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[\/et_pb_code][et_pb_text module_class=”article-title” _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” header_font=”||||||||” header_text_align=”center” header_text_color=”#111111″ header_font_size=”68px” custom_margin=”40px||||false|false” global_colors_info=”{}”]<\/p>\n
[\/et_pb_text][et_pb_text module_class=”intro-text” _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” text_orientation=”center” custom_padding=”||0px|||” global_colors_info=”{}”]<\/p>\n
Billie Holiday\u2019s last official London gig was on 14th February, 1954 at the Flamingo Club. Fred Dellar remembers a magical evening.<\/p>\n
[\/et_pb_text][et_pb_text module_class=”credit-main” _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” text_font=”||||||||” text_font_size=”16px” text_orientation=”center” global_colors_info=”{}”]<\/p>\n
Words by Andrew Perry<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][et_pb_image src=”https:\/\/flatplan-plus-content.s3.eu-west-1.amazonaws.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/7\/2024\/06\/GettyImages-74275574-scaled.jpg” title_text=”Lady In Satin” _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” hover_enabled=”0″ global_colors_info=”{}” sticky_enabled=”0″][\/et_pb_image][et_pb_text module_class=”image-gallery-caption” _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” text_font=”|300|||||||” text_font_size=”16px” text_line_height=”1.2em” custom_margin=”-10px||||false|false” global_colors_info=”{}”]<\/p>\n Billie Holiday records her penultimate album ‘Lady in Satin’ at the Columbia Records studio in December 1957.<\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][et_pb_text module_class=”text-with-dropcap” _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”]<\/p>\n Vocalion. I loved that label. In the era of 78 rpm shellac singles, Vocalion both caught the eye and captured jazz hearts. It looked regal and it was regal. No doubt about that. For it featured early releases by Billie Holiday. I was just a kid, hardly into my teens. I couldn\u2019t afford to buy new records. I scoured junk-piles, accumulating a jazz collection for a few pence at a time. Hearing Billie\u2019s lemon-edged voice, effortlessly swinging, yet heart-searing on ballads, was a fantastic reward for spending time in rat-infested junkyards. I never fell out of love with her. Never.<\/p>\n Fast forward to early 1954. I was 23 then, a factory worker who had survived two years in the RAF and come out the other side, still jazz-crazy. The news on the grapevine was that Billie Holiday was to play a club gig at The Flamingo, in the Mapleton Restaurant, just off Leicester Square, after her appearance with the Jack Parnell band at the Royal Albert Hall.<\/p>\n The Flamingo was London\u2019s jazz Valhalla, launched by Jeff Kruger in August 1952. On the first day, a 400-strong queue formed early for the opening. A squad of police was drafted in to keep order before the first band appeared, four hours later. There\u2019d been trouble there initially. But it was soon sorted out. Kruger\u2019s father had been East End gangster Jack Spot\u2019s barber. When a number of handbag thefts threatened the club, some friendly villains sorted things out.<\/p>\n \u201cThe local Charing Cross hospital had a spate of broken fingers to heal,\u201d Kruger would later confide to me.<\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][et_pb_text module_class=”pull-quote” _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” header_2_text_align=”center” header_2_text_color=”#111111″ header_2_font_size=”46px” header_2_line_height=”1.2em” custom_margin=”||0px||false|false” global_colors_info=”{}”]<\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][et_pb_divider color=”#111111″ module_class=”custom-divider” _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” custom_margin=”||0px||false|false” custom_padding=”||0px||false|false” global_colors_info=”{}”][\/et_pb_divider][et_pb_text module_class=”text-with-dropcap” _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”]<\/p>\n It was on St Valentine\u2019s Day, Sunday, February 14, 1954 that my girlfriend Pam and I caught the tube to Leicester Square and headed into the Flamingo. It was overcrowded from the start. It seemed that every jazz musician in London was in the place.<\/p>\n \u201cLook, there\u2019s Ray Ellington over there,\u201d observed Pam as we waited for Billie to arrive from the Albert. At ten o\u2019clock we were still waiting. Eventually and unbelievably, it happened.<\/p>\n Billie Holiday was on-stage. Her pianist Carl Drinkard played a lead-in, the club\u2019s regular rhythm section \u2013 drummer Tony Kinsey plus bassist Sammy Stokes \u2013 moved into action and Billie was suddenly in incomparable flight. I can\u2019t recall what she sang that night, just that she was there. I somehow clambered onto a chair and two girls (neither of which was Pam) clung on to either side of me. Sax-player Don Weller, whom Billie had invited to the Flamingo, tried desperately to reach the stage but was unable to make his way through the crowd and settled for a later drink with Billie in the band room. Somewhere, Jeff Kruger was smiling in the background.