Satin Doll - I'm Glad There Is You

Supper Club Jazz was the epitome of the lounge era. Although many chanteuses tried their hands at singing with the minimal accompaniment of guitar and bass, Julie London was the undisputed queen of "supper club jazz" in both voice and attitude. Listen to songs like "Black Coffee", "My Heart Belongs To Daddy", and "Nice Girls Don't Stay For Breakfast" and just feel the wanting, sexuality, and pre-60's feminism drip from the speakers of your stereo.
These days "supper club jazz" is almost as extinct as the clubs that inspired the music. If you search deep enough, you might find a group at a bistro that can give you a competent reading of "Misty" or "Come Rain or Come Shine". None that I've heard-I like fine dining-- come close to approximating the mastery of the Satin Doll Trio of Washington, D.C. The trio is a fixture in the finer restaurants and nightclubs of the District. But they've done their homework: paying homage to Ms. London, Sarah Vaughan, Blossom Dearie, and Carmen McRae without regressing into blatant mimicry. The result is a growing number of fans who long for a more relaxed era, and one critic in the Midwest who might have to pencil in a trip to D.C. to catch them.
"I'm Glad There Is You (Romantic Jazz Classics)" is the Trio's second release and it is masterful in creating a mood. Bassist Fred Ferris keeps the rhythms in a tight pocket, allowing guitarist Ken Kilpatrick to craft melody lines and inventive chord structures that would make Barney Kessel proud. But those two are the foundation for singer Patrice Ferris. She doesn't possess the breathy voice of Ms. London (that would require a lot of scotch and cigarettes), but Ms. Ferris' has a rich timbre that she utilizes when needed, and her phrasing on tracks like "Easy Street", "Nevertheless", and "Rock Me To Sleep" is spot-on and creative. The result is the breathing of new life into timeless classics. The songs unfold effortlessly and naturally; which is something sorely lacking in an age of instant gratification, where meals are more likely to be brown-bagged and hastily wolfed down during rush hour than savored over a perfect martini. ~Lee Prosser