Cassandra Wilson

Cassandra Wilson began her career as a sullen jazz diva, a purveyor of dramatic, if relatively tradition-minded, takes on standards. Frustrated with the insularity of the jazz world, she abandoned that pedestal to investigate more earthy music, and in the '90s carved out her own genre -- dusty, blues-influenced songs of longing and woe backed by acoustic guitars and hand drums.

The "before" period -- her straight-ahead jazz and occasional avant experimentation (she was a member of the Brooklyn-based '80s collective M-Base) -- is best documented on Blue Skies. Taking tempos almost painfully slow, Wilson offers spare, hauntingly fragile treatments of timeworn ballads such as "My One and Only Love," and finds genuinely new drama within the warhorses. Other records were less consistent -- though She Who Weeps, from 1991, has moments of brilliance.

Wilson signed to Blue Note in 1993 and immediately set out to dismantle the jazz-diva reputation: Her Craig Street–produced label debut includes an eerie rendition of Robert Johnson's "Hellhound on My Trail" and a smart reworking of Joni Mitchell's "Black Crow," followed by two introspective, charcoal-hued originals. The Blue Light formula -- Wilson's smoldering voice nestled in a webbing of acoustic instruments, reimagining pop favorites and rural blues -- has changed little since then. The magnificent New Moon Daughter finds her transforming the Monkees' "Last Train to Clarksville" into an expression of pent-up longing; the album's originals, her strongest yet, include the biblical allegory "Solomon Sang" and a spry samba, "A Little Warm Death." Though Belly of the Sun continues in the same general terrain, it is notable for the increased warmth and nuance of Wilson's singing, and the daring of her choices -- particularly the Band's "The Weight" and Jimmy Webb's "Wichita Lineman."

Wilson's approach, which has been copied by Dianne Reeves and others, served her well on other projects: the Miles Davis tribute Traveling Miles is a typically moody exploration, while a duo recording with pianist Jacky Terrasson proves that though she rarely scats like a jazz diva, her improvisatory gifts are formidable, and her kind of singing transcends genre to be timeless. Wilson's formula grows a bit more predictable as time goes on: Though sumptuous texturally, Glamoured's treatments of Dylan ("Lay Lady Lay") and Willie Nelson ("Crazy") follow now-expected pathways by adding a bit of blues, or a whispered moan, to well-known melodies. The draw, as ever, is Wilson's intimate, easygoing phrasing -- here best appreciated on "If Loving You Is Wrong." (TOM MOON)

From 2004's The New Rolling Stone Album Guide