromise her artistry for either the song or the band. She made clear her debts to Bessie Smith and Louis Armstrong. In her autobiography, Lady Sings The Blues, she admitted, "I always wanted Bessie's big sound and Pops' feeling"), but in truth, her style was virtually her own, quite a shock in an age of interchangeable crooners and band singers.
The first popular jazz singer to move audiences with the intense, personal feeling of classic blues, Billie Holiday changed the art of American pop vocals forever. More than a half-century after her death, it's difficult to believe that prior to her emergence, jazz and pop singers were tied to Tin Pan Alley, where singers made their living demonstrating songs to promote the sales of sheet music, and rarely personalized their songs. Only blues singers like Bessie Smith and Ma Rainey actually gave the impression they had lived through what they were singing. Holiday's highly stylized reading of this blues tradition revolutionized traditional pop, ripping in two the decades-long tradition of song plugging by refusing to compromise her artistry for either the song or the band. She made clear her debts to Bessie Smith and Louis Armstrong. In her autobiography, Lady Sings The Blues, she admitted, "I always wanted Bessie's big sound and Pops' feeling"), but in truth, her style was virtually her own, quite a shock in an age of interchangeable crooners and band singers.
Fletcher Henderson
Billie Holiday's chaotic life reportedly began in Baltimore on April 7, 1915 when she was born Eleanora Fagan. Her father, Clarence Holiday, was a teenaged jazz guitarist and banjo player later to play in Fletcher Henderson's Orchestra, who led one of the most commercially successful African American jazz bands in the 1920s and 30s. Records recorded by Mr. Henderson during the jazz era, included such numbers as "Twelfth Street Rag."
Clarence never married Holiday's mother, Sadie Fagan, and left while his daughter was still a baby. Her mother was also a young teenager at the time, and whether because of inexperience or neglect, often left her daughter with uncaring relatives. Holiday started skipping school, and she and her mother went to court over her truancy. She was then sent to the House of Good Shepherd, a facility for troubled African American girls, in January 1925. Only 9 years old at the time, Holiday was one of the youngest girls there. She was returned to her mother's care in August of that year. According to Donald Clarke's biography, Billie Holiday: Wishing on the Moon, she returned to Good Shepherd in 1926 after she had been sexually assaulted.
Clarence never married Holiday's mother, Sadie Fagan, and left while his daughter was still a baby. Her mother was also a young teenager at the time, and whether because of inexperience or neglect, often left her daughter with uncaring relatives. Holiday started skipping school, and she and her mother went to court over her truancy. She was then sent to the House of Good Shepherd, a facility for troubled African American girls, in January 1925. Only 9 years old at the time, Holiday was one of the youngest girls there. She was returned to her mother's care in August of that year. According to Donald Clarke's biography, Billie Holiday: Wishing on the Moon, she returned to Good Shepherd in 1926 after she had been sexually assaulted.
In her difficult early life, Holiday found solace in music, singing along to the records of Bessie Smith and Louis Armstrong. She followed her mother who had moved to New York City in the late 1920s. In New York, Holiday helped her mother with domestic work, but soon began moonlighting as a prostitute for the additional income. Around 1930, Holiday began singing in local clubs and renamed herself "Billie" after the film star Billie Dove.
According to the weighty Billie Holiday legend (which gained additional credence after her notoriously apocryphal autobiography), her big singing break came in 1933 when a laughable dancing audition at a speakeasy prompted her accompanist to ask her if she could sing. In fact, Holiday was most likely singing at clubs all over New York City as early as 1930-31. Whatever the true story, she first gained some publicity in early 1933, when record producer John Hammond -- only three years older than Holiday herself, and just at the beginning of his own legendary career -- was instrumental in getting her recording work with an up-and-coming clarinetist and bandleader named Benny Goodman. With Goodman, she sang vocals for several tracks, including her first commercial release "Your Mother's Son-In-Law."
In 1934, Holiday had her first top ten hit with another recording with the Goodman band, a lightweight novelty concoction called “Riffin’ the Scotch”.
