Jazz/blues singer Tammy McCann paid a visit from her home in Chicago to 54 Below in NYC to celebrate The Legendary Ladies of Jazz—Billie Holiday, Ella Fitzgerald, Sarah Vaughan, and Dinah Washington. There was nothing edgy or adventurous about the choice of singers, or songs, but I suppose that was to be expected. It did give the show an “out-of-town” patina for someone who comes armed with a love of, and history with, the singers and repertoires in question (like this writer), but for most audiences it was the singing that wins or loses the evening, and McCann won on every level. She was charmingly daunted to be stepping into “New York cabaret” and that prestigious club in particular; she was openly thrilled to be singing these iconic songs, and her excitement and joy were contagious.
She was accompanied by an accomplished trio—Arcoiris Sandoval on piano, John Sims on bass, and JakubuGriffin on drums. Each one contributed to the success of the night, but I might have wished for them to vary their attack a bit more and allow for more open, delicate musical backing, which might have allowed McCann to do the same with her vocals. Her blues side was a bit too present in some songs that might have been better served with a jazzier, or even a more cabaret, attack. Sims on bass fared best, and on the other side of the coin, Griffin occasionally seemed to be playing in a different show.
Tammy McCann(Photo: Mary Rafferty)
Billie Holiday started the tributes, with “What a Little Moonlight Can Do” (Harry M. Woods) proving a bright, crowd-pleasing opener in a fiery arrangement that ended with the singer having great fun with those classic “…do…oo…oo….oo.” A Gershwin feel-infused “God Bless the Child” (Holiday, Arthur Herzog, Jr.) with a welcome heft and darkness that worked really well. “Don’t Explain” (Holiday, Herzog) was an early highlight, transforming the usual self-pity of a victim into an almost triumphant romantic statement. Here was a great singer making a song her own.
Next up was Ella Fitzgerald, livening the mood with a sprightly “How High the Moon” (Morgan Lewis, Nancy Hamilton) that captured Fitzgerald’s legendary effervescence. Turning on a dime, McCann gave a stunningly dramatic take on “Day Dream” (Billy Strayhorn), floating the words over the tense, insistent rhythms. Hoagy Carmichael’s “Stardust” called to mind another legendary lady, Della Reese, especially in the richness of her lower notes.
“I’ve Got the World on a String” (Harold Arlen, Ted Kohler) opened the Sarah Vaughan section in fine style. The inevitable “Misty” (Errol Garner, Johnny Burke) pointed up a problem that infected a number of songs in this show, but it is by no means an unusual one. Many jazz singers, McCann included, have a lax, lazy relationship with the original lyrics of the songs they sing. Particularly in a tribute show celebrating the art of the original singers and songwriters, to not scrupulously deliver the actual songs being feted is irritating to say the least. It seems like some “jazz” vocalists assume that taking liberties with the words is part of the freedom and looseness embodied in the musical arrangements, but it would be a rare singer indeed who could improve on Strayhorn’s, or Carmichael’s, or Sondheim’s words. It proved an irksome and easily avoidable distraction from the singer’s performance.
The Dinah Washington section provided another of the shows highlights with a spectacular blues “sermon” called “Loud Talkin’ Woman” (Helen Humes, Joseph Jarman) that showed McCann totally in her element and taking the stage with a commanding strength and energy. “What a Difference a Day Makes” (Stanley Adams, Maria Grever) has been done by so many singers that it is hard to make it special, but the singer did just that. Her most audacious choice was her final song, returning to Sarah Vaughan for “Send in the Clowns” (Stephen Sondheim, from A Little Night Music). It was the most effective recall of the style and power of the original icon while, remarkably, also making it her most personal and telling performance. It was a thrilling performance.
One last reservation and again, it is a common “ailment” and not exclusive to McCann. For most of the set, the singer never stopped moving. Current jazz singers feel the need or give in to the urge to dance, and gyrate, and sway to whatever rhythm the musicians are providing. It removes the audience from the story and it often becomes tedious to watch in every instrumental and every uptempo number. Anyone who has seen footage (or who was lucky enough to have seen any of these legends in performance) would immediately see that for the most part they were still. They were living in the music and stories they were delivering. There is a lesson in that for every singer currently on the scene. However, it was another distraction that did not hurt the evening in any serious way.
The Legendary Ladies of Jazz was a real delight; I could have listened to Tammy McCann singing all night long. She’s a very special vocalist.
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Presented at 54 Below, 254 W. 54th St., NYC, on July 18, 2025.
Gerry Geddes, critic for BistroAwards.com, is an award-winning director, writer, teacher, performer, lyricist, and a contributor to the podcast Troubadours and Raconteurs. He conceived and directed the acclaimed musical revues Monday in the Dark with George (Bistro and MAC Award winner), Put on Your Saturday Suit—Words & Music by Jimmy Webb, and Gerry Geddes & Company (in its five-year residency at Pangea). He has directed singers André De Shields, Darius de Haas, Helen Baldassare, and Lisa Viggiano. He has been active in the cabaret world for over five decades and has produced numerous CDs; his lyrics have been performed and recorded here and in Europe. Gerry’s workshop, The Art of Vocal Performance, is regularly offered to singers of all levels. His memoir of life in NYC, Didn’t I Ever Tell You This?, was recently published and is available at barnesandnoble.com. He is currently at work on his first novel.
