The jazz world could use a few more Catherine Russells. Not just because this Grammy Award-winning artist is a wonderful singer, with an appealing sound and a sure sense of swing; but because she takes such great care in her choice of songs, arrangements, and musicians. And her ever-growing repertoire of songs from the 1920s, ’30s, ’40s, and ’50s includes an abundance of riches.
I’ve been impressed by her since she first came onto the scene. I’m delighted to see the place that she’s made for herself in the jazz world, and the widespread recognition of her gifts that’s come about in the last 20 years. This year she’s been a jazz-master-in-residence at Harvard University.
Since making her recording debut as a leader in 2006, three of her nine albums have received Grammy nominations. She sang on Vince Giordano’s Grammy Award-winning Boardwalk Empire soundtrack album. She’s won awards ranging from the NYC Nightlife Award to the Grand Prix of the Hot Club of France. The latest honor she’s received was the presentation, on April 14, 2025, of a Bistro Award (her second to date), at the 40th Annual Bistro Awards Ceremony in New York City.
As I write this, her upcoming dates this spring include performances in France, Italy, and Angola, before returning to the US for the High-Country Jazz Festival in Boone, Norh Carolina, and the Twin Cities Jazz Festival in St. Paul, Minnesota. (I think she’d be an asset to any jazz festival.)
Oh, I’m happy to see Catherine Russell perform any time, any place, with any sort of accompaniment. And if she is performing anywhere near where you live, in any context—whether she’s appearing in a jazz festival, or in a concert hall, or in a club, with a full band or just a pianist—go! You won’t be disappointed.
But for me it’s an extra-special treat when she plays Birdland—as she periodically does—with her own band (Matt Munisteri, music director). There isn’t a bad seat in that famed New York jazz club. She’s really got a terrific band. And the audiences there really appreciate the fine mix of entertainment and education she offers. She takes care to credit who wrote and arranged the various songs she sings, and the artists who originally introduced or popularized those songs. And she appreciatively credits, too, the first-rate musicians she has, who showcase her so well. Gianni Valenti, who’s run Birdland for 40 years, is always happy to bring Catherine Russell back.
Let me tell you about one performance at the club that I caught this year. And I’m still beaming, just thinking about it. I went out that night, against doctor’s orders. (I’ve been dealing with some health issues.) But she was better medicine for me than anything else. I don’t think there’s a jazz singer working today I enjoy more.
She swings with such ease, and warmth, and freedom, I wish I could tell every one of the younger singers who’ve ever recorded for me or have been in a musical of mine: “Go see her! You can learn so much about connecting with a song, and with the musicians you’re working with, and with the audiences.”
I had such a terrific time; I’d feel remiss if I didn’t share some of the high points of the night.
She sang “Blue Turning Gray”—which she noted was composed by Fats Waller, with lyrics by Andy Razaf—as well as I’m ever likely to hear it in my lifetime. (I first fell in love with that song from Louis Armstrong’s 1930 recording of it. Countless singers, from Maxine Sullivan to Ringo Starr, have recorded it in the years since.) And what majestic work Jon-Erik Kellso contributed on trumpet. Brilliant! I love that rich, burnished tone of his. And I was sitting in my favorite seat, front-row center, so each well-shaped note from Kellso’s open horn was hitting me—smack—right in the face!
Russell and her band got right in the pocket—finding that perfect spot in terms of tempo, feel, mood—on “Ev’ntide.” It’s a great Hoagy Carmichael song, famously recorded in 1936 by Louis Armstrong. Catherine Russell was too modest to mention it, but her father, pianist Luis Russell, played on that original recording—he was Armstrong’s musical director in that era.
And she found every bit of beauty in that song—which, alas, is rarely heard today—with the band rocking her gently. She has a real jazz musician’s feel for the music. She sings the song like she’s a fellow musician in the band. The rapport is strong; she’s one with them. And that’s a high compliment.
She’s recorded “Ev’ntide,” and it was a joy for me to hear her perform it live. Honestly, I could have gone home right after she finished that song and still I would have felt I’d had the best night out in a good while. She just got inside of that song so well. But there were many more rewards in the night.
