The Spanish translation of “Esperanza” is “hope”. In an essay that I wrote while studying at University, I somewhat cheaply employed this fact in an attempt to appear profound in my analysis of Esperanza Spalding’s work as a bassist, singer, composer and multimedia artist. While my attempts are a source of embarrassment for me now, as I glaze over my old papers, I am in no doubt that the intention of my observation is as true now as it has ever been. That is that while many fear the use of the word “jazz”, and those who favour it fear for its longevity, Spalding has (though perhaps unintentionally) offered hope for the term in the 21st century. Since her first album Junjo, released in 2006 under the Spanish label Ayva Music, Spalding has recorded over ten albums under her own name. Following the release of her third album Chamber Music Society, the already acclaimed artist was presented with an unprecedented award for a female musician whose music was widely categorised as “jazz”. The 2011 Grammy for “Best New Artist”. This accolade subverted the predominantly sexist perception of a male-dominated genre and further demanded creative respect for vocalists working under the banner of “jazz”. There’s a journal entry in Americana: The Journal of American Popular Culture that convincingly conveys this point but rather than plagiarise it, I’ll leave it for you to find.
2021 saw a continuation of her cultural subversion, with the release of a collaborative series of works titled Songwrights Apothecary Lab. If you are like me, Spotify has become the go-to source for musical consumption. However, this work (S.A.L for short) did a great deal to change my perspective on how digitised music can be presented and interacted with. Yes, it is available on major streaming platforms. No, I don’t think this is the best way to engage with it. S.A.L has its own website, designed and dedicated in service of the notion that there are lessons in music as well as emotional remedies. While I can’t profess to have used the website as a tool for emotional healing (and therefore can’t comment on its efficacy), I do strongly recommend checking it out if you want an immersive multimedia experience. The layout of the website encourages users to interact with stories behind recording each track (called a Formwela). Its scattered layout prescribes non-linear engagement, meaning that you can easily go from listen to track 10 to track 3 without it impacting the narrative. Binding all the tracks is a strong sense of collaboration, resulting in vastly different timbral constructions for each track as well as, at times, chaotic arrangements. The all-encompassing creativity of this work is impossible not to see, even if the resulting music isn’t “up your street” (some of it’s not up mine).
Spalding isn’t the first to create a website for an album; this method of presenting work reminds me of the early 2000s and 2010s and the creative excitement (as well as concern) around how the internet might be used for alternative listening experiences. Björk’s 2011 album Biophilia springs to mind, though that used an app rather than a website.
Out of all of her music, S.A.L isn’t my favourite (her self-titled album definitely steals the show for me) and the “apothecary shop” has left me a little confused. However, my respect and admiration for Spalding, as well as the creative ingenuity of this album and its relevant use of media, has made it my pick for our fourth album of the week.
Waxing Lyrical 