These Are The Days
After Susan Krebs’ ethereal set at the 1881 in Pasadena, I grabbed a moment with her to express my admiration for what we had just heard. Through the din of the buzzy room, I managed to gather that she curates two different bands which she calls “collectives.” Krebs has enjoyed a considerable career as an actress with over 90 film and TV credits. Today she models her musical life after the theater repertories from her past. In short, she keeps the same cats together, and they workshop and refine their material. From time to time, she presents those collaborations to the public with house concerts, turning her home into a true salon. Last night we were the beneficiaries of this approach, as she delivered a fresh and expressive set of reimagined familiar and obscure songs.
Krebs sings with admirable freedom. Never pedantic, she swoops in and hovers around the written melody, in the key, on pitch, unrestricted. She gives equal respect to the lyrics, making her at once an actor and a songstress. Think Mabel Mercer, if Mercer had been able to swing and sustain a pitch. Like Mercer, Krebs is a master of phrasing. Unlike Mercer, Krebs doesn’t talk the material.
The arrangements, incorporating unexpected bass grooves and thoughtfully timed hits, breathe and move organically and with purpose. She gave us Jerome Kern with a haunting reading of “Long Ago and Far Away,” the Beatles with an insightful “Eleanor Rigby” and a couple of Bob Dorough selections – “No Moon at All,” and the rarely heard Dorough/Fran Landesman song “Never Had the Blues At All.”
Like all of her Great American Songbook offerings, the tin pan alley standard “The Moon was Yellow” was given proper heft, not tossed off like a piece of nostalgia. Hank William’s “I’m So Lonesome I Could Cry” was minimalist and poignant with guitarist Tom Rizzo, bassist Ken Wild and percussionist Kendall Kay giving spare and effective support.
Krebs’ band of loyal compatriots was as superb as one would expect. Ken Wild, bass; Tom Rizzo, guitar; Kendall Kay drums/percussion; Rob Lockart, reeds. The evening of covers was enhanced by two interesting originals by guitarist Tom Rizzo.
Early in the evening I was sitting next to Judy Wexler, who curates the twice monthly jazz vocal nights at the 1881, which is Pasadena’s oldest tavern. I like the room. It’s comfortable, friendly, clean and unpretentious, a true neighborhood dive without the riff raff. They have a great neon sign out front.
There was a small scattering of people at the beginning of the evening. “I hope some people come in,” Wexler said. By the time Krebs was in full swing there was a very respectable audience, among them several heavy hitters from the jazz world, including Joe La Barbera, Bill Cunliffe, and Chuck Manning. As I was leaving after the first set percussionist Aaron Serfaty and the marvelous singer Liz Cole walked in. This speaks to the respect Susan Krebs has in the music community. “I love her,” Cole said.
Susan Krebs on YouTube:
The 1881 doesn’t always keep their website up to date, but upcoming shows are easy to track via social media.
Unfortunately, I have yet to perfect the art of being in two places at the same time. An added perk to my evening was catching part of Josh Nelson’s live broadcast on Kjazz from Sam First last night on my drive back into West Hollywood. I enjoyed his charming patter as he spoke about his gratitude for coming up on the LA jazz scene during the 90s. It was a time before cell phones, music streaming and the internet took over, when he could meet legends like Horace Silver and Hank Jones. He spoke fondly of the great KJazz DJs from the past, Chuck Niles, and Helen and Ken Borgers. Those were the days. But, if you do it right, these are the days, too.
Comments