<\/p>\n \u201cEveryone warned me that Billie was a drug addict but her manager, Joe Glaser, swore to me that she was clean,\u201d Kruger mused later. \u201c\u2018However,\u2019 said Glaser, \u2018She\u2019s a kind of nervous lady and prone to take a drink. That\u2019s the stuff you gotta watch.\u2019\u201d<\/p>\n Billie had played concerts in Manchester and Nottingham, prior to her two London dates. En route to the first show \u2013 at Manchester \u2013 Billie took a comfort stop at a transport cafe. \u201cWhen she came out of the Ladies to rejoin us,\u201d remembered Kruger, \u201cshe was staggering. She\u2019d been drinking. But where was she getting it from? She didn\u2019t even take her handbag in with her. She had no drinks in her purse or travelling bag. However, she did carry an inordinate number of small perfume bottles and it was in these that we found her drink.\u201d<\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][et_pb_image src=”https:\/\/flatplan-plus-content.s3.eu-west-1.amazonaws.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/7\/2024\/06\/GettyImages-90431566-scaled.jpg” title_text=”Billie Holiday” _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” hover_enabled=”0″ global_colors_info=”{}” sticky_enabled=”0″][\/et_pb_image][et_pb_text module_class=”image-gallery-caption” _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” text_font=”|300|||||||” text_font_size=”16px” text_line_height=”1.2em” custom_margin=”-10px||||false|false” global_colors_info=”{}”]<\/p>\n Ben Webster, Billie Holiday and Johnny Russell in 1935.<\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”]<\/p>\n Billie had enjoyed a whisky or two prior to her set at the Flamingo and was singing as though inspired. Time has dimmed my memory of everything except that she was superb. Jack Parnell, the drummer who\u2019d led the big band at the Albert Hall recalls that while Billie looked like a sack of old clothes at rehearsals, by the end of the evening she looked like a girl of 18.<\/p>\n \u201cShe was thrilled that we had given her a suite at a hotel,\u201d said Jeff Kruger. \u201cShe was used to being shoved into third-rate rooms on the road. At Manchester, her [future] husband, the brutish [Louis] McKay was there, a man who had endearing habits like hitting his wife when the mood took him. When she needed him, more often than not he\u2019d be out spending her money, usually on seducing other women. Little wonder that Billie turned to drink for consolation. Indeed, as I looked past McKay, I could see she was already out of her skull. Her slurred words came through a fog of alcohol.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cListen honey,\u201d Billie told Kruger, \u201cwhen it\u2019s show time, you just take me out to that microphone. Put my left hand on the mike, open the curtain and I\u2019ll go. When you want me to finish, after an hour or whatever, just shut the curtains and come and get me. I won\u2019t disgrace you.\u201d<\/p>\n Billie was as good as her word. \u201cShe did 50 minutes,\u201d said Kruger, \u201csang like a bird, never missed a note \u2013 though she was roaring drunk.\u201d<\/p>\n At the Flamingo, she turned on the magic yet again. \u201cNo artist in the world would have wanted to follow Billie Holiday on the stage that night,\u201d said Kruger. Respected jazz critic Max Jones added that, \u201cthose present were fortunate to hear Lady Day at her exquisite best.\u201d<\/p>\n As one of those fortunate souls and a Billie-believer of long standing, I can only concur. There are moments in life when something happens, moments so magical you know they can never, never be repeated. That night at the Flamingo, at the conclusion of her only British tour, Billie Holiday delivered such a moment.<\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][et_pb_divider color=”#111111″ module_class=”custom-divider” _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” custom_margin=”||0px||false|false” custom_padding=”||0px||false|false” global_colors_info=”{}”][\/et_pb_divider][et_pb_text module_class=”s-custom-header” _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” header_2_font=”|700|||||||” header_2_font_size=”42px” global_colors_info=”{}”]<\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][et_pb_text module_class=”intro-text” _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” text_orientation=”center” global_colors_info=”{}”]<\/p>\n \u00a0From joyful pop to agony and heartbreak, a life live in 10 songs\u2026<\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][et_pb_image src=”https:\/\/flatplan-plus-content.s3.eu-west-1.amazonaws.