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Remembering jazz singer Rebecca Kilgore

DAVE DAVIES, HOST:

This is FRESH AIR. I'm Dave Davies. Next, we're going to remember singer Rebecca Kilgore, a devoted interpreter of American popular song who died last week at the age of 76. You may have heard her in concert on the show, often with pianist Dave Frishberg. Terry's joined us to share some thoughts of her own about what makes Rebecca Kilgore special. Terry?

TERRY GROSS, BYLINE: Thanks, Dave. I think Becky did more concerts on our show than any other performer. Her repertoire was American popular song, dating as far back as the 1930s. She performed with songwriter, pianist and singer Dave Frishberg in the '90s at the Heathman Hotel in Portland, Oregon. They both lived there. And that enabled her to quit her job as a secretary at Reed College and have a real music career, recording many albums and performing around the world. It was great to record her for our show because she was always right on pitch, which meant we didn't need to do a lot of takes. It was her sense of rhythm that I loved most. She had such a natural sense of swing. I loved her for singing relatively obscure songs and reviving songs I'd never heard of.

She struck me as kind of shy, but that may have contributed to another trait I loved. She called attention to the song and not herself. She didn't try to impress you with, like, high notes or dizzying scat singing. She knew how to bring a song to life and fill them with her delight in singing them. Becky died of Lewy body disease, and that has symptoms similar to Alzheimer's. And Dave Frishberg died of Alzheimer's in 2021. I always describe Becky as one of my favorite living singers, and I feel so lucky to have gotten the chance to work with her and to showcase her singing on our show. Rest in peace, Becky.

DAVIES: Thanks, Terry. In 1995, Rebecca Kilgore first appeared on our show with Dave Frishberg at the piano. They opened their concert with a song from 1933 by Harold Arlen and Ted Koehler.

(SOUNDBITE OF ARCHIVED NPR CONTENT)

DAVE FRISHBERG: (Playing piano).

REBECCA KILGORE: (Singing) I got my trousers pressed, shoes shined. I had my coat and vest relined. Take a look at my lapel. See the flower. Can't you tell? I'm happy as the day is long. Haven't got a dime to lend. I got a lot of time to spend. Just a pocketful of air feeling like a millionaire. I'm happy as the day is long. Got a heavy affair, and I'm having my fun. Am I walking on air? Gee, but I'm the lucky one. Got my peace of mind, knock wood. I hear that love is blind. That's good 'cause the things I never see never seem to worry me. I'm happy as the day is long.

FRISHBERG: (Playing piano).

KILGORE: I'm happy, happy, happy as the day is long. I'm happy, so happy, happy as the day is long. Got a heavy affair, and I'm having my fun. Am I walking on air? Gee, but I'm the lucky one. I've got my peace of mind, knock wood. I hear that love is blind. That's good 'cause the things I never see never seem to worry me. I'm happy as the day is long. I'm happy as the day is long.

GROSS: Wonderful. And that's Rebecca Kilgore singing with Dave Frishberg at the piano. Becky, welcome to FRESH AIR. This has been an ambition of mine for a long time to have you sing on the show.

KILGORE: Oh, thank you (ph).

GROSS: And I'm delighted that we're actually doing it. It's remarkable to me that you can sing as wonderfully as you do. And yet, having - you started so late professionally to actually sing in front of people.

KILGORE: That's right. But I was a closet singer before that. So I had lots of practice in my own living room.

GROSS: You gave up your day job - what? - just a couple of years ago?

KILGORE: That's correct - actually, 2 1/2. Yep.

GROSS: What was the turning point to give it up?

KILGORE: I was working full time, and it was getting to be too much with all the gigs I had at night. And it was clear that I had to make a decision, and I had the support of my boss and my colleagues, and they said, yes, do it. So I quit my secretarial job.

GROSS: Equally remarkable to me is that you didn't even sing in front of people until - what? - you were 30, 31?

KILGORE: That's right.

GROSS: Do you have a good musical memory? When you're trying to learn a song, do you get it first time or...

KILGORE: No, I wish I did, and that's - boy, I wish I could just learn a song immediately. But I have to painstakingly play the melody on my guitar and sing along with it and read the notes and then read the lyrics and listen to it. So I absorb it both with sight, sound and playing it physically on the guitar. It's a tedious procedure, so...

GROSS: Say you're learning a melody that has, like, a difficult interval. What's your idea of a difficult melody to learn?

KILGORE: Oh, well, "Last Life" (ph) comes to mind, but - although I've never sung it, and I don't even have any aspirations of singing it. But...

