Shirley Horn at Yoshi's in Oakland 8/28/00

by Alan Greenblatt

Shirley Horn arrives on stage looking a little like she's wandered into the wrong hotel ballroom, looking for an aunt's 80th birthday party. Her wig is teased out pretty good and she wears enormous earrings, visible from the far reaches of Yoshi's in Oakland this past Thursday night.

This was the first time I have seen Horn perform live. (I am happy to note that the cover charge at Yoshi's was $20, as compared with $50 -- plus a two-drink minimum -- when she appeared last month at the Bohemian Caverns in D.C.) She's quite awkward, saying almost nothing to the audience and looking pained when she has to ask for help regarding the microphone and so forth.

But she can caress a lyric. And she plays a pretty strong piano, although this aspect of her show was a bit marred by the overamplification of her bass hand.

Horn sang a few well-known songs such as "Summertime" and "How Am I to Know," with the rest of the material in a similar vein from her many recent albums. She dropped off the musical map for about three decades, re-emerging fairly late in life about ten years ago, after the kids were grown.

She is truly a master, singing short phrases in a small, velvety voice with almost no range, yet conveying all the feeling of a lyric. In fact, she made true one of the cliches about Billie Holiday, that she could imbue a song with more feeling than provided in the written text, with her stunning performance of Johnny Mandel's otherwise rather ordinary "Where Do You Start?" The place was so quiet, you could see people's faces crinkle in disappointment when a train rumbling outside upset the perfect mood.

Without making any such announcement, Horn brilliantly put together a "theme" show, portraying the full range of a love affair, its aftermath, and the bittersweet feelings of acceptance. It was the song-cycle effect Joni Mitchell tried for unsuccessfully with her recent CD, "Both Sides Now."

I didn't quite catch the names of the bass player and drummer when Horn grudingly announced them. They knew their place in the background, but did their jobs well. The bass player wore enormous square glasses with white plastic frames, an interesting answer to the dinky ovals so many of us are still wearing.