An Appreciation of Sheila Jordan
From the Jazz Collector archives:
Like all collectors, I’ve let prized records slip through my fingers through the years. I would go to Dayton’s on 12th Street in Manhattan in the early 1980s and balk at their astronomical prices. Looking back, these “astronomical” prices were in the $50 and $60 range for original pressings of Blue Notes, Prestiges and other rarities. I remember passing on a mint copy of Hank Mobley’s Second Message, Prestige 7082, because I thought $45 was exorbitant. If you look at the Jazz Collector Price Guide on Jazzcollector.com, you’ll see that a copy recently sold for $661. Ah, to go back in time. Even more irksome are the lost treasures of my collection that I either sold or traded. I’ve gotten rid of some prized records this way, always figuring it would be no problem replacing them. Sure. Many of those that slipped away are gone forever, never to return.eBay, however, has been a godsend in recovering lost items simply because there’s so much available, assuming you are (1) willing to pay the price and (2) able to find dealers you trust. I recently lucked out replacing one of those records I sold: Sheila Jordan, Portrait of Sheila, Blue Note 9002. I love this record but sold it 14 or so years ago when I bought a CD version. I soon realized, however, that having it on CD is not the same as having it on LP. Since then, I’ve been hoping to find a reasonably priced copy. No luck – until recently on eBay, when I picked up a nice copy for $58, which was fine by me. It’s great to have this record back on the shelf. A particular favorite: Falling in Love With Love, featuring some nice guitar accompaniment by Barry Galbraith.
Years ago, maybe in the late 1970s, I saw Jordan in a small club in Greenwich Village. The place was nearly empty and people were talking and not really paying attention to the music. I went up to her, told her I loved her Blue Note album and asked her to sing Falling in Love With Love. She was thrilled and somewhat flabbergasted that anyone had even heard of the album. She gave me a kiss on the cheek and sang the song and everyone in the club was finally quiet and attentive and appreciative. By the end she got a standing ovation and was grinning ear to ear. It was a nice moment.
Dayton’s: the fat guy whose name was Jay? He would take a pencil from behind his ear and, without a word, would firmly print on the back of the sleeve the price he wanted for the albums one had selected. No discussion possible.