According to the weighty Billie Holiday legend (which gained additional credence after her notoriously apocryphal autobiography), her big singing break came in 1933 when a laughable dancing audition at a speakeasy prompted her accompanist to ask her if she could sing. In fact, Holiday was most likely singing at clubs all over New York City as early as 1930-31. Whatever the true story, she first gained some publicity in early 1933, when record producer John Hammond -- only three years older than Holiday herself, and just at the beginning of his own legendary career -- was instrumental in getting her recording work with an up-and-coming clarinetist and bandleader named Benny Goodman. With Goodman, she sang vocals for several tracks, including her first commercial release "Your Mother's Son-In-Law."
In 1934, Holiday had her first top ten hit with another recording with the Goodman band, a lightweight novelty concoction called “Riffin’ the Scotch”.
Neither was a successful showcase for her talents -- nor, in truth, designed to be -- because her role in the recordings presented Holiday as band vocalist in a setting which stressed the instrumental prowess of Goodman, trombonist Jack Teagarden and other instrumental soloists. However, the singer managed to stamp her imprint on the vocal refrains and, for a young black performer with no experience with recording and, in her own words, "afraid to sing in the mike," Holiday came across as reasonably confident. Yet, in her mind, having a record on the market was not a big deal. She expected little from it and was not disappointed. Royalties were not routinely paid to recording artists in those days, and Holiday remembered receiving a flat fee of about 35 dollars for her work. She placed little value on either song, not bothering to include them in her club or stage programs or future recording repertoire.
Duke Ellington
Though she didn't return to the studio for over a year, Billie Holiday spent 1934 moving up the rungs of the competitive New York bar scene. By early 1935, she made her debut at the Apollo Theater and appeared in a one-reeler film with Duke Ellington, called Symphony in Black.
During the last half of 1935, Holiday finally entered the studio again. By mid-July, the singer had returned for a session organized by Hammond and directed by Teddy Wilson. In Wilson, an accomplished musician and sensitive pianist, Holiday had found the sympathetic partner she needed to reveal the full range of her abilities. The songs picked for this groundbreaking record date were above average - "I Wished On The Moon" and "Miss Brown To You" were film numbers - and the easygoing jam-session atmosphere suited Holiday perfectly.
With a pick-up band supervised by Wilson, she recorded a series of obscure, forgettable songs straight from the gutters of Tin Pan Alley -- in other words, the only songs available to an obscure black band during the mid-1930s. In the ugly reality of the swing era, music publishers kept the best songs strictly in the hands of society orchestras and popular white singers.
Despite the poor quality of the compositions, Holiday and various groups (including trumpeter Roy Eldridge, alto saxophonist Johnny Hodges, and Ben Webster and Chu Berry on tenor saxophone) energized flat songs like "What a Little Moonlight Can Do," "Twenty-Four Hours a Day" and "If You Were Mine."
During the last half of 1935, Holiday finally entered the studio again. By mid-July, the singer had returned for a session organized by Hammond and directed by Teddy Wilson. In Wilson, an accomplished musician and sensitive pianist, Holiday had found the sympathetic partner she needed to reveal the full range of her abilities. The songs picked for this groundbreaking record date were above average - "I Wished On The Moon" and "Miss Brown To You" were film numbers - and the easygoing jam-session atmosphere suited Holiday perfectly.
With a pick-up band supervised by Wilson, she recorded a series of obscure, forgettable songs straight from the gutters of Tin Pan Alley -- in other words, the only songs available to an obscure black band during the mid-1930s. In the ugly reality of the swing era, music publishers kept the best songs strictly in the hands of society orchestras and popular white singers.
Despite the poor quality of the compositions, Holiday and various groups (including trumpeter Roy Eldridge, alto saxophonist Johnny Hodges, and Ben Webster and Chu Berry on tenor saxophone) energized flat songs like "What a Little Moonlight Can Do," "Twenty-Four Hours a Day" and "If You Were Mine."
The great combo playing and Holiday's increasingly assured vocals made these songs quite popular on the record labels Columbia, Brunswick and Vocalion. So powerful was this group’s ability to turn a bad song around, you can even hear it on two, improbably popular, recordings: "Eeny Meeny Miney Mo" and "Yankee Doodle Never Went to Town.”
