Erik Erikson's Review in the Northeast Music Review

Young Champian Fulton (see our interview on page one of this issue) has, in her early twenties, already realized a large portion of her dream. To be a part of jazz history, to sing regularly at one of the world’s most famous jazz clubs and to work with top-flight musicians while honing her art – all of that has come to pass for her and the future seems bright indeed. Testament to her achievement is this recording, one of unsullied excellence, reflecting both her native talent and easy, astute employment of it.

Fulton is both an accomplished singer and a canny pianist, able to accompany herself with sophistication as well as blend with any smart ensemble. Her colleagues here are arranger/and leader David Berger (an instructor at Juilliard) and The Sultans of Swing, a charging big band whose name comes from an important group in the earlier decades of jazz. The band plays with both power and close attention to technical sharpness, a right combination for playing up-front - and accompanying their singer. This combination plays two sets each Tuesday night at Birdland, that iconic home to mainstream and leading-edge jazz for decades. This CD gives a satisfying sampling of what the customers hear.

Champian Fulton has developed her own style, but certain parallels are helpful in describing her approach. Modern jazz singing developed in the 1930s, advancing from the hefty-voiced blues shouters of the two decades preceding. The Kansas City school, as exemplified by Jay McShann and Count Basie valued buoyant, floating swing as opposed to the more emphatic style favored by East Coast. While it is widely understood that Basie’s band was the incubator in which Lester “Prez” Young perfected his subtle, suggestive approach to tenor sax and the very young Billie Holliday came to prominence, Basie’s stunning ensemble had a second female singer of wondrous gifts and it has been said that the leader actually preferred her to Holliday. Helen Humes had an instrument lighter and higher in placement than Lady Day and swung with infectious insouciance, though she was almost ignored when recordings documenting the Basie band were made. She passed into jazz history for a time until record producers rediscovered her in the late 50s and invited her to make some recordings, recordings that won appreciative reviews and made her name a celebrated one.

Another singer, one of the best in jazz annals, created for herself a key role, but is now little known to most jazz enthusiasts. Mildred Bailey, once married to vibraphonist Red Norvo, also had a high, light voice which she deployed with an irresistible sense of swing and a compelling irony. Her recordings should be required listening for all who undertake jazz singing.

This type of jazz singer, rather than the sumptuous foursome, Sarah Vaughan, Ella Fitzgerald, Diane Reeves or Carmen McRae, is the template for Fulton’s art. Like Humes and Bailey, she possesses wit and secure judgment about phrasing and inflection, never overdoing as do so many wanna-bes who over-cook their stylings in order to sound sultry. There is a sheen to Fulton’s work that wears well; one always senses an authenticity that doesn’t have to exaggerate in order to command attention.

David Berger, who has written arrangements played by countless bands world-wide, has fashioned fourteen for Fulton, each tailored to offer the best possible setting. Months of refining them has led to one of the most rewarding jazz vocal albums of recent years. Rooted in the tradition of Swing, Berger’s charts are nonetheless as current as today, all of them providing a custom fit for Fulton. The songs here are all gems of varying moods and modes, ranging from Irving Berlin’s whimsical He Ain’t Got Rhythm to a shimmering This is Always. A just balance between ballads and up-tempo numbers is carefully observed to assure effective pacing and a well-rounded experience. One cannot suppress a smile as one number after another flows by, each done with such specificity, such consummate polish. Singer, band and director work together wonderfully.

Listen, for example, to Champian Fulton’s take on I Didn’t Mean a Word I Said, a performance that captures, with artful economy of gesture, every implication of words and melody. Then there is There Ain’t Nobody Here But Us Chickens, ripe with sly humor both in Fulton’s vocal inflection and Berger’s chuckling (clucking?) arrangement. The final number, Never-the-Less is Berger’s own, a setting of words by Jon Hendricks with Fulton accompanying herself, gracefully and elegantly. In his articulate program notes, Berger states that this record is “dedicated to that world of wit, manners, grace, and the undying universal desire to believe that love conquers all.”

Berger put it perfectly; that this first recording by him, the indefatigable Sultans and his starry young singer has succeeded so completely gives us confirmation regarding the ongoing vitality of jazz. Having followed Champian Fulton’s progress from gifted student to high-achieving professional, we derive special pleasure from recommending this recording. This we do without reservation; it’s a marvelous release.