Once upon a time there were people who wrote songs, and other people sang them. The singers were called interpreters. Think Frank Sinatra, for instance.
That was pretty much how it was in popular music until the sixties, when the genre of singer/songwriter came along. Now I know this will be a hopeless generality, but we tended to forgive the singer/songwriters their often unlovely voices as the tradeoff we made to get to hear their music. Think Bob Dylan, for instance.
Eva Cassidy was a singer. There were only two reasons to listen to her. One was her beautiful voice … and the other to find out what she heard in a song that you might have missed.
The selections over there on the right have been long-time favorites of mine. For the longest time I wasn’t happy with anything but the originals. But Cassidy changed my mind about that. When Sandy Denny recorded the wonderful song “Who Knows Where The Time Goes,” I didn’t think I would ever hear as fine a rendition as hers. But what do you know, now I have. Eva Cassidy’s interpretation melts the heart in the same way.
Gone too soon, at age thirty-three.