Released in June of 1958, Billie Holiday's Lady In Satin LP turns 65 years old this month. Recorded at a time in her career when her abilities as a vocalist were eroded by her lifestyle, the soft pop backdrop of its orchestrations created a stark contrast with her weathered vocalizations. It's a combination which didn't suit some, but others found heartbreakingly beautiful in its world-weary fragility.
At this point in her career, Holiday had just come off a recording contract which had her mostly recording with small jazz combos for the past seven years, but the singer was looking to do something different, aiming for a kind of sound which had become popular for Ella Fitzgerald and Frank Sinatra as they released lushly orchestrated "song book" albums of pop vocal classics. Billie had taken a liking to the work of bandleader, Ray Ellis, and specifically requested to work with him as she embarked on this new chapter of her career.
By this point in her life, some hard living had taken its tole on her voice, leaving her with limited range in the higher registers and a raspy, rough tone. Within the jazz music scene, that sound could be adaptable to the material and actually enhance the emotional depth of the performances. Trying to bring that effect into the landscape of silky smooth orchestral pop was much more of a challenge. The end results garnered mixed responses as some simply couldn't bridge the gap between the rawness of her voice and the softness of the musical arrangements. However, those with a more dynamic emotional sensitivity recognized the stark contrast as a statement in itself, highlighting that contrast as a creative choice. For me, it's an album of rare fragility which veils a deeper sense of inner personal strength.