In 1936, a number of Billie Holiday recordings were released as singles. Eleven of these records have been attributed chart positions in the Top 20, and five were in the Top 5. These #5 hit songs were: "These Foolish Things," "The Way You Look Tonight," "Who Loves You," "That’s Life I Guess," and I Can’t Give You Anything But Love."
In late January 1937, she recorded several numbers with a small group culled from one of John Hammond's new discoveries, Count Basie's Orchestra. Tenor saxophonist, clarinetist and trumpeter, Lester Young, who first met her several years earlier, and trumpeter Buck Clayton were to become especially attached to Holiday. The three did much of their best recorded work together during the late '30s, and Holiday herself bestowed the nickname Prez on Young, while he dubbed her Lady Day for her elegance.
In late January 1937, she recorded several numbers with a small group culled from one of John Hammond's new discoveries, Count Basie's Orchestra. Tenor saxophonist, clarinetist and trumpeter, Lester Young, who first met her several years earlier, and trumpeter Buck Clayton were to become especially attached to Holiday. The three did much of their best recorded work together during the late '30s, and Holiday herself bestowed the nickname Prez on Young, while he dubbed her Lady Day for her elegance.
Another outcropping of recordings were released in 1937. Even more of these singles landed in the Top 20 than in 1936, a total of fifteen, while seven made it to the Top 10, including the song “Carelessly,” which reached number one.
Artie Shaw
By the spring of 1937, Holiday began touring with Count Basie as the female complement to his male singer, Jimmy Rushing. The association lasted less than a year, however. Though officially she was fired from the band for being temperamental and unreliable, shadowy influences higher up in the publishing world reportedly commanded the action after she refused to sing the female blues standards of the 1920s.
At least temporarily, the move actually benefited Holiday. Less than a month after leaving Basie, she was hired by Artie Shaw's popular band. She began singing with the group in 1938, one of the first instances of a black female appearing with a white group.
At least temporarily, the move actually benefited Holiday. Less than a month after leaving Basie, she was hired by Artie Shaw's popular band. She began singing with the group in 1938, one of the first instances of a black female appearing with a white group.
Reaching number #14 on the charts, “Nice Work If You Can Get It” was just one of many Holiday recordings released in 1938. Three more records that year found a home in the Top 20: “My Man,” “You Go To My Head,” and, reaching the #2 position, “I’m Gonna Lock My Heart.”
Despite the continuing support of the entire Artie Shaw band, show promoters and radio sponsors soon began objecting to Holiday -- based on her unorthodox singing style almost as much as her race. After a series of escalating indignities, she quit the band in disgust. Yet again, her judgment served her well; the added freedom allowed her to take a gig at a hip new club named Café Society, the first popular nightspot with an inter-racial audience. There, Billie Holiday learned the song that would catapult her career to a new level: "Strange Fruit."
The standard “Strange Fruit,” written by Café Society regular Lewis Allen and forever tied to Holiday, is an anguished reprisal of the intense racism still persistent in the South. Though Holiday initially expressed doubts about adding such a bald, uncompromising song to her repertoire, she pulled it off thanks largely to her powers of nuance and subtlety. "Strange Fruit" soon became the highlight of her performances. Though John Hammond refused to record it (not for its politics but for its overly pungent imagery), he allowed Holiday a bit of leverage to record for Commodore, the label owned by jazz record-store owner Milt Gabler. Once released, "Strange Fruit" was banned by many radio outlets, though the growing jukebox industry (and the inclusion of the excellent "Fine and Mellow" on the flip-side) made it a rather large, though controversial, hit.
Despite the continuing support of the entire Artie Shaw band, show promoters and radio sponsors soon began objecting to Holiday -- based on her unorthodox singing style almost as much as her race. After a series of escalating indignities, she quit the band in disgust. Yet again, her judgment served her well; the added freedom allowed her to take a gig at a hip new club named Café Society, the first popular nightspot with an inter-racial audience. There, Billie Holiday learned the song that would catapult her career to a new level: "Strange Fruit."
