Want to hear more from McRae? Listen to this curated playlist:
Billie Holiday, Ella Fitzgerald, Carmen McRae
Do you know this seven-time Grammy nominee?
Editor’s Note
The Johnson Publishing Company Archive is home to 4.5 million photographs chronicling Black life from the 1940s to the present day. As we digitize the collection to share it with the world, we’re sharing stories we’ve uncovered in the archives.
Today, we’re highlighting jazz singer Carmen McRae
Body Content
Carmen McRae sang jazz standards like you’ve never heard them before.
Listen to I Only Have Eyes for You, a song you’ve probably heard on Black Mirror, Euphoria, or The Crown sung by Billie Holiday, Ella Fitzgerald, and The Flamings.
Now, listen to McRae sing it. Her playful hint of sarcasm and unique syncopation make it feel modern and new, giving the lyrics new meaning.
That signature syncopation and insightful interpretation of jazz lyrics made her one of the most famous jazz singers of her day.
A Harlem native and child of Jamaican immigrants, McRae got her start like many other jazz giants when she won an amateur talent contest at the Apollo Theater in Harlem.
During her 50-year career, she released over 70 albums and was nominated for 7 Grammy awards. She was a contemporary of Billie Holiday (who sang one of her songs), best friends with Sarah Vaughn, and a colleague of Count Basie.
Unlike her counterparts, McRae eschewed publicity and television and radio coverage. These images were taken in 1955, just before the release of Skyliner, her only self-penned commercial success. They were published in Ebony magazine, which chronicled black life and contributions across regions and generations.
These images capture McRae's legacy as a jazz icon who left a mark on everyone who heard her music. Said Ralph J. Gleason, music critic and founder of Rolling Stone of one of her performances:
She stood there on the stage… burning eyes reaching right out across the rows of seats, the spotlight shining on her cheekbones, her head thrust back a little as she sang When Sunny Gets Blue.
Maybe it was When Sunny Gets Blue again; if not, it was another of her special sad songs. I no longer remember the song, only the effect.
It was a big club, and it was all but empty. Nobody there to hear the magic. Just the band and the bartender and over in the corner the waitress, almost weeping.
'How can she know so much?' she said to me when it was over, and Carmen had opened up her heart to that most sacred audience of one.