Ron Kaplan Lounging Around

Kapland Records 1999

This was an enjoyable batch of vocalists to review. Imagine, four sessions featuring singers, and not a dog - or wan soprano - in the batch. All four singers have robust voices, and they all know how to use them. All benefit from superior bands that complement their particular styles. Only one, Mark Murphy, can be considered a star. The other three are regional artists.

To my ears the most enjoyable of the lot is Ron Kaplan, who exercises his husky baritone in and about Santa Cruz, California. Kaplan, however, almost lost me at first. He opens with