She kept surprising us. She’s always finding new songs to try out. As she put it: “Jazz is a school you never graduate from; you just keep learning.” It felt comfortable—like being in her own living room—as she tried out material she’d never before sung in public, intermixed with old favorites. She dug into a Tiny Bradshaw jump-blues noting that Bradshaw had worked with her dad for a while in late 1930s. After finishing the song, she decided she liked it; and the audience clearly did, too. She commented, “That’s the maiden voyage for that number…. I’ll keep that one!”
I hung on every word (“Slow up, Papa… Mama likes to take her time….”) as she slinked through a sly, obscure 1920s Lizzie Miles blues that she felt like singing this evening. And every member of her seven-piece band was cooking along nicely with her, from Matt Munisteri’s well-chosen, individually plucked notes on the intro, to Evan Arntzen’s soulful, low-register clarinet work, to the commentary offered by Jon-Erik Kellson on trumpet (getting an appropriately dirty tone here) and John Allred on plunger-muted trombone.
I enjoyed the way she eased through “My Old Flame,” with the horns cushioning her well. She noted she liked Billie Holiday’s version of that song best, but sang it with conviction in her own way. (Sam Coslow and Arthur Johnston actually wrote the song for Mae West, who sang it with the Duke Ellington Orchestra in her 1934 motion picture Belle of the Nineties.)
The timeless ballad “My Ideal” (by Richard Whiting, Leo Robin, and Newell Chase, 1930) featured some first-rate tenor work by Evan Arntzen. (Incidentally, “My Ideal” is also the title song of her latest album; and you can also find on YouTube a music video that she and pianist Sean Mason have made of her singing it.)
She sang Burton Lane and Ralph Freed’s buoyant “How About You?” which young Judy Garland and Mickey Rooney introduced in the 1941 motion picture, Babes on Broadway. And Red Allen’s “Whatcha Gonna Do When there Ain’t No Swing” from 1936.
She put over—with great verve—a Blanche Calloway number from 1935, “You Ain’t Livin’ Right.” And her seven musicians put everything they had into that number, projecting the energy of a big band. She remarked aptly, afterwards: “I gave these guys a workout with that one.” Blanche Calloway, for those who may not know the name, was the older sister of Cab Calloway. Blanche got into show business before Cab did (and she inspired Cab to do the same, he told me). There aren’t many jazz singers today who’d even know who Blanche Calloway was—much less be exploring her legacy. But I like the way Catherine Russell has continued to add songs to her repertoire since she started out. She sings a lot of material no one else is singing. And she’s got musicians (including Jon-Erik Kellso, Mark Lopeman, and Matt Munisteri) crafting excellent arrangements for her.
For me, it was a tremendous treat hearing Catherine Russell sing “(I like Pie, I Like Cake, but…) I Like You Best of All.” I thought I just might be the only person left who knew that song. (I even recorded it once.) I never expected to hear it sung live. But she sang it with great elan, finding all of the fun in that song. She noted that it was recorded by the Jeter-Pillars Plantation Club Band—a territory band based in St. Louis, Missouri, in the 1930s and early ’40s. That band only recorded four sides—one of which was “(I Like Pie, I Like Cake, but…) I Like You Best of All.” I’m glad she found that recording; her joy in performing the song was infectious. And her band played with such zest, I just felt very grateful to be there. And the enthusiastic audience that had come to Birdland to see her was clearly having a good time.
I wish more singers would follow her example and seek out all kinds of songs to sing. So many singers limit themselves to a very small group of very familiar standards. I like Russell’s approach more. You never know what’s coming next. Not every song is necessarily going to grab you, but there’s a certain fun in just seeing a good singer and good musicians find what they can in all sorts of songs. And try to put their own marks on the material. I love artists who take chances.