FRISHBERG: "Ballerina."

KILGORE: "Ballerina" - oh, boy, that took me a long time to learn.

FRISHBERG: (Playing piano).

KILGORE: (Singing) Dance, ballerina, dance and do your pirouette in rhythm with your aching heart. Dance, ballerina, dance. You mustn't once forget a dancer has to dance the part.

See what I mean?

GROSS: What...

FRISHBERG: What do you think (ph)?

GROSS: No, what makes that tricky? - 'cause there's a lot of intervals...

KILGORE: Accidentals.

GROSS: ...And quick notes? What's an accidental?

KILGORE: It's not in the scale. It's...

FRISHBERG: It's not in the scale, yeah, but I think this part - (playing piano). Those - all those non-chord tones land on those big, heavy accented beats, and you better hit them otherwise you're...

KILGORE: Yeah, you got to get them right.

FRISHBERG: Otherwise, you just sound awful.

(LAUGHTER)

GROSS: I'm interested in how you started performing together, which you do every week now in Portland.

FRISHBERG: I came to Portland as a - like, to do my act, you know, at a place called Father's. And Becky was playing with this band, Wholly Cats. This is about '81, I think, when I first met you, wasn't it? - '82, something like that.

KILGORE: '82.

FRISHBERG: You know, so we've known each other quite a long time. I was knocked out with her then. She was the guitar player with the band, you know, but she was singing. She sounded great.

GROSS: And so you asked her to sing with you? I mean, how did you start performing?

FRISHBERG: Well, later on, when I moved to Portland, I was offered this job at the Heathman. And they said they wanted a singer, and I thought of Becky.

GROSS: And Becky, did it change your singing at all to have Dave play? I mean, I think he's just fantastic...

KILGORE: Yes, yes.

GROSS: ...Pianist, and I wonder if you think that that...

KILGORE: Oh.

GROSS: ...Affected you?

KILGORE: It's been the gig of my life. It's been the greatest gig, and I have the most sympathetic accompanist I could imagine with Dave. I just - it's just wonderful to have him as an accompanist. And the other reason is that I get to bring in new songs every week and just put them in front of him, and he plays them. So I get to increase my repertoire by leaps and bounds.

FRISHBERG: Becky's a good arranger and a good guitar player, and she knows how to write a good lead sheet. And it's increased my repertoire. It's enriched my repertoire quite a bit, too.

GROSS: On your album "I Saw Stars," you do a lot of songs that I love, and I love the way you do the songs. So I'm going to request a song from that CD. And this is "No Love, No Nothing."

FRISHBERG: (Playing piano).

KILGORE: (Singing) No love, no nothing until my baby comes home. No sir, no nothing as long as baby must roam. I promised him I'd wait for him till even Hades froze. I'm lonesome, heaven knows. But what I said still goes. No love, no nothing. And that's a promise I'll keep. No fun with no one. I'm getting plenty of sleep. My heart's on strike, and though it's like an empty honeycomb - no love, no sir, no nothing till my baby comes home.

FRISHBERG: (Playing piano).

KILGORE: (Singing) But what I said still goes. No love, no nothing. And that's a promise I'll keep. No fun with no one. I'm getting plenty of sleep. My heart's on strike, and though it's like an empty honeycomb - no love, no sir, no nothing till my baby comes home. No love, no sir, no nothing till my baby comes home.

DAVIES: That's Rebecca Kilgore and Dave Frishberg recorded in 1995. Coming up, we hear songs from their 1999 concert of music by lyricist Dorothy Fields, which was part of our American Popular Songbook series. This is FRESH AIR.

(SOUNDBITE OF MUSIC)

DAVIES: This is FRESH AIR. We're remembering singer Rebecca Kilgore, who died last week at the age of 76. She wasn't well-known among the general public but was a real favorite here at FRESH AIR. She recorded a number of albums by herself and in duet with pianist Dave Frishberg. In 1999, they recorded a concert of songs by Dorothy Fields.

(SOUNDBITE OF ARCHIVED NPR CONTENT)

GROSS: Well, Dave, Becky, why don't you do one of Dorothy Fields', actually, her first hit. It was her first hit, "I Can't Give You Anything But Love," which like "The Sunny Side Of The Street" has music by Jimmy McHugh. This song caught on after it was featured in the review of Lew Leslie's "Blackbirds Of 1928." Maybe you can do the verse for us also.

KILGORE: OK.

FRISHBERG: (Playing piano).

