Jazz Singer and Composer Rene Marie
Who Will Sing My Songs?
Written by BONNIE MCCUNE
Photography by KIRA HORVATH
Chanteuse and composer Rene Marie might be called a late bloomer except for the fact that she's been singing and writing jazz since adolescence. A native of Virginia, she has a story unique to her — her perspective special because of her ethnicity, upbringing and hometown. Yet her general situation was not uncommon for women who came of age in the '60s and '70s, when women were expected to give priority to their husband and family.
Now well known in jazz circles, this multitalented personality has learned not to let life set limits on her, and furthermore, not to restrict herself. At key points in time she's been faced with decisions. Choosing one option often was less frightening, more stable; selecting another direction meant risk and possible failure. Still she dared the potential failure to remain true to the dictates of her own spirit. As she points out, "There's a price to pay if you don't do something, if you aren't true to yourself."
But how do you discover your inner self? Through time and experience. Rene Marie's time and experience began as one of nine children born to a family in the South, when formal discrimination still was the law of that land. Jim Crow made a major impact on the child Rene, but it did not cripple her. Instead she taps it for her compositions, uses it for emotional depth in singing particular songs and moves past it to find the human traits and feelings we all have in common.
Shortly before the New Year of 2009, significant because many of her major changes (read, "opportunities") occurred on New Year's Eve, Rene shared her story with Denver Woman.
An incident on New Year's Eve several years ago brought her to Denver, a place she'd never considered for a home base. She was living in Atlanta and aware of the need for a change, yet her performance schedule gave her no time to look around at other cities. New York became an option when a musician friend was eager to loan his apartment during a three-month European tour. Just before she was prepared to move, he called and told her his tour had been canceled. Then strep throat struck her, further forcing her into inactivity.
What to do? A New Year's Eve telephone conversation with another friend in Denver revealed his dilemma — empty rental property. And the rent was exactly the amount Marie had set as her range. Denver met the major condition of her musician's lifestyle — access to a major airport. So the Mile High City became her home.
Luck, Coincidence or ??
The move is perhaps an example of luck or coincidence; had Marie not resolved the challenges earlier in her life, she never would have had the option. An early marriage in her teens matched her with a man whom she believed would be her life companion. Her interests were centered on children, a home, a strong religion, a stable job in a bank and always music. She continued to play piano, compose, sing at home. Her husband learned five instruments. Both sons sang and played. What more could the young mother want?
Yet something didn't add up. She was happy, content with her job and family, but "at night, something isn't right," she felt. "I was denying a big part of me."
That big part was jazz, performing for an audience the songs she loved and the ones she composed. Yet her religion frowned on public performances and the taint of dissipation they could carry, and her husband agreed. Compromise was required. Over nearly two years, in a go-round of give-and-take, Marie tried singing as opportunities arose. Each attempt concluded with her husband's disapproval until finally, the last day of 1997 (there's the auspicious New Year's Eve date again), he issued his ultimatum: Stop performing. On the verge of making her first CD, Marie instead chose to leave the marriage.
Divorce is a huge decision. "When you're in a situation that's false to yourself, any change appears drastic," Marie says. "We always have choice," she continues. "We may be afraid, but we have a choice."
The years were passing by. Referring to her 30s and 40s, when she was frustrated by her inability to perform, she adds, "When it's time for me to die, I don't want to be saying, 'I wish I had.'"
A New, Independent Life
The leap into independence was not easy. She'd never before lived on her own. Still working full time at the bank, Marie juggled her musical career with making a living. The production of her first CD stretched out over months. Once she had a product in her hand, she embarked on spreading the word about her music by sending copies to radio stations.
It was at this point she realized, "I'm at a crossroads." She needed to get her own band, needed to focus on bookings. Advice from her oldest brother gave her courage. "Jump and the net will appear," he said.
And appear it did. Marie set New Year's Eve 1998 as the date to pursue singing full time. "I'm going to trust that I'm doing right," she told herself. The following Monday a theater called. "We need a singer yesterday," she was told. The entertainer who was scheduled had canceled unexpectedly. A 10-week gig followed, and Marie never looked back.
"This was like a window being opened and me flying out like a bird on a current," she describes. In quick succession, from 2000 to 2004, she signed with a record producer, recorded four CDs on the MaxJazz label and won domestic and international awards for her work.
Much of her early work rested on jazz favorites, not her own compositions. Although she wrote her first song at 15, people advised her to "just sing the standards." An incident at a Chicago jazz club, whose owner was known for strong opinions about women (didn't favor 'em) as well as repertoires (wanted compliance with his preferences), brought clarity about the role of her original compositions. The owner didn't like the way she moved on stage, didn't like her creations and threatened to cut short her contract unless she sang his choices. Mulling over what to do, Marie was walking to the club and stepped into the street, nearly getting run over by a bus.
"If I sing standards tonight and then get hit by a bus, who will sing my songs?" she asked herself. This enlightenment strengthened her way of life, her belief that she must be true to her inner voice.
Back she went to the club owner and gave him a challenge. Let her sing her compositions, and if the audience evaporated and no money was made, he wouldn't have to pay her. Needless to say, crowds swelled, and Marie learned she could connect to people with her compositions.
Some of her songs are rooted in depressing topics, like abuse. Others are inspired by lighter themes, like a pair of red high-heeled shoes changing a woman's personality. Regardless of how creativity reveals itself, Marie feels a commitment to write about her own experiences. "Lots of the classics were written by white men in the 1930s," she muses. "Why not write about today's issues?" Surely the obligation of anyone with creativity.
Another happenstance helped form the group that tours with her. A shared stage for a short-term gig put her in touch with drummer Quentin Baxter. Upon Marie's request to play Strange Fruit (a Billie Holiday classic about a lynching), Baxter initially refused because he felt most interpretations don't do the piece justice. Then he agreed to give Marie a chance. The performance ended with the two realizing they "vibrate on the same musical level." Baxter brought in acoustic bassist Rodney Jordan and pianist Kevin Bales.
Together, the group has toured in the United States and also visited Europe and Japan. Marie loves life on the road and being paid to travel, a new experience since she started performing. However, travel has been a low priority for several years. Her remarriage to a Denverite and her decision to seek more independence in recordings and appearances led her to a near hiatus.
The Strength of Beliefs
This year will see her resume touring, focusing on presentations of her sometimes controversial suite, Voice of My Beautiful Country. Inspiration for the four movements, which incorporate portions of standard patriotic songs, came from an interview in Russia when the interviewer referred to her as an American. Marie was surprised and dismayed to discover that she didn't feel like an American. And yet she loved God Bless America, America the Beautiful, and the Star-Spangled Banner. Her interpretations are adaptations to express the dichotomy and contradictions of being a person of color in America.
In view of the strengths of this woman's beliefs, it's little wonder that an appearance in the summer of 2008 brought Marie inadvertently into the center of controversy. Asked to sing the national anthem at Mayor John Hickenlooper's State of the City address, she did so, but substituted her version (lyrics from Lift Every Voice and Sing, commonly referred to as the black national anthem) for the one expected. The resulting storm of some 1,500 e-mails (about 50/50 pro and con her version) as well as the media coverage surprised her. She'd meant no offense but felt an obligation to deliver her rendering, created out of her experiences and interpretations. Of the response she says, "It was like opening a door into what people are really thinking and feeling about race relations in this country."
As for the future, Rene Marie will let it take care of itself. She says, "You don't start with the goal of being famous. If you follow the thread that resonates with you, take this thing you love and apply it, you never know where it's going to lead you."
(Hear Rene Marie's jazz renditions and keep up with her scheduled appearances on her Web site: www.renemarie.com).