The standard “Strange Fruit,” written by Café Society regular Lewis Allen and forever tied to Holiday, is an anguished reprisal of the intense racism still persistent in the South. Though Holiday initially expressed doubts about adding such a bald, uncompromising song to her repertoire, she pulled it off thanks largely to her powers of nuance and subtlety. "Strange Fruit" soon became the highlight of her performances. Though John Hammond refused to record it (not for its politics but for its overly pungent imagery), he allowed Holiday a bit of leverage to record for Commodore, the label owned by jazz record-store owner Milt Gabler. Once released, "Strange Fruit" was banned by many radio outlets, though the growing jukebox industry (and the inclusion of the excellent "Fine and Mellow" on the flip-side) made it a rather large, though controversial, hit.
Holiday continued recording for Columbia labels until 1942, and hit big again with her most famous, original composition, 1941's "God Bless the Child."
Gabler, who also worked A&R for Decca, signed her to the label in 1944 to record "Lover Man," a song written especially for her and her third big hit.
Neatly side-stepping the musician's union ban that afflicted her former label, Holiday soon became a priority at Decca, earning the right to top-quality material and lavish string sections for her sessions. She continued recording scattered sessions for Decca during the rest of the '40s and recorded several of her best-loved songs, including Bessie Smith's "'Tain't Nobody's Business If I Do," "Them There Eyes," and "Crazy He Calls Me."
Gabler, who also worked A&R for Decca, signed her to the label in 1944 to record "Lover Man," a song written especially for her and her third big hit.
Neatly side-stepping the musician's union ban that afflicted her former label, Holiday soon became a priority at Decca, earning the right to top-quality material and lavish string sections for her sessions. She continued recording scattered sessions for Decca during the rest of the '40s and recorded several of her best-loved songs, including Bessie Smith's "'Tain't Nobody's Business If I Do," "Them There Eyes," and "Crazy He Calls Me."
Billie with Joe Guy
Though her artistry was at its peak, Billie Holiday's emotional life began a turbulent period during the mid-'40s. Already heavily into alcohol and marijuana, she began smoking opium early in the decade with her first husband, Johnnie Monroe. The marriage didn't last, but hot on its heels came a second marriage to trumpeter Joe Guy and a move to heroin.
She lost a good deal of money running her own orchestra with Joe. Her mother's death soon after affected her deeply, and in 1947 she was arrested for possession of heroin and sentenced to eight months in prison.
She lost a good deal of money running her own orchestra with Joe. Her mother's death soon after affected her deeply, and in 1947 she was arrested for possession of heroin and sentenced to eight months in prison.
Another major disappointment to Holiday's professional aspirations was her failure to secure a film break, after pinning her hopes on the part she was offered in the 1946 jazz film titled, New Orleans. Both Holiday and her idol, Louis Armstrong, had roles involving a great deal of music-making -- much of it left in the cutting room -- but the purported jazz story turned out to be a nonsensical fantasy; worse, she and Armstrong were cast as servants. She was quoted later as saying, "I fought my whole life to keep from being somebody's damn maid. It was a real drag ... to end up as a make-believe maid." The picture failed but gave her valuable international exposure, and jazz fanciers were pleased to see and hear the sequences that remained featuring Holiday, Armstrong, Kid Ory, Woody Herman and other musicians. For Holiday, though, it was goodbye to the movies.
Her addiction barely affected her singing at first, although her behavior grew increasingly unpredictable and she gained a reputation for unreliability. At last Holiday was earning real money, as much as $1,000 weekly, but about half that sum was going to pay for her habit. Nevertheless, she now had the public recognition she craved. In the first Esquire magazine poll (in 1943), the critics voted her best vocalist, topping Mildred Bailey and Ella Fitzgerald.
