Listening to Horne in South Carolina, it was clear that she could still sing proper recitals—classical recitals—if she wanted to. She has plenty of voice, plenty of technique, plenty of range. She could begin with some not-so-taxing Baroque pieces, continue with some not- so-taxing lieder or other art songs, throw in a manageable opera aria or two, and then—in the last quarter or third of her program—go pops. But this is the life she has evidently chosen for herself at this stage. Eileen Farrell declared, through a song, “I Gotta Right to Sing the Blues.” And Horne certainly has a right to do whatever she desires—and she does it beautifully. And yet, as you listen to her, you can’t help thinking, with a cringe, Marilyn Home is doing a lounge act.
As she talked to the audience, Horne made frequent mention of her age, and of age generally. These questions are plainly on her mind. Toward the end of the evening, she said, “As I’ve gotten older, I’ve realized, more than ever, that you never want to ‘phone in’ a perforBooks for Our Times
Comments