reprinted from Jazz Lives by Michael Steinman

I am not alone in mourning the death of the irreplaceable . I wrote at length about her here a few days ago. Reading that, you might think, “Michael is sad because someone he was fond of has died,” and you would be right. But there is more to contemplate than just unalloyed grief.



Our Becky was a consummate artist, particularly skilled in the deepest art of making the difficult look easy. She worked at her craft for decades. Yes, her speaking voice was like her singing voice; her wit came out in conversation as well as in song; she did not appear to put on a whole new dramatic persona when she went on stage. But singers, instrumentalists, and close observers know that what she did was the result of hard work, work that she was very adept at concealing. That in itself is something to celebrate.

I would have you admire, if you care to, her unerring pitch. Her internal clock: she doesn’t drag or rush. Her swing. Her casual yet delightful phrasing: she honored the words as more than syllables tied to rhythmic pitches. She was talking to us in song. She had stories to tell. Her subtly impeccable microphone technique, something you might not notice unless you have singers having intimate or hostile relations with the microphone. Her playfulness. Her glee. Her absolute control in sharing melody with us and respectfully improvising on it. Her wit. Her deep emotional intelligence: her awareness that the sly comedy of EVERYTHING HAPPENS TO ME was not the same thing as what was in COMES LOVE. Her outstretched forefinger, a visual emphasis, an unspoken, “Hey, listen to THIS!” and her jubilant pedaling fists when she is enthralled by the music.

Her joy in song.

Here is a brief but rich set of examples: a very compact interlude, four songs only, with just a pianist. But oh! what a pianist: the ferociously subtle Dave McKenna. I have chosen to write nothing about his wizardry, but he loved Rebecca and will, I hope forgive me.

The songs are THOU SWELL; EVERYTHING HAPPENS TO ME; COMES LOVE; BYE BYE BLACKBIRD. None of them could be called new, but she makes them so.

This performance took place at Joe Boughton’s magical carnival of sounds and friends, Jazz at Chautauqua. He and I share the same feelings: he didn’t want the magic to move out of reach, to become a memory, so he had as much as he could captured on audiotape and videotape. You will see him introduce our Becky. That we can watch and hear her now is due to Joe’s devotion and the kindness of Bill Boughton and Sarah Boughton Holt.

The video that captures them is not the razor-sharp image we expect from our iPhones. But the sound is fine, and, frankly, the slightly blurry image is an incentive to stop staring and start listening.



Through the technology of the time, we have here a kind of sweet immortality. We can stop time and keep her vibrantly alive. But it is bittersweet. Rebecca is so close. We can hear her, we can even, if we are so moved, reach out and touch the screen. But she is also gone, gone far away.

We will miss her forever.

Jazzology Releases featuring Rebecca Kilgore

Rebecca Kilgore
A Remembrance Of Maxine Sullivan

California Swing Cats Featuring Rebecca Kilgore
Stealin' Apples

Rebecca Kilgore
Sings The Music Of Fats Waller

Rebecca Kilgore With Hal Smith's California Swing Cats

Rebecca Kilgore With Hal Smith's Rhythmakers

Rebecca Kilgore
Sings The Music Of Jerome Kern

Lino Patruno & The American All Stars Featuring Rebecca Kilgore

Hal Smith's Rhythmakers W Rebecca Kilgore
Let's Have A Jubilee

Rebecca Kilgore
Make Someone Happy

Hal Smith's Rythmakers Portland To San Diego

Hal Smith's California Swing Cats "swing, Brother Swing"

Hal Smith's Rythmakers Featuring Rebecca Kilgore
Concentratin' On Fats (a program of rare waller)

Jammin' For Condon,lino Patruno & His All Stars Recorded Live @ The Ascona Jazz Festival,switzerland