A hardened fan since the trio albums, I have logged countless hours listening to Diana Krall’s beautifully-crafted albums. To hear her perform solo last Thursday in Niagara Falls (OLG Stage at Fallsview Casino) was a landmark event for me on the road to fully experiencing the depth of her talent — or any musician's, for that matter.
Expecting to hear a tight quartet of immaculately talented players, including one of my favourite jazz guitarists, Anthony Wilson, I was momentarily disappointed. This was soon replaced by the joy of hearing an artist without accompaniments, unencumbered by the limits of collaboration. In this format she was free to explore the interpretative possibilities offered by each tune and where she was at with herself and her artistic mood in the moment.
It felt experimental, as if that was her way of keeping things fresh and pleasurable . . .
Of course she wasn't alone, she had us, the audience who happened to be in the room. We got to bear witness to the voice and piano partaking, in a sense, in a dance of lovers. Strangely, it often felt as if we were at her house, just having good old time where she was drawn to the piano to have some fun, to noodle and try things out and be happy to do for and with us. Pieces of multi-page sheet music strewn in front of her on the Steinway grand . . . "What should we play next?" In the process we got to see how she hears these old standards and how she wants to express herself through them. And how she believes in them.
In her playing there was never a rendition of something that felt like she had played it the same way before. This was true ‘playing’ — what we all do in contrast to when we work — and it felt experimental, as if that was her way of keeping things fresh and pleasurable and in the present. As a result she made a few mistakes — dropping a beat or running out of notes in an ambitious phrase — and reproached herself for them, but with a wink to her house guests. Taking off again, she giggled at the imperfectness of it all: on to the next investigation.
I once read a story about Duke Ellington and Ella Fitzgerald in the audience in a club where Oscar Peterson was performing with his trio. During the break Oscar told Duke and Ella that he had been asked to do a solo concert and that he felt unsure about it, as if playing without a band might not be enough for the audience. “Oh, it will,” said Duke. “They will have caviar.”
At a Steinway grand and a microphone, Diana Krall holds court onstage in Niagara Falls, November 2024.
Having just turned 60 a few days before, Diana looked like she was in her mid-forties: gorgeous, girlish, confident in a shy way with the same wry twinkle in her eye and flirtatious half-twisted smile we’ve seen in interviews, teasing the lightness and irony out of a ponderous interviewer's questions. Again, investigating. We learned that she is charmed by her success in a good way — as if “Gosh, Pops, whatever happened to Kansas?” (Only in her case, it’s Nanaimo) — and that she is charming when she tries, somewhat reluctantly, to explain to us what is all means to her. More than once her sentences trailed off for lack of steam — “Where was I going with all that . . . who knows?” — and then she dove quickly back into what she does best. Brilliantly. Decisively. Every so often a finger of her right hand stabbed a high note — as if swatting a fly — to punctuate a tart syncopation at the end of a phrase. Her bare forearms, the result of someone who clearly works out and earns the benefit of hours of daily practice (probably including the sharp keys, as her colleague Bill Charlap told me he does) showed us the physical muscularity of a masterful instrumentalist; and, mentally, her keen understanding of technique and how gravity is the friend of the piano player's hands.
But it wasn’t only the music that shone. She showed a generosity of spirit in being herself with us, all 4000 of us, in being real and letting us in. We left the hall with something that we still have: a connection with the person, Diana Krall, who also sings and plays the piano — like a demon and an angel, note by note. ≈ç
WHITNEY SMITH is the Publisher/Editor of the Journal of Wild Culture. As a musician he performs monthly in Toronto with the Whitney Smith Big Steam Band.
Photos by the author.
Comments
Nice piece, hope you sent it…
Nice piece, hope you sent it to Diane.
Thank you! I don't have her…
Thank you! I don't have her address, but I guess I can send it to her agency.
Add new comment