In its sixty years as a jazz club, the Vanguard has headlined few women and fewer singers of either gender. But Salvant, virtually unknown two years earlier, had built an avid following, winning a Grammy and several awards from critics, who praised her singing as “singularly arresting” and “artistry of the highest class.”

She and her trio—a pianist, a bassist, and a drummer, all men in their early thirties—emerged from the dressing lounge and took their places on a lit-up stage: the men in sharp suits, Salvant wearing a gold-colored Issey Miyake dress, enormous pink-framed glasses, and a wide, easy smile. She nodded to the crowd and took a few glances at the walls, which were crammed with photographs of jazz icons who had played there: Sonny Rollins cradling a tenor saxophone, Dexter Gordon gazing through a cloud of cigarette smoke, Charlie Haden plucking a bass with back-bent intensity. This was the first time Salvant had been booked at the club—for jazz musicians, a sign that they’d made it and a test of whether they’d go much farther. She seemed very happy to be there.

The set opened with Irving Berlin’s “Let’s Face the Music and Dance,” and it was clear right away that the hype was justified. She sang with perfect intonation, elastic rhythm, an operatic range from thick lows to silky highs. She had emotional range, too, inhabiting different personas in the course of a song, sometimes even a phrase—delivering the lyrics in a faithful spirit while also commenting on them, mining them for unexpected drama and wit. Throughout the set, she ventured from the standard repertoire into off-the-beaten-path stuff like Bessie Smith’s “Sam Jones Blues,” a funny, rowdy rebuke to a misbehaving husband, and “Somehow I Never Could Believe,” a song from “Street Scene,” an obscure opera by Kurt Weill and Langston Hughes. She unfolded Weill’s tune, over ten minutes, as the saga of an entire life: a child’s promise of bright days ahead, a love that blossoms and fades, babies who wrap “a ring around a rosy” and then move away. When she sang, “It looks like something awful happens / in the kitchens / where women wash their dishes,” her plaintive phrasing transformed a description of domestic obligation into genuine tragedy. A hush washed over the room.

Wynton Marsalis, who has twice hired Salvant to tour with his Jazz at Lincoln Center Orchestra, told me, “You get a singer like this once in a generation or two.” Salvant might not have reached this peak just yet, he said. But, he added, “could Michael Jordan do all he would do in his third year? No, but you could tell what he was going to do. Cécile’s the same way.”

Read the full article on The New Yorker

Cécile McLorin Salvant on TKA

His mother listened to everything from gospel to country to Ray Charles, his father explored jazz. Tackling the piano at four, he composed his first piece of music at five and was playing professionally by the age of ten. Attending prestigious New Haven art schools, Sands went on to earn Bachelor of Arts and Masters degrees from the Manhattan School of Music, where he received his first Grammy® nomination (Best Latin Piano Solo) for Kenya Revisited.

While still in high school, Sands met legendary jazz pianist, composer, and educator Dr. Billy Taylor (1921-2010) and became his protégé, while listening to the Roots, A Tribe Called Quest, John Legend, Outkast and Nas. At 20, he caught the attention of renowned jazz bassist Christian McBride, who asked Sands to sit in with his band at New York’s famed Village Vanguard; this performance led to a permanent spot in McBride’s Inside Straight Trio. Sands went on to share the stage with giants such as Wynton Marsalis, Diane Reeves, Shelia E, and Randy Brecker, playing festivals and venues around the world. Both Marsalis and Vanity Fair named him a rising jazz star.

REACH features a potent core trio with bassist Yasushi Nakamura and drummer Marcus Baylor, and guest appearances by Gilad Hekselman (guitar), Marcus Strickland (tenor saxophone and bass clarinet), and Cristian Rivera (percussion). McBride, who co-produced the album, makes a cameo at the end of Bill Withers’ 1972 soul classic “Use Me” (one of two covers; all other tracks are Sands originals). Sands is skilled, soulful and melodic throughout, his energy and spirit altering with each tune.

Read the full article and interview at Noisey

Christian Sands on TKA

Here’s what Bob Boilen had to say:

“Red Baraat’s fusion of bhangra, go-go, hip-hop and jazz is driven by frontman Sunny Jain’s percolating playing of the dhol, a double-sided drum which forms the rhythmic lattice of support for their boisterous horns and guitar. And though Red Baraat graced the Tiny Desk five years ago, we had to have Jain’s band back to celebrate Holi, the Hindu festival of color, of good over evil, and the coming of spring…their uplifting spirits lingered on, giving us a chance to shake off the final days of winter and demonstrating why music is so essential to the soul.”

Check out the performance at NPR Music

Red Baraat on TKA