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/7\/2024\/06\/s_7498A.jpg” title_text=”s_7498A” _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”][\/et_pb_image][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”]<\/p>\n 1 What A Little Moonlight Can Do<\/strong> Not Billie\u2019s debut recording \u2013 she\u2019d recorded Riffin\u2019 The Scotch with Benny Goodman in 1933 \u2013 this nevertheless was a joyous high-point in a session of four songs that really launched the New York-based singer\u2019s on-disc career. Credited to The Teddy Wilson Orchestra, a small, all-star group featuring pianist Wilson, Benny Goodman on clarinet, Roy Eldridge on trumpet, John Kirby on bass, John Trueheart on guitar and drummer Cozy Cole, this was just a pop song of the moment, stemming from the British film Roadhouse and aimed at the burgeoning jukebox trade by producer John Hammond. But the 20-year-old Billie, small-voiced, less intense than later, was already phrasing in an inimitable and unique fashion, and transformed the number into a memorable standard, one that would still form part of her performances many years later. FD<\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][et_pb_image src=”https:\/\/flatplan-plus-content.s3.eu-west-1.amazonaws.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/7\/2024\/06\/s_Vocalion4126A.jpg” title_text=”s_Vocalion4126A” _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”][\/et_pb_image][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”]<\/p>\n 2 You Go To My Head <\/strong> On May 11, 1938, Billie Holiday took a day off from touring with the Artie Shaw band to record this J Fred Coots and Haven Gillespie torch ballad with a six-piece pick-up band in New York. Her previous collaborator, Teddy Wilson, had already enjoyed a hit with Nan Wynn on their refined take; Billie would return with a more considered version under Norman Granz in 1952. Here though, she\u2019s abandoned to the thrill of the moment, living the narcotic rush of cursed love through her woozy slur. Cushioned by lazily eloquent horns and strolling piano, her elongation of the title refrain conveys joy, hope, pain, self-doubt. The effect is dizzying and yields the second of three Top 20 hits for her that year. LW<\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][et_pb_image src=”https:\/\/flatplan-plus-content.s3.eu-west-1.amazonaws.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/7\/2024\/06\/Commodore_526A_S.jpg” title_text=”Commodore_526A_S” _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”][\/et_pb_image][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”]<\/p>\n 3 Strange Fruit <\/strong> Nothing like it ever. Haunts everyone who hears it. Haunted her the rest of her life. Communist teacher Abel Meeropol\u2019s lynching song came for her when she was 23 \u2013 a vibrant blue-jazz chantoozie who knew her every minute happened because-she-was-black. She\u2019d never said it. The song said it. She sang it. For little Commodore because John Hammond and Columbia couldn\u2019t face it. The Caf\u00e9 Society band\u2019s long mood-set found the heart; muted trumpet then piano just remembering for a while and, after 70 seconds, Billie\u2026 telling it. No histrionics despite the terror, just her honey voice dripping thick blood from every curdled syllable. \u201cPastoral scene\u2026 bulging eyes\u2026 twisted mouth\u2026 burning flesh\u2026 rot\u2026 here is a strange and bitter crop\u201d. See also the live video of 1959, shortly before she died \u2013 still all haunt. PS<\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][et_pb_image src=”https:\/\/flatplan-plus-content.s3.eu-west-1.amazonaws.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/7\/2024\/06\/R_6153396_1423296366_6938_jpeg.jpg” title_text=”R_6153396_1423296366_6938_jpeg” _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”][\/et_pb_image][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”]<\/p>\n 4 God Bless the Child <\/strong> Billie\u2019s fractious relationship with her mother reached breaking point when the older woman refused to lend her daughter money, despite being the regular recipient of Billie\u2019s post-success generosity. This frustrating situation fed into God Bless The Child, a jumbled piece of homespun philosophy about independence, survival of the fittest, the transient nature of money and the limitations of family ties. The song\u2019s gentle wisdom produced one of Billie\u2019s most touching performances and lauded compositions; except, she probably didn\u2019t write it. Co-writer Arthur Herzog remembers asking Billie for a down-home Southern expression around which to build a song. Using some of her melodic suggestions, Herzog said, \u201cBillie, I\u2019ll give you half the song if you make the record.\u201d\u00a0CI<\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][et_pb_image src=”https:\/\/flatplan-plus-content.s3.eu-west-1.amazonaws.