It looks very simple on paper: Becky Kilgore sings an Irving Berlin classic with the help of John Sheridan, piano; Dan Barrett, trombone; Frank Tate, string bass; Ricky Malichi. A casual session at the beginning of the 2011 Jazz at Chautauqua party (Sept. 15, 2011, to be precise).
But so much more is going on here. The song, SAY IT ISN’T SO, balances between sorrow — “I know what people are saying, and I am sorrowful and frightened because it might be true,” and optimism, “Oh, tell me that what they’re saying isn’t so,” admittedly with the weight coming down tangibly on the side of bad news. A lesser singer might draw this out into a weepy lament, as the lyrics suggest; an emotionally unaware vocalist might think that the lyrics could be transmuted or discarded, and “swing it,” against all reasonable practice.
Our Ms. Kilgore, Rebecca or Becky, knows how sad those lyrics are. But she chooses, by temperament and perhaps by training, to make even the most mournful song hopeful through the swing feeling beneath it. The slightly-more-hopeful-than-self-pitying tempo she chooses says to us, subliminally and silently, “Look. Things are truly rotten now. But don’t lose heart. All is possible. Everything will be OK. Follow me: keep your heart in the rhythm and we’ll be safe.”
Quietly, subtly, she makes each song an understated drama, convincing us without an act.