KILGORE: (Singing) Gee, but it's tough to be broke, kid. It's not a joke, kid, it's a curse. My luck is changing - it's gotten from simply rotten to something worse. Who knows, someday I will win, too. I'll begin to reach my prime. Now, though, I see what our end is. All I can spend is just my time. I can't give you anything but love, baby. That's the only thing I've plenty of, baby. Dream awhile. Scheme awhile. We're sure to find happiness, and I guess, all those things that you've always pined for. Gee, I'd love to see you looking swell, baby. Diamond bracelets Woolworth doesn't sell, baby. Till that lucky day, you know darn well, baby, I can't give you anything but love.

FRISHBERG: (Playing piano).

KILGORE: Gee, I'd love to see you looking swell, baby. Diamond bracelets Woolworth doesn't sell, baby. Till that lucky day, you know darn well, baby, I can't give you anything but love. I can't give you anything but love.

GROSS: Yeah, that song was written, I think, about a year before the Depression and obviously had particular resonance (laughter) when the Depression hit shortly after. Becky, do you find Dorothy Fields' lyrics particularly singable because they're so colloquial? Take a line like, gee, I'd like to see you looking swell.

KILGORE: See, I can get into a lyric like that.

GROSS: Yeah.

KILGORE: I love that. I'm not embarrassed to say that. Some corny lyrics, I am. But it just sounds, like you say, colloquial. And it's fun to say.

GROSS: You know, Dorothy Fields' trademark as a lyricist is her cleverness. But she could also write really tender lyrics. And I think this song really proves that. This is "The Way You Look Tonight," a ballad that she wrote with Jerome Kern. It won an Academy Award. It was written for the Fred Astaire-Ginger Rogers film "Swing Time." And, you know, Dorothy Fields said that the first time Jerome Kern played her the melody, right before she wrote the lyric for it, she thought it was so beautiful that she started to cry, and she had to leave the room. Would you do the song for us?

FRISHBERG: Sure. (Playing piano).

KILGORE: (Singing) Someday when I'm awfully low, when the world is cold, I will feel a glow just thinking of you and the way you look tonight. Oh, but you're lovely. With your smile so warm and your cheeks so soft, there is nothing for me but to love you, just the way you look tonight. With each word, your tenderness grows, tearing my fear apart. And that laugh that wrinkles your nose touches my foolish heart. Lovely. Never, never change. Keep that breathless charm. Won't you please arrange it 'cause I love you, just the way you look tonight, just the way you look tonight.

GROSS: That was beautiful. I want to thank you both for performing songs by Dorothy Fields for us. It's really been a pleasure.

KILGORE: Thanks. It's been a pleasure for us.

FRISHBERG: Thanks, Terry.

DAVIES: Dave Frishberg and Rebecca Kilgore recorded in 1999 as part of our American Popular Song Series. We'll hear more of their performances after a break. This is FRESH AIR.

This is FRESH AIR, and we're remembering singer Rebecca Kilgore today. She died last week at the age of 76. Later in 1999, she and Dave Frishberg returned to FRESH AIR for a concert of Hoagy Carmichael songs, which was part of our American Popular Song series.

(SOUNDBITE OF ARCHIVED NPR CONTENT)

GROSS: Well, early in Hoagy Carmichael's Hollywood career, when he was a staff songwriter at Paramount Pictures, the studio teamed him up with Frank Loesser. And Loesser is a composer and lyricist who's probably best known for writing the songs for "Guys And Dolls." But at the time, he was just getting started as lyricist. And so, with Hoagy Carmichael, he wrote "Small Fry," "Heart And Soul" and "Two Sleepy People." I'm going to ask you to do "Two Sleepy People." It was sung by Bob Hope and Shirley Ross in the 1938 movie "Thanks For The Memory." It's a wonderful song. Would you do it for us?

FRISHBERG: Yeah.

KILGORE: Sure.

FRISHBERG: (Playing piano, singing) Here we are out of cigarettes, holding hands and yawning. Look how late it gets. Two sleepy people by dawn's early light and too much in love to say goodnight.

KILGORE: (Singing) Here we are in the cozy chair begging on a wishbone from the Frigidaire. Two sleepy people with nothing to say and too much in love to break away.

FRISHBERG: (Playing piano, singing) Do you remember the nights we used to linger in the hall?

KILGORE: (Singing) Father didn't like you at all.

FRISHBERG: (Playing piano, singing) Do you remember the reason why we married in the fall?

KILGORE: (Singing) To rent this little nest and get a bit of rest. Well...

DAVE FRISHBERG AND REBECCA KILGORE: (Singing) Here we are, just about the same.