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/7\/2024\/06\/R_5245885_1390231503_7912_jpeg.jpg” title_text=”R_5245885_1390231503_7912_jpeg” _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”][\/et_pb_image][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”]<\/p>\n 5 Porgy <\/strong> By the \u201940s Decca had become one of the foremost labels in America, buoyed by multimillion releases from Bing Crosby, The Andrews Sisters, etc. Signing for the label in 1944 should have revived Billie\u2019s recording career \u2013 but in the wake of 1945\u2019s Lover Man her hits dried up, possibly due to lack of airplay caused by her increasingly bad reputation. Even so, her material from this period was of high quality, beautifully produced, and often featuring top arrangers like Gordon Jenkins or Toots Camarata. Porgy was an unlikely vehicle. Originally titled I Loves You, Porgy and a duet from George Gershwin\u2019s Porgy And Bess, Billie delivering the song in soft, resigned manner, with intimate backing from pianist Bobby Tucker\u2019s trio. Nina Simone said the interpretation was the reason she first loved Billie Holiday. FD<\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][et_pb_image src=”https:\/\/flatplan-plus-content.s3.eu-west-1.amazonaws.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/7\/2024\/06\/s_Decca24785B.jpg” title_text=”s_Decca24785B” _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”][\/et_pb_image][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”]<\/p>\n 6 My Sweet Hunk O\u2019 Trash <\/strong> Adolescent Billie earned cash by cleaning brothel stoops (and the wallets of unsuspecting johns) in Baltimore. One \u2018house\u2019 had a gramophone and she would spin 78s by her Jazz Age heroes: Bessie Smith and Louis Armstrong. \u201cI copied my style from Louis,\u201d she later noted. \u201cI heard a record [he] made called West End Blues. He doesn\u2019t say any words and I thought, this is wonderful!\u201d In 1947 she took a mostly-singing role in the Louis film New Orleans. After a year in prison for one of several dope busts, she recorded her only session with Satch in 1949, including this tongue-in-cheek sass contest, showing the wild wit of a torch singer known for gloomy Sundays. Controversially, Armstrong allegedly says, \u201cFuck \u2019em, baby\u201d at 2:53. A re-record was ordered, but what sounds like the original is still available. MS<\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][et_pb_image src=”https:\/\/flatplan-plus-content.s3.eu-west-1.amazonaws.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/7\/2024\/06\/110325824561.jpg” title_text=”110325824561″ _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”][\/et_pb_image][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”]<\/p>\n 7 Love For Sale <\/strong> Recorded late April, 1952, probably during her first session for Norman Granz, Love For Sale overtured Billie\u2019s final tragedy \u2013 correct usage: Aristotle would have acknowledged the \u201cpity and awe\u201d as she sang for everybody and hit the skids, her power unvanquished except by death. The track declares her \u201940s \u2018pop\u2019 period over, setting her slur-and-veer vocal against a lone piano \u2013 Oscar Peterson playing with a near-classical formality, which works by ignoring her. Cole Porter wrote the song; Billie lived it as a teenage hooker. But she keeps her cool, her self-possession, to insinuate the brutal truths she knows: \u201cAppetising young love for sale\/Love that\u2019s fresh and still unspoiled\/Love that\u2019s only slightly soiled\u2026\u201d PS<\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][et_pb_image src=”https:\/\/flatplan-plus-content.s3.eu-west-1.amazonaws.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/7\/2024\/06\/R_2539435_1289489827_jpeg.jpg” title_text=”R_2539435_1289489827_jpeg” _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”][\/et_pb_image][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”]<\/p>\n 8 Don\u2019t Explain <\/strong> Like another Holiday favourite, My Man, Don\u2019t Explain has a disturbing power. Co-authored by Billie with Arthur Herzog, the song is a moving portrayal of the kind of emotional dependency which Billie often suffered from (\u201cYou\u2019re my joy and pain,\u201d she sings, helplessly, \u201cI\u2019m so completely yours\u201d) and exudes a poignant, painful authenticity. Though ostensibly inspired by husband Jimmy Monroe\u2019s infidelities, the song\u2019s acceptance of betrayal also speaks of Billie\u2019s life-long attitude to romance. The 1945 recording with Toots Camarata\u2019s lush strings underlines Billie\u2019s vulnerability, but the starker 1957 Carnegie Hall version at a book-promoting concert designed to underline the autobiographical aspects of her music finds the singer at her most vivid and emotionally revealed. CI<\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][et_pb_image src=”https:\/\/flatplan-plus-content.s3.eu-west-1.amazonaws.