Less is more

Diana Krall balances grit with gracefulness

by Jim Macnie

When Impulse! Records released Diana Krall's Love Scenes last summer, the pianist played an afternoon gig outside a record store in lower Manhattan. Krall's career had been gaining momentum over the last few years, and after the show you could tell just how far she had come. The line for the meet 'n' greet autograph session looped throughout the aisles, zealots stretching down past the Ellington section, around the Toots and the Maytals bin, and over toward the Irish music. That's what you call global impact.

Outside a woman was waiting for her husband, who was stuck near the Latin racks with the couple's infant in his arms. "I hope he doesn't have her sign the baby," she grimaced. I asked her what it was they dug about Diana. "Oh, we saw her in Montreal last year, and we really like the way she sings. When she's on stage, you feel you're listening to someone you know."

Krall looked a bit bewildered by the whole autograph deal -- isn't this something pop stars do? -- but her pleasantry shined through, aided by interest in some of the quizzical characters awaiting her John Hancock. In the 12 months since, Love Scenes has sold enough copies to place the pianist in competition with certain pop stars. Produced by Impulse! boss Tommy LiPuma, it's full of woo being pitched, moments being stolen, and the bittersweet feel of l-o-v-e falling by the wayside. It also makes room for a little bit of sass. If All For You, Krall's Grammy-nominated '96 nod to Nat King Cole's trio, was about the delight of rhythmic romping, then Love Scenes is about jazz's fascination with the contours of romance. Krall and company (she's joined by bassist Christian McBride and guitarist Russell Malone) make their instrumental voices imply an unusual blend of richness and intimacy. The singer knows that a well-placed whisper can have the same emotional impact as a growl.

"I believe that these songs don't have to be sold," she says. "You don't have to impress with flashy stuff to get your point across.

What the thirtysomething Krall does is somewhat unusual in jazz. There hasn't been a hell of a lot of singing pianists to get props for both skills. Fats Waller, Shirley Horn and, of course, Nat Cole himself, whose drummerless trio could go from silly to sublime in just a bar or two. Krall's been playing piano for almost two decades. Her minimalist tack is miles away from Waller's splash and Horns impressionism. Fearful of falling into the pretension that's sometimes the end result of expressionism, she tries to milk the most she can from a less-is-more approach.

"Laying out is an important part of my style," she laughs. "I try to play only when it's artistically necessary. But that makes sense. I put myself in this position to get my butt kicked, and get some experience. Playing with guys like these? Harmonically, there's so much going on it's ridiculous. I listen to the curve balls they throw, and I try to throw some back."

Anyone who has heard Krall of late knows there are plenty of sparks flying around the trio's work, and the leader often lights the fuse. Up on stage, Krall flecked a few of her solos with dissonant notes that gave some grit to the gracefulness. "I don't know if I'd call them odd per se," she retorts when asked about such decisions, "but I do try to play what's interesting. Ellington and Monk used those notes. I hope I've gotten a bit more daring with my stuff."

Freelance bassist Marty Ballou believes Krall's piano work has had some zip for a long time. Back in the early '90s, he was part of her trio for weekly dates in the Boston Harbor Hotel. Then a virtual unknown, the pianist would hike it up to Beantown from New York to hone her chops.

"She'd play things that were really beautiful in terms of feeling," Ballou recalls, "and she was definitely playing into the group, as opposed to someone who is just playing along. Some people play out from their instrument, away from the bandstand. But she's totally interactive, contributing to the way the music is built."

"I always approach my phrasing with the idea of responding to whatever else is going on music-wise," agrees Krall. "I don't have a very analytical view of singing or playing. I just react. Because it's not me being accompanied, it's us three operating as a group."

Bassist Ben Wolfe, currently on tour with the pianist, believes the same. "Oh, she's right there with you," he reports, "always giving you things to work with." The trio has spent the last year traveling the world, honing its rapport. Here's how it works: guitarist Malone throws out pithy lines that sizzle with energy and wit. Bassist Wolfe makes the rhythms hightail it while creating insightful harmonic girders. And the pianist herself bounces the keys with a grace and oomph that demonstrates how aplomb comes naturally to some musicians. All of their tunes -- from Peggy Lee's "I Love Being Here with You" to Percy Mayfield's "Lost Mind" -- find Krall being shrewd about the phrases she uses. Hers is a careful music that somehow manages to sustain the bounce.

