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Author of Funny Valentine, an acclaimed new biography of the jazz trumpet player and singer, Chet Baker.
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Monday, 16 November 2015 09:10

Cassandra Wilson - 15th November, Royal Festival Hall, London

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Cassandra Wilson finally leaves her hotel room to take the stage. Hush now, don't explain.

"You go to my head," Billie Holiday sang. Something went to Cassandra Wilson's head on Sunday night, as she embarrassed the organisers of the EFG London Jazz Festival, and disappointed a sold-out audience, half of whom had left by the time she finally hit the stage.

The problems started at the interval. We had witnessed a short set by Benin-born guitarist Lionel Loueke. Whilst he is signed to Blue Note, and has worked with the likes of Herbie Hancock and Terence Blanchard, his solo work is hard to categorize. Many in the crowd seemed to admire his playing, as he coaxed some quite remarkable sounds from his guitar, rather than love the music. He left the stage after thirty minutes, and despite a fairly muted reaction, returned for an encore. The organisers were clearly aware of the problems that were unfolding, and needed to buy some time.

Cassandra Wilson was expected on stage by 8:30pm, but was nowhere to be seen. Fifteen minutes later, the booing and slow handclaps started, and by 9pm, some of the audience started to leave - one disgruntled man even leaving a note for the singer on the stage. The compere finally came to the stage at 9:15pm, and informed the restless crowd that Ms. Wilson had refused to leave her hotel. Members of her band had allegedly gone to her hotel to encourage her to play. The organisers were hoping she would make the show, and suggested we have a drink in the bar, and await further instructions. Refunds for the show would be dealt with on Monday. The announcement was met with further unrest, and half of the crowd gave up for the evening, many facing a long journey home before work next day.

One glass of wine later, it was announced that Cassandra Wilson would be playing an abbreviated, one-hour set, starting at 9:45pm, and we were urged to return to our seats. At this point, an explanation or an apology would have been appropriate, but we got neither. The band took to the stage on time, and we were treated to an eight-minute instrumental, which was unacceptable, under the circumstances. When she finally came on stage, she looked unsteady on her feet, her face half hidden by her right arm. She delivered a somewhat perfunctory version of Don't Explain, before berating some members of the audience for using their cellphones. And she didn't explain.

Crazy He Calls Me followed. Hints of her majestic singing tone came through, but it was sporadic, and it was clear that she didn't care much about the quality of the performance, which may as well have been phoned in from her hotel room. She finally revealed she had been sick that evening, and it had been a difficult tour. But if sickness was the real reason, the organisers would have said so. The bubbles in a glass of champagne, or perhaps a sip of sparkling burgundy brew, seemed a more likely explanation.

At the beginning of You Go To My Head, she explained that Billie Holiday respected her musicians, and often played a couple of choruses before she even started singing. Someone in the crowded shouted that she was no Billie Holiday, and it was no surprise to see her waltz off stage halfway through the song. The band battled on, starting the next tune without her, clearly uncertain as to whether she would return. When she missed her cue, the young saxophonist took to the front of the stage, delivering a pleasing solo, before being ushered to one side by the singer, mid-solo. Billie Holiday may have respected the musicians she worked with, but Cassandra Wilson did not.

There were occasional flashes of brilliance. Good Morning Heartache was better, and Run The Voodoo Down, from Traveling Miles, was excellent. But by then it was too late. People had started to drift to the exit, and when one of the crew reminded her that the one hour was up, it was clear there would be no encore. 

Before the show, I spoke to a jazz singer about Cassandra Wilson. Several of her friends had seen her perform, and had been underwhelmed. It was the first time for both of us, and we were really looking forward to the show. But we came away bitterly disappointed, and felt she had let down the audience, the organisers, her band and herself. Had this been an isolated incident, it would be easy to write it off, but attendees at several concerts have complained about the short sets and poor performance over the last few months. After the show, Twitter was set alight by the London jazz community, trying to ascertain what had happened. Hush now, don't explain...

Postscript: Cassandra Wilson has subsequently issued a statement on Facebook, blaming the promoter. The venue is blaming the singer, saying she failed to show up for the soundcheck, or at the agreed time, and is offering a full refund. The lawyers are the most likely winners. As a member of the audience, I felt badly treated by both sides and stand by every word of the review.

Read 7892 times Last modified on Monday, 16 November 2015 17:07

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