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/7\/2024\/06\/Firefox-Plugin-Process-Shockwave-FlashScreenSnapz020.jpg” title_text=”Firefox Plugin Process (Shockwave Flash)ScreenSnapz020″ _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”][\/et_pb_image][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”]<\/p>\n 9 Fine and Mellow <\/strong> The producers of this TV special captured various performances with integrity and minimal pretension \u2013 qualities Holiday owned for a lifetime. In her segment, she sang her composition Fine And Mellow, a straight blues and setlist regular. Joining her was a jazz super-session: Coleman Hawkins, Ben Webster, Roy Eldridge and others. But her true co-star was old pal, fellow Count Basie alumnus and tenor legend Lester Young. He\u2019d named her Lady Day, she\u2019d dubbed him Prez \u2013 for President. Although sick with alcoholism, when Prez \u2013 the only horn-man seated \u2013 stood to solo he blew a chorus that wafted like a low, sad moan over the studio. Lady gave with a knowing, high-beam smile, as the crew in the control room quietly wept. MS<\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][et_pb_image src=”https:\/\/flatplan-plus-content.s3.eu-west-1.amazonaws.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/7\/2024\/06\/img_2345.jpg” title_text=”img_2345″ _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”][\/et_pb_image][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”]<\/p>\n 10 I\u2019m A Fool To Want You <\/strong> February 20, 1958, with arranger\/conductor Ray Ellis, a 40-piece orchestra and a water pitcher of vodka, Billie Holiday stares into the abyss on a cover of the Sinatra song which becomes the opening track on Lady In Satin, her penultimate album. Her trebly quaver, vitiated from years of abuse and mainlined to her soul, captures the agony and loneliness of a life of unrequited love, in its resigned, broken tone. Framed by muted horns and strings that rise then fall then rise again \u2013 as if atuned to her papery breathing \u2013 the depth of emotion and self-knowledge are palpable when she whisper-croaks, \u201cTake me back, I love you.\u201d In just 17 months\u2019 time she\u2019ll be gone. LW<\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”]<\/p>\n Compiled and written by Fred Dellar, Chris Ingham, Michael Simmons, Phil Sutcliffe and Lois Wilson<\/p>\n These articles originally appeared in issue 259 of MOJO<\/em><\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][et_pb_divider color=”#111111″ module_class=”custom-divider” _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” custom_margin=”||0px||false|false” custom_padding=”||0px||false|false” global_colors_info=”{}”][\/et_pb_divider][et_pb_text module_class=”credit-names” _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” text_font_size=”14px” text_orientation=”center” global_colors_info=”{}”]<\/p>\n Images: <\/strong>Getty<\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][\/et_pb_section]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" \u201cEveryone warned me that Billie was a drug addict but her manager, Joe Glaser, swore to me that she was clean,\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":7,"featured_media":1489,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"_et_pb_use_builder":"on","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","_lmt_disableupdate":"","_lmt_disable":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[7],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-1487","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-mojo-presents"],"acf":[],"modified_by":"akindell","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/flatplanplus.io\/mojo\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1487","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/flatplanplus.io\/mojo\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/flatplanplus.io\/mojo\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/flatplanplus.io\/mojo\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/7"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/flatplanplus.io\/mojo\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1487"}],"version-history":[{"count":9,"href":"https:\/\/flatplanplus.io\/mojo\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1487\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1566,"href":"https:\/\/flatplanplus.io\/mojo\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1487\/revisions\/1566"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/flatplanplus.io\/mojo\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/1489"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/flatplanplus.io\/mojo\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1487"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/flatplanplus.io\/mojo\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1487"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/flatplanplus.io\/mojo\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1487"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}\u201cNo artist in the world would have wanted to follow Billie Holiday on the stage that night,\u201d<\/h2>\n
Lady Sings The Blues<\/h2>\n
(Brunswick, 1935) <\/strong><\/p>\n
(Vocalion, 1938)<\/strong><\/p>\n
(Commodore, 1939)<\/strong><\/p>\n
(Okeh, 1941)<\/strong><\/p>\n
(Decca, 1948)<\/strong><\/p>\n
(Decca, 1949)<\/strong><\/p>\n
(Clef\/Verve, 1954)<\/strong><\/p>\n
(Verve, 1957)<\/strong><\/p>\n
(The Sound Of Jazz TV show,\u00a01957)<\/strong><\/p>\n
(Columbia, 1958)<\/strong><\/p>\n