Krall is intermittently dissed for her use of standards and other tunes of yore. The singer's not alone in wrestling with the question of updating classics. Everyone from vets like Joe Henderson to newcomers like Rosanna Vitro try to get a leg-up in the marketplace by hawking chestnuts. Is it an easy way into people's hearts? Or just the road young musicians must stroll as they move toward individuality?

"We're not trying to copy people in our interpretations," Krall says with a concerned look. "And believe me, it's something we think a lot about. Are we nostalgic because we interpret stuff that's been done already? I'm very careful to avoid that. Like `Peel Me a Grape,' which I've been doing for a while. That's Blossom Dearie's signature tune. I did it once or twice and everyone began asking for it. Now it's part of the show. I spoke with Nancy Wilson about it: `I did a song you did with George Shearing; maybe I shouldn't have touched that.' She said, `Don't think like that. So what if I did that first? Do it your way.' It was encouraging." Krall doesn't sweat the manner in which people wind up digging the group's music. To her, improvisation shouldn't be a puzzle contest. "The thing I like most is when someone comes up and says, `You know, I don't really like jazz, I don't know anything about it. But I really like what you do.' That's a great reaction -- don't worry about it, it ain't rocket science. If it makes you feel good, fine.

"Of course, you can really get into analyzing it. Russell and I have long talks about the music after the show all time. If people like it because it feels breezy, good. It's supposed to sound simple, deceptively so. I'm a big fan of writers like e.e. cummings -- guys who use very common words, like sun, moon, stars, but combine them in an artistic fashion, put them together in a complex way."

Krall's parents have had sway over their daughter from the get-go. Her father plays piano; he encouraged Diana to do the same. In high school in British Columbia, she rocked the house during dinner parties where everyone would eventually help out in the vocal department. The repertoire was built around assorted Waller tunes and juke joint ditties like "Hard Hearted Hannah." Though there was a Peter Frampton poster up on her bedroom wall, and skis on the roof of the car, it was the older tunes and their unavoidable emotions that became Krall's most passionate hobby. Diana, who claims her grandmother's singing voice as one her prime joys, says her dad played to a similar throng a generation earlier.

"My grandparents' house was almost the neighborhood pub at one time," she enthuses. "Nana would say, `Last night I turned on the porch lights for everyone to go home, and the sun was coming up!' So they had quite a few good times there.

After high school, Krall's secret hobby wasn't secret any longer. She traded one B.C. for another, and wound up at Berklee College of Music in Boston on a scholarship. After a couple of years there, she headed back home to the Vancouver Island burg of Nanaimo, gigging in local jazz pubs like Tio's. That's when she was befriended by bassist Ray Brown. He recommended a trip down to L.A. and some study with the superb pianist Jimmy Rowles. After years accompanying vocalists, Rowles was beginning to try his hand at a little singing himself. Krall caught him whispering his way through "My Buddy," and became smitten with a reductionist theory of interpretation.

"There's a lot of pressure on some singers to be flamboyant," she frowns. "It's something that says you're not a jazz singer unless you go for broke with your improvising. I don't buy that. Sticking something in where it's not needed is silly."

Krall readily admits spending years singing along with Ernestine Anderson records, trying to find a place where she could be comfortable. "That spot," she believes, "is where the emotion one's trying to project will sound most natural. Since her popular appeal is partially built on the informality of her art, she doesn't scat much. Exaggerated behavior just doesn't flow naturally. I'm someone who sings, not a singer in the sense that Vanessa Rubin is a singer and Dianne Reeves," she assures. "Cassandra [Wilson] is a vocalist, so's Nnenna Freelon -- they're great. I'm still searching, but it comes a bit easier these days."

That's a bit too self-effacing. Krall has the talent to captivate. There's a palpably energized concentration when she and Malone duet on "I Don't Stand a Ghost of a Chance With You." In an often frenetic jazz world, it's a performance that depicts a formidable sense of privacy.

The singer is quite aware of candor's benefits. "The trio has enabled me to discover a quietness. I appreciate the intimacy at hand. You're very exposed, but the outcome can be fantastic. My mother once gave me some great advice when I tried to get a bit more flamboyant: `You know what, honey, you're not a belter.' And you know what? I'm not. Thank God for mom's honesty."

Diana Krall will perform at the JVC Jazz Festival-Newport on Saturday. See "Concert" listings for complete details.