The words film noir instantly evoke a world of
monochromatic impressions. Seedy bars, perpetually draped with dusty Christmas
tinsel and reeking of stale cigarettes and rotgut rye. Hard-luck guys running
out of places to run. Disillusioned dames in strapless gowns warbling love
songs whose lyrics they no longer believe. Rain-slick sidewalks reflecting
midnight neon and an apathetic moon.
Down these mean streets Audrey Morris sings.
In this one-of-a-kind album, Chicago's premier singer-pianist interprets the
songs of Hollywood's most evocative (and Nihilistic) genre. Film noir
is a term coined by French film critics to categorize the bleak, shadowy
thrillers produced from the early '40s through the mid '50's. reacting to the
bogus optimism of Hollywood's war-time self-sacrificing heroics and
morale-boosting musicals, a number of gifted directors--including European
expatriates Fritz Lang, Billy Wilder, Robert Siodmak, Otto Preminger, Jacques
Torneur, and Americans Robert Aldrich, Sam Fuller, Joseph Losey, Nicholas Ray,
Joseph H. Lewis and Don Siegel--conjured up a universe of corruption and
criminality. In the sodden streets and shadowy fleabag hotel rooms of their
movies, the grubbiest aspects of human nature--greed, duplicity, perfidiousness,
betrayal, sadism--bloomed like noxious nightflowers.
The bruised, deceitful leading ladies of
film noir were usually empowered to alleviate the gloom, albeit
briefly, with a song or two. Had Audrey not been so determined to make her mark
as a musician, she might well have turned up in one of those sequined gowns
herself, singing a bittersweet ballad to Humphrey Bogart or Robert Mitchum. In
the late '50s, Warner Brothers offered her an exclusive contract requiring that
she roll over control of her career to the studio. Blessed with brains as well
as beauty and talent, Audrey choose to remain a free agent, refining her art in
jazz clubs and cabarets. Her recordings have been too few. Two albums in the
'50s, for Label "X" and Bethlehem, which recently have been reissued, and an
album on her own Fancy Faire in the mid-1980's. But she has been a treasured
fixture at the finest Chicago nightspots--Mr. Kelly's, The London House, The
embers, and currently Toulouse--where she has introduced several generations of
audiences to the glories of American popular music.
Audrey Morris is a songwriter's best friend. Like the
greatest cabaret singers--Mabel Mercer, Julie Wilson--She anatomizes every lyric
to discover the subtlest nuances of meaning and phrasing. And like the jazz
instrumentalists who cherish her work--Oscar Peterson and George Shearing to
name only a two--her musicianship is impeccable. Each melody is framed in a
spare, harmonically sophisticated setting. Audrey's aristocratic approach
doesn't attempt to knock your socks off with mannered vocal gyrations or
ostentatious, speed-of-light pianowork--although I suspect she could easily do
so if she wished. Instead, she places her considerable gifts at the service of
the composers and lyricists who created the songs she painstakingly selects.
An obsessive movie buff, and owner of one of the most comprehensive collections
of sheet music, Audrey spent hundreds of hours compiling her repertoire for this
album. Her videotape machine ran incessantly for over a year, capturing a
filmography of film noir. Once informed of the project, her network of
friends and devotees suggested tunes from their favorite pictures,
stuffing her mailbox with lead sheets and audio and video cassettes. Initially
Audrey decided to record these songs backed by bass and drums, but after the
first recording sessions, she altered that plan. The intimate, highly personal
nature of this program seemed best suited to solo performances. Every few
months for the better part of a year, she went into the studio to preserve a
handful of songs, making sure the mood and feeling satisfied her before
approving each track.
The harvest of all this research and hard work is a splendid collection of
songs, some of which were standards before they entered the somber
world of film noir, and others that have not been performed for several
decades--a fascinating mixture of classics and rediscoveries. Most of the
selections are languid, moody ballads--little about film noir is sunny
or sprightly--intended to be heard after midnight, when streetlights cast
shadows of slatted blinds on the walls of your room.
With the release of this remarkable album, the term film noir takes on
a new significance. Those who are shrewd (and lucky enough to possess this
recording) will hereafter associate those words with one of the most imaginative
collections of songs ever assembled--a work of art that is also an invaluable
piece of cultural history.
Joel Siegel is a film critic for the Washington, D.C.
City Paper
