"I always wanted Bessie's big sound and Pops' feeling."
"I can't stand to sing the same song the same way two nights in succession, let alone two years or ten years. If you can, then it ain't music, it's close-order drill or exercise or yodeling or something, not music."
"Somebody once said we never know what is enough until we know what's more than enough."
"Don't threaten me with love, baby. Let's just go walking in the rain"
"Love is like a faucet, it turns off and on."
"If I'm going to sing like someone else, then I don't need to sing at all."
"A kiss that is never tasted, is forever wasted."
"I hate straight singing. I have to change a tune to my own way of doing it. That's all I know."
"If I don't have friends, then I ain't nothing."
"If you copy, it means you're working without any real feeling."
"I'm always making a comeback, but nobody ever tells me where I've been."
"I never had a chance to play with dolls like other kids. I started working when I was six years old."
"No two people on earth are alike, and it's got to be that way in music or it isn't music."
"Singing songs like 'The Man I Love' or 'Porgy' is no more work than sitting down and eating Chinese roast duck, and I love roast duck...I've live songs like that."
"Sometimes it's worse to win a fight than to lose."
Billie Holiday | Detaylar
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Billie Holiday in your extended network 26 Tem 2007 tarihinde devamı
Hakkımda: Billie Holiday, a true artist of her time had by the late 1950’s grown to prominent renown. Her sultry, soul inspired, unique singing style puts her in the category of one of the greatest jazz vocalists of all time.
Born Eleanora Fagan Gough on April 7, 1915, Billie grew up in jazz talent-rich Baltimore in the 1920s. As a young teenager, she would sing along with records by Bessie Smith or Louis Armstrong in after-hours jazz clubs. Her mother, Sadie Fagan, moved to New York in search of a better job, where Billie eventually joined her. She began singing in obscure Harlem nightclubs; her professional name, “Billie Holiday,” inspired by admired screen star Billie Dove. She had no technical training and didn't read music, yet Miss Holiday quickly became an active player in the most vibrant of jazz scenes in history. Moving from one club to another, working for no more than tips, she would sometimes sing with house piano players or as part of a group of performers.
By age 18, she was a fully-experienced vocalist. Spotted by John Hammond, she cut her first record as part of a studio group led by the not yet renowned, Benny Goodman. In 1935 she recorded four sides that went on to become hits, including "What a Little Moonlight Can Do" and "Miss Brown to You." By 1936 she had secured her own Vocalion race series contract billing her own orchestra where until 1942 she recorded master tracks that ultimately became American jazz standards.
In 1936, Miss Holiday began working with Lester Young, who gave her the now-famous nickname of "Lady Day." The white gardenias she often wore in her hair became her trademark. She joined Count Basie in 1937. When she joined Artie Shaw in 1938, she became one of the very first black women to work with a white orchestra.
While working with Columbia Records in the 1930's, Billie was introduced to the poem "Strange Fruit," about the lynching of a black man. Columbia refused to allow her to record the piece due to subject matter and Miss Holiday went on to record the song with Commodore. It became one her classics and she continued to sing and record many more emotionally-laden, signature ballads.
The 1940s were turbulent years. On the one hand, her career was in full bloom: she had hit records to her credit, and she was in demand on the theater and nightclub circuit. On the other hand, her emotional swings, her drinking habit, and her indulgence in first marijuana and then opium were taking their toll. She had married trombonist Jimmy Monroe; the marriage didn't last but, nearly as soon as it was over, she married Joe Guy, a trumpeter, and moved on to heroin. In 1947, she lost money trying to support her orchestra and her new husband, her mother died, she was arrested for possession of heroin and served eight months in prison. Due to the drug charges, her New York City Cabaret Card was revoked, which kept her from working in clubs there for the last twelve years of her life.
From 1952 to 1959, she recorded over 100 new recordings on the Verve label. She toured Europe during this period and made her final studio recordings for the MGM label in March of 1959. Ravaged by hard living, jail time, alcohol, and drugs, her voice grew less "fine and mellow," or more worn and narrower in range than in earlier years. There is a more languid delivery and veneer of vulnerability permeating her later work but Miss Holiday's artistry was not based on virtuosity; it was about interpretation, bringing out the emotions in a song and giving it an unmatchable depth of feeling and soul.
During her final year, she made two more appearances in Europe and gave one last performance at a benefit concert at the Phoenix Theater in Greenwich Village, New York City, on May 25, 1959. According to the masters of ceremony at that performance, renowned jazz critic, Leonard Feather and Steve Allen she was only able to make it through two songs, one of which was "Ain't Nobody's Business If I Do." before collapsing in May 1959 of heart and liver disease. On May 31, 1959, she was taken to Metropolitan Hospital in New York suffering from liver and heart disease. On July 12, she was placed under house arrest at the hospital for possession of heroin, despite evidence suggesting the drugs may have been planted on her. She was swindled out of her earnings and died with only $0.70 in the bank and $750 on her person.. Billie Holiday remained under police guard where on July 17, 1959, her system completely unable to fight both withdrawal and heart disease, she died an untimely death at the age of 44 from cirrhosis of the liver.
Despite her lack of technical training, Miss Holiday's unique diction, inimitable phrasing, rhythmic flexibility, and acute expressive intensity has made her one of the greatest treasures in jazz history and to one whose influence is eternally paid tribute by countless vocalists of diverse styles and cultures.
Hi dear, I came by today and listened to Strange Fruit. That song on the Fourth of July says everything about the hypocrisy of American independence. Thanks for keeping it available. Earlier today I watched James Earl Jones, Danny Glover and Brian Jones read/perform the same excerpt from Frederick Douglas' "The Meaning of July Fourth for the Negro" speech. Then I watched Alice Walker and Alfre Woodard read/perform Sojourners' And Ain't A Woman speech. Later I plan to view the entire broadcast of the reading/performance of Howard Zinn's A people's History of America on Democracy Now! I'm simultaneously writing a new poem titled Maturation. Right now I'm listening to Monk & Trane at Carnegie Hall and searching for a Baraka poem to email somebody. What are you doing with your independence today? ~J. OP!~
HI MY FRIEND BILLY HAVE A GREAT AND HAPPY THANKSGIVING!!!I HOPE YOUR Holidays ARE FULL OF MUSIC AND DANCE KEEP IN TOUCH YOUR FRIEND ALWAYS BLEU OCEAN XOXO
Still thinking of you, Miss Billie. And of course we miss you like crazy. You remain the brightest star in the jazz heavens for us..and you always will be there shining.
