Being a female jazz singer is an exceedingly difficult role. Jazz fans are notorious tormentors quick to assassinate all forms of hypersensitivity because it unveils a pathos that is much too heavy to bear; and they are prompt to decry any excessive technique that might defeat the sensibilities of an otherwise perfect voice. And whose voice could pride itself on its perfect technique and a totally natural sensitivity? One is tempted to answer “none,” because all the most beautiful voices, from Billie to Carmen and from Ella to Helen, have one day shown excess. Sarah Vaughan included. But when Sarah disclosed her restrained sensitivity and a technique superior to all others, she was unrivalled, even by the greatest.

Her vocal range, of course, allowed her to be daring, and her inborn feeling for rhythm, melody and harmony placed her in the bosom of the orchestra, at the heart of the music. But whether her material was jazz, decidedly so, or intended for performance in front of a wider public, as in the cocktail of songs gathered here, Sarah always knew how to unveil a sensibility that was profound and yet light enough to move us. She had just what it takes to remove our shell of jaded urbanity.