Another of the big bold female singers of the 50's, with more waver and quaver than I'd like, as was the style thenabouts. And, for better or for worse, that voice is on full display, backed by the barest sparest brushing of drums and a piano finding its way to the microphone as if miles and ages away, leaving you alone with Vaughan in a bracingly intimate sonic space.
The other major point of note is the nuance of the performance, which is alternately charmingly spontaneous and distractingly sloppy. Vaughan handles her flub of Willow Weep for Me with grace, seemingly missing her cue by about 12 bars while the band vamps in place, and its fun watching them warp the whole affair back into place. There's a real sense of moment, of being in an actual, dark, smoky jazz club. But on How High the Moon everything just falls apart, and its uncomfortable watching Vaughan fall on her face. The MC on the first track explains that a lyrics sheet is being used, all of which leads one to wonder whether the singer even prepared for this. When a talent shows mortality it can lend them a winning humility, but unapologetic error taken too far instead reads as arrogance. It's a fine line, baby.
In the end, its a net win: it's better a performance should have character than perfection. It's a recording worth hearing, and it has many things a live album should, everything but a singer I actually care to listen to 2.5/5
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