To Becky, With Love

This month the world—I can’t limit this to only the jazz community—lost an incredible person. One of the gentlest people I ever met also possessed a singing voice that has been described as “pure silk” and “honey-drenched.” Her name was Rebecca Kilgore. She will live forever with the vast amount of recordings on which she was featured, and in the memories of the legion of friends and fans she touched. I was the latter before I became the former, and I was honored to have been in her orbit both professionally and personally.

I first learned about Becky on drummer/band leader Hal Smith’s recordings with his Roadrunners. She was playing rhythm guitar throughout these albums, occasionally stepping forward to offer a vocal. Before Hal invited her to be part of this ensemble (that featured a “who’s who” of jazzers including clarinetist Bobby Gordon and pianist Ray Skjelbred) she was already well known and quite busy throughout Portland, OR, and the surrounding Northwest. It was one Tom Rippey who put The Roadrunners on his Triangle Jazz Label based out of Seattle, WA and, with his brother Dick, Kansas City, KS. The proverbial cat was out of the bag. No one band was going to be enough for the talent that poured out of Rebecca Kilgore.

As her fame spread, she was invited to virtually every jazz party in the US, and then in Europe. At the zenith of her career, there were few major concert hall stages on which she had not performed. Along the way, she gathered musical favorites around her, and to them she was Becky. While I didn’t have much of an opportunity to play behind her except for the odd jazz party or cruise we were both performing, two of my good friends became like family to her. Trombonist/cornetist Dan Barrett would grow so close to Becky he nicknamed her “Sis” since he’d grown up with only brothers. Guitarist/banjoist/vocalist Eddie Erickson and she were like soulmates: two talented, wonderfully gentle people with great senses of humor and vocals that seamlessly blended when they performed a duet like they had been singing together since birth.

In 2002, the three of them formed the celebrated trio BED (Becky, Eddie, Dan), later adding the magnificent bass player, the late Joel Forbes, though with no reasonable way to include him in the acronymic name of their band. In a true example of the product being greater than the parts, they brought out the best in each other. The freedom to try anything; to swerve mid-set in another direction; to make music as peers and close friends: all of these qualities and more made a show with BED seem a celebratory family gathering.

There are those vocalists who put on so much of a show with facial expressions and body language on top of their warbling that one thinks one’s watching a workout, their vocal acrobatics so strenuous one keeps looking in vain for the net below. Becky always made her singing seem effortless, smiling through her lyrics with phrases that felt like a warm hug. While always staying true to the melody and the message of a tune, she would—tastefully—embellish, especially on a repeat vocal chorus, her improvised lines not as showy as Sassy’s or as intricate as Ella’s, but soft, sweet, supple, and always spot-on. People compared her to Anita O’Day, Jo Stafford, and Doris Day; while she’d obviously listened carefully to all of them, she always sang in her own voice, referencing while never imitating.

In all my encounters with Becky either on or off-stage, I never heard her say a judgmental or cross word about anyone. Even on those rare occasions things weren’t quite clicking during a performance, she’d smile through it and gently nudge the show back in line with gracious humor. One particular memory I have was during one of the cruises on which she and I were both performing. If I wasn’t onstage for a set in which she was also involved, I was right in front soaking in her singing. She turned to the pianist on the set, a person possessing preposterously prodigious technique, and requested an intro to the next swinging tune. The piano man embarked on a journey that included more notes in the eight bars he played than Becky would sing during the entire 10-day cruise! When he concluded, she stared at him for a couple of seconds, said “Wow!” with a bright smile (and not a trace of irony), turned to the audience, and launched into the tune.

I have two stories in which I was directly involved that bear sharing in reverse chronological order. I had the honor of recording an album with her in 2003. Beginning in 2002, one of my heroes, the late John Sheridan, a magnificently gifted arranger and pianist, and I had started what would become a series of piano duet albums for Producer/Entrepreneur J. Barker Hickox. Our first two efforts had proved successful enough to performer and producer (and I’m proud to say purchaser) that Bark wanted to do a third recording. Following our “Echoes of Ralph…” and “Around the World” releases, he thought it fitting we take on the Great American Songbook in a recording to be titled “For Lovers Only.” He wisely thought some element was missing: two bald, gruff stride pianists could use a little tenderizing, as it were. He invited Becky to sing some tunes on the project. She said “Yes” and it was simply fabulous.

Because this project was to be recorded live, we all met a day prior to the festival where the recording would happen to work out routines, double-check chords, and the like. I simply did as I was told: I played when pointed at, stayed out of the way when appropriate, and earned a full four-year degree in musicianship in as many hours of rehearsal by observing two master musicians interacting, suggesting, conferring, and creating. Of course, Becky and John knew each other well from performing together for, among other concerts and events, cornetist Jim Cullum’s Riverwalk Jazz radio series: John was Cullum’s pianist and arranger and Becky appeared several times on the show. The final product contained 15 tracks, eight of them graced by Becky’s vocals. She beautifully navigated upbeat romps like “The Lady’s In Love With You” and “I’m Crazy ‘Bout My Baby,” but tore my heart with her versions of ballads such as “(Be Careful) It’s My Heart” and “I Know Why And So Do You.” What an honor to have been able to share music and time with this remarkably talented and kindhearted woman.

Going back a couple of years prior, I was in a surreal experience that involved Becky and Eddie Erickson. We were all booked to perform on a Jazzdagen cruise to celebrate the new millennium. We would welcome the year 2000 in Brazil, but first travel down the exotic Amazon River. All of this would occur on the Stella Solaris, a real honest-to-goodness tub that should’ve been dry-docked in the previous century [N.B. this was exceedingly unusual for Jazzdagen Tours, a company traditionally associated with lines such as Crystal, Regent, and Holland America]. To escape the dilapidated surroundings, Eddie, Becky and I would retreat to one of our cabins (“stateroom” being too lofty a term for where we were billeted) and sing favorite tunes in three-part harmony. I have to say we sounded pretty good. So good in fact that when we learned our wobbly watercraft was going to wheeze down a tributary of the Amazon called the Curua Ana River and an excursion barge was going to make stops at picturesque Pacoval village, Eddie grabbed his banjo and he, Becky, and I went out to serenade the natives.

When we landed on the dock near the shore of the village, the children came running down to the beach to greet all of the passengers, all of whom expecting Eddie, Becky, and me went off into the village to explore. We three stayed on the beach and started to sing our tunes to these sprats. We were halfway through our medley when it seemed every villager had stopped what they’d been doing to come down the shore to check us out. Our medley concluded with “Bye Bye, Blackbird,” a great ditty for extemporaneous harmonizing. We finished with a fancy flourish—stopping short of going down on one knee and shouting “Ta-Dah”—and waited for the thunderous accolade. Nothing. Not a twitch. Even the crickets were silent. One-hundred-and-fifty Pacovalians expressionlessly stared at us: not happy, not worried, not angry…not really anything.

Eddie said out the side of his mouth, “I don’t see any tar and feathers…”

Becky rejoined, “There’s a lake nearby called Vitoria-Regia where these villagers fish for piranha. I wonder what they use for bait.”

I said, “Let’s try again!”

Instead, we ran back to the dinghy and returned to the ship, laughing about having played for the toughest audience in the history of performance!

Rebecca Kilgore’s passing is a huge loss for all of us. There are other past and present vocalists I enjoy listening to, but I doubt there will ever again be anyone who can take a song and make it so immediate and moving. Thankfully, her music lives on in videos, recordings, and the hearts of those blessed enough to have heard her perform live. Eddie reminded me she loved to say, “Just swing and have fun!” I can’t think of any better advice for anyone anywhere. Thank you, Becky, I will!

Jeff Barnhart

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Jeff Barnhart is an internationally renowned pianist, vocalist, arranger, bandleader, recording artist, ASCAP composer, educator and entertainer. Visit him online atwww.jeffbarnhart.com. Email: Mysticrag@aol.com