Billie with Louis Armstrong
Holiday was a stellar act, in spite of drug problems, and one accompanist spoke years later of her "phenomenal musicianship." She recorded 36 titles for Decca Records with a wide variety of more commercially acceptable accompaniments, including strings on a dozen or so sides and a vocal group on two. This series of 78s rank with the mature Holiday's most accomplished performances, technically speaking, although the revolutionary approach had become more calculating and mannered. To compensate, she turned up the emotional heat, depending on her imagination, to deliver the right touch. Among these 78s, recorded between October 1944 and March 1950, are a number of gems of jazz singing -- among them "Porgy", "Good Morning Heartache", "You Better Go Now" -- and, as a welcome example of Lady Day being back to top form as a commanding, exuberant, mistress of swing phrasing, the mid-tempo blues-drenched "Now Or Never." She even paired up comfortably with Louis Armstrong on their duet recording, “My Sweet Hunk O’Trash.”
She stayed with Decca until 1950. Two years later, she began recording for jazz entrepreneur Norman Granz, owner of the excellent labels Clef, Norgran, and by 1956, Verve. The recordings returned her to the small-group intimacy of her Columbia work, and reunited her with Ben Webster as well as other top-flight musicians such as Oscar Peterson, Harry "Sweets" Edison, and Charlie Shavers. Though the ravages of a hard life were beginning to take their toll on her voice, many of Holiday's mid-'50s recordings are just as intense and beautiful as her classic work.
She stayed with Decca until 1950. Two years later, she began recording for jazz entrepreneur Norman Granz, owner of the excellent labels Clef, Norgran, and by 1956, Verve. The recordings returned her to the small-group intimacy of her Columbia work, and reunited her with Ben Webster as well as other top-flight musicians such as Oscar Peterson, Harry "Sweets" Edison, and Charlie Shavers. Though the ravages of a hard life were beginning to take their toll on her voice, many of Holiday's mid-'50s recordings are just as intense and beautiful as her classic work.
As for her final albums with the Ray Ellis Orchestra, they are, for the majority of jazz fanciers, a painfully acquired taste. Lady in Satin was the next to last album recorded and released in her lifetime. Holiday herself said that this session was her personal favorite, but her voice was essentially gone by 1958. Late in life, she expressed the pain of life so effectively that her croaking voice had become almost unbearable to hear. Yet many listeners have found her emotional versions of such songs as "Glad to Be Unhappy," and "You've Changed" to be quite touching.
In May 1959, she collapsed from heart and liver disease. Still procuring heroin while on her death bed, she was arrested for possession in her private room. With her system unable to fight both withdrawal and heart disease at the same time, Billie Holiday died on July 17, 1959.
In May 1959, she collapsed from heart and liver disease. Still procuring heroin while on her death bed, she was arrested for possession in her private room. With her system unable to fight both withdrawal and heart disease at the same time, Billie Holiday died on July 17, 1959.
In defiance of her limited vocal range, Billie Holiday's use of tonal variation and vibrato, her skill at jazz phrasing, and her unique approach to the lyrics of popular songs were but some of the elements in the work of a truly original artist. Her clear diction, methods of manipulating pitch, improvising on a theme, the variety of emotional moods ranging from the joyously optimistic, flirtatious even, to the tough, defiant, proud, disillusioned and buoyantly barrelhouse, were not plucked out of the air nor acquired without practice. Holiday paid her dues in a demanding environment. That she survived at all is incredible; that she should become one of the greatest jazz singers there has ever been -- virtually without predecessor or successor -- borders on the miraculous.
Today, Billie Holiday is revered beyond her wildest imaginings in places which, in her lifetime, greeted her with painfully closed doors. Sadly, she would not have been surprised. As she wrote in her autobiography, "There's no damn business like show business. You had to smile to keep from throwing up." Any new student coming to popular music or jazz will, at some point, be directed to the work of Billie Holiday. Unquestionably, they will be moved and, in all probability, they will be amazed.
Today, Billie Holiday is revered beyond her wildest imaginings in places which, in her lifetime, greeted her with painfully closed doors. Sadly, she would not have been surprised. As she wrote in her autobiography, "There's no damn business like show business. You had to smile to keep from throwing up." Any new student coming to popular music or jazz will, at some point, be directed to the work of Billie Holiday. Unquestionably, they will be moved and, in all probability, they will be amazed.