To cultivate your storytelling skills, you first need to be deeply connected to the text. Start by speaking the lyrics as a poem without singing them. See how they feel like everyday language. Observe where the language is more imaginative or tongue-in-cheek. And when you sing, remember to speak to your audience in a more conversational manner. Don’t push your voice into a false position on every word. Many times, less is more. Sometimes singing in a hushed, almost whispered voice on a more sensitive lyric has a more effective impact than belting out a dramatic high note. So be mindful of the interplay between hushed tones and bold moments.
The words themselves also contribute to the narrative arc. With jazz, you can modify, add, or even insert words that enable more truthful expression. The singer may need to sing “I can’t help it” for three bars to really express the resignation that goes along with that sentiment. Or the singer might sing “maybe” six times to capture a doubt that’s growing more and more profound. These adaptations and additions aren’t just embellishments; they are as crucial to the narrative arc as a novelist’s use of sentence length or a director’s use of camera cuts. Pay attention to how Carmen McRae might repeat a single phrase so that it moves from despair to defiance. Pay attention to how Sarah Vaughan turns any simple question into a plaintive one that haunts the listener long after the song is over. Do this not so that you can imitate those artists, but so that you can begin to recognize how the manipulation of a lyric can also enhance the narrative.
This rapport between the singer and the audience can deepen if the singer is able to relate her material in a way that seems conversational rather than scripted. This kind of truthfulness creates identification with the listener and there are no secrets in jazz. If you sing about your sadness, it is OK to feel some of that pain in the moment, but don’t get hysterical. If you sing about feeling good, let the audience feel some of your joy, but don’t force it. The listener can relate more to the singer and hear the song as coming from an individual and not from the printed page. Over the years, as the audience trusts the singer, it is possible to have the listener connect with even the most hackneyed standards if the singer has put his or her soul in it.
It’s clear: to sing jazz lyrics is to take on the mantle of interpretation. Each time you choose to perform a standard, you’re assuming its interpretation for that moment. You’re its steward, or even its representative. When you sing it, you’re becoming one link in that song’s endless chain of interpretation. And there’s nothing quite like the warm light that comes from hearing someone interpret a lyric with depth and substance. It’s like eavesdropping on something that feels private. The singer, and by extension, the listener, are hearing something deeply human. When the singer makes the lyric primary, instead of the voice, the whole performance feels less spectacle, less even performance, and more like someone speaking their truth across a crowded room.