FRISHBERG: (Playing piano, singing) Foggy little fella.

KILGORE: (Singing) Drowsy little dame.

FRISHBERG AND KILGORE: (Playing piano, singing) Two sleepy people by dawn's early light. And too much in love to say goodnight.

KILGORE: (Singing) Well, here we are. Don't we look amiss? Lipstick on your collar, wrinkles in my dress. Two sleepy people who know very well they're too much in love to break the spell.

FRISHBERG: (Playing piano, singing) Here we are crazy in the head. Gee, your eyes are gorgeous, even when they're red. Two sleepy people by dawn's early light and too much in love to say goodnight. Do you remember when we went dancing at the Palomar?

KILGORE: (Singing) When it was over, why naturally, we cuddled in the car.

FRISHBERG: That's when I ran out of gas.

KILGORE: (Singing) And I was green as grass.

FRISHBERG AND KILGORE: (Playing piano, singing) Well, here we are keeping up the pace, letting each tomorrow slap us in the face. Two sleepy people by dawn's early light and too much in love to say goodnight.

GROSS: I think that's one of the most successfully conversational songs I know, both in the lyric and in the music.

KILGORE: Well, it makes it really easy to sing as a duet that way.

FRISHBERG: Yeah. Oh, yeah. It's real. It's two real people.

GROSS: Well, the next Hoagy Carmichael song I'd like you to do for us is called "The Nearness Of You." And although it's one of his most recorded songs, I don't think it's nearly as well known as his other famous songs like "Skylark" and "Stardust" and "Rockin' Chair" and "Georgia." The lyric is by Ned Washington, who is given Hoagy's melody by the Paramount Studio, and the song was used for the 1938 movie "Romance In The Dark." Would you do "The Nearness Of You"?

KILGORE: Of course.

FRISHBERG: Sure.

(Playing piano).

KILGORE: (Singing) It's not the pale moon that excites me, that thrills and delights me. Oh, no. It's just the nearness of you. It isn't your sweet conversation that brings this sensation. Oh, no. It's just the nearness of you. When you're in my arms and I feel you so close to me, oh, my wildest dreams come true. I need no soft lights to enchant me if you'll only grant me the right to hold you ever so tight and to feel in the night the nearness of you.

GROSS: That was lovely.

DAVIES: Singer Rebecca Kilgore with pianist Dave Frishberg recorded in 1999. Rebecca died last week at the age of 76. We send our condolences to her family, her friends and her fans.

(SOUNDBITE OF SONG, "DREAM)

KILGORE: (Singing) Dream when you're feeling blue. Dream, that's the thing to do. Just watch the smoke rings rise in the air. You'll find your share of happiness there. So dream when the day is through. Dream, and they might come true. Things never are as bad as they seem. So dream, dream, dream.

DAVIES: On Monday's show, we hear from Heather McGhee. Her book The Sum Of Us" asks why so many Americans believe that progress for one group means loss for another. On Martin Luther King Jr. Day, a conversation about the cost of that belief and who she says is really paying. I hope you can join us.

Fresh Air's executive producers are Danny Miller and Sam Briger. Our senior producer today is Roberta Shorrock. Our technical director and engineer is Audrey Bentham, with additional engineering support from Joyce Lieberman, Julian Herzfeld and Diana Martinez. Our interviews and reviews are produced and edited by Phyllis Myers, Ann Marie Baldonado, Lauren Krenzel, Therese Madden, Monique Nazareth, Thea Chaloner, Susan Nyakundi, Anna Bauman and Nico Gonzalez-Wisler. Our digital media producer is Molly Seavy-Nesper. For Terry Gross and Tonya Mosley, I'm Dave Davies.

(SOUNDBITE OF SONG, "DREAM)

KILGORE: (Singing) Dream when you feeling blue. Dream, that's the thing to do. Just watch the smoke rings rise in the air. You'll find your share of happiness there. Transcript provided by NPR, Copyright NPR.

NPR transcripts are created on a rush deadline by an NPR contractor. This text may not be in its final form and may be updated or revised in the future. Accuracy and availability may vary. The authoritative record of NPR’s programming is the audio record.

Combine an intelligent interviewer with a roster of guests that, according to the Chicago Tribune, would be prized by any talk-show host, and you're bound to get an interesting conversation. Fresh Air interviews, though, are in a category by themselves, distinguished by the unique approach of host and executive producer Terry Gross. "A remarkable blend of empathy and warmth, genuine curiosity and sharp intelligence," says the San Francisco Chronicle.