May I offer a random postscript? While I was writing this article, I got interrupted by a phone call from an actress friend of mine, who was all upset because she’s just had her 30th birthday. “I’m 30 now, Chip. THIRTY!” she exclaimed, as if she’d just been handed a death sentence. “When I was 20, I was sure that by the time I was 30, I’d be a wife with two kids and be a Broadway star. None of that has happened! And no one really wants you after you’ve turned 30.” I try to tell her that her life isn’t over because she’s turned 30; I remind her that Sophie Tucker said, “Life begins at 40.” But she insists: “You have no idea what it’s like to turn 30! You’ve been old for as long as I’ve known you, Chip. You don’t remember what it’s like to turn 30.” I offer her my condolences, and tell her I have to get back to work on a piece that I’m writing.
But she’s got me thinking. Jazz is a pretty good profession in which to grow old. And so many of my favorite singers and musicians—from Louis Armstrong to Cab Calloway, to Buck Clayton, to Ruth Brown—did some of their best work in their later years, when the average person would be in retirement. They brought a lifetime of experience to the stage and the recording studio. And so does Catherine Russell.
Some might assume that, because she was the daughter of two accomplished musicians—Luis Russell (1902-1963) and Carline Ray (1925-2013)—Catherine Russell had it easy, that the road to musical success was paved for her from childhood. But she paid her dues, like everybody else—knocking about for years, singing here, singing there. Known to musicians but not to the general public.
And from time to time, I’d hear her name, from musicians I knew or from friends who chanced to encounter her in one setting or another. Guitarist/bandleader Jimmy Vivino gave her some important early exposure in New York. And Jimmy sure knows talent. (I’ve known the amazing Vivino brothers—Jimmy, Jerry, Floyd—just about forever; they were the most talented kids in the small New Jersey town that we grew up in.) One thing led to another. Through singing with Jimmy, Catherine Russell got to meet Donald Fagen, which led to touring with various rock, blues, jazz, soul and gospel bands. High-profile tours with Steely Dan and then with David Bowie gave her a name in the industry. She had a good career going as in in-demand backup singer.
Her own musical interests were eclectic. She grew up appreciating vintage jazz, blues, and pop recordings from the 1920s, ’30s, and ’40s, as well as 1950s R&B, and country/western singers who swung and told their stories well, like Hank Williams and Patsy Cline. And Gospel music. And of course, she heard artists her mom got to work with, like Doc Cheatham and Carrie Smith, and Ruth Brown and Wynton Marsalis. She could draw from all of these sources, and more, in gigs of her own.
Her manager (and later husband), Paul Kahn, suggested she record an album of her own, as a leader. Reportedly, she resisted the idea at first. But she eventually went into a friend’s studio in Illinois, and recorded some tracks. Kahn invited some record company execs to hear her sing in a New York club. They offered her a contract. Her first album, Cat (2006), consisted of the tracks she’d recorded in Illinois. She was 50 years old.
That album, and those that have followed (about every two years), have helped win her a sizable following. She tours internationally—the US, Europe, Asia, Australia. She’s a pre-eminent interpreter of vintage jazz and blues today. And people keep discovering her. When she released her album Harlem On My Mind in 2016, one friend—who knows of my love for both older jazz styles and for the music of Irving Berlin (who wrote the song “Harlem in My Mind” for Ethel Waters in 1933)—bought me that album as a present. He said Catherine Russell was a “new jazz singer” he was sure I’d love. I didn’t want to burst his bubble by telling him I’d long appreciated Catherine Russell and had already bought that album. I liked the fact that he wanted to share with me this “new jazz singer” he’d recently discovered. Catherine Russell was then 60.
She’s nearly 70 now. The next time she appears in the greater New York metropolitan area—whether she’s singing in a jazz club like Birdland or Smalls, or giving a concert at Lincoln Center or the New Jersey Performing Arts Center in Newark—I ought to invite my actress friend who thinks her life is over now because she’s just turned 30. She could learn a thing or two from Catherine Russell.
Chip Deffaa is the author of 20 published plays and eight published books, and the producer of 36 albums. For 18 years he covered entertainment, including music and theater, for The New York Post. Visit Chip online at www.chipdeffaa.com
