Cassandra Wilson

I’m always looking for ways to develop as a Jazz artist, to find different ways of using my voice.

I cringed when I heard myself described as a Jazz singer. I’ve always thought of myself as a Jazz vocalist.

The first time I heard Bird play, it hit me right between the eyes.

Everything that happened to me as a child involved music. It was part of everyday life, as automatic as breathing.

Every time I see a musician – it doesn’t matter what age – that inspires me, there’s always a secret little wish that maybe we’ll play together, because that’s how I learn and grow and so forth, you know. But hopefully there’s a lot more.

At times in my life the only place I have been happy is when I am on stage.

No one is original. Everyone is derivative.

I still love the whole history of Jazz. The old things sound better than ever.

I don’t really live like a musician myself. I think music is just something that I do, but I’d like to be doing lots of other things. I like to cure all kinds of illness.

There’s only one bass player in a band. I’m the best bass player of any band I’m in.

For years the trio did nothing but play for musicians and other hip people. We starved.

I became a singer to sing my songs. They’re so hip who else is going to sing them?

I would sit on the street corners in my hometown of Indianola, Mississippi, and I would play. And, generally, I would start playing gospel songs. People would come by on the street – you live in Time Square, you know how they do it – they would bunch up. And they would always compliment me on gospel tunes, but they would tip me when I played blues.

My singing evolved with a feeling of intense relaxation, always using my diaphram and breathing specifically through my nose.

The better it gets, the fewer of us know it.

True Jazz lovers understand the rhythms are infectious because they are the roots.

No one remembers who wrote the tune, putting pen to paper in some lonely place. They remember who had the hit.