This was most evident in his stymied attempts to become a film star. Ginell also reminds readers that he lacked the full-blown crossover appeal of his white counterparts like Sinatra. While he was commercially successful as a recording artist and live performer, many critics lamented his supposed shift from jazz to pop, a major contention for Eckstine who resented critics for fetishizing the romance of being a “cult” jazz artist. He broke through this barrier at MGM with luscious renditions of quality standards recorded with top tier arrangers and musicians, a pattern he continued on his LPs for Mercury and Roulette Records. Though he was not opposed to the blues he suspected the music industry of stereotyping black singers by limiting them to the genre. Though he made his initial commercial impact among black audiences in the early 1940s singing blues tunes like “Jelly, Jelly” and “Stormy Monday Blues,” he found the blues limited musically and really longed to sing romantic pop from the 1930s like Bing Crosby. From 1944-47 he formed and led the first bebop orchestra but several members went solo and big bands were becoming too expensive to maintain. Eckstine and Vaughan were present during the gestation of bebop, performing alongside instrumental pioneers like Gillespie and Charlie Parker.

In addition to singing he recruited other musicians, including Vaughan and Dizzy Gillespie. Racism loomed particularly large in his efforts to make an impact as a musician and actor.Īfter singing with regional big bands Eckstine began his first step toward the national jazz scene singing with the Earl Hines Band.

Each artistic triumph was met with resistance. While Eckstine’s artistry is highly regarded among jazz musicians, his efforts to connect commercially were always contentious. B: The Music & Life of Billy Eckstine, writer and historian Cary Ginell depicts Eckstine as an unheralded pioneer of pre-rock pop for directing the first bebop orchestra, emerging as the first commercially viable black crooner (via his MGM recordings), and emerging as perhaps the first cross-racial sex symbol in mainstream pop. Though Eckstine’s robust baritone often reminds listeners of Nat “King” Cole and Johnny Hartman his cavernous vibrato is distinctly his and actually preceded the careers of these, and other black crooners. My entree into Billy Eckstine’s career was Sarah Vaughan, his compatriot in pioneering modern jazz singing and setting the highest bar for vocal lusciousness.

Mr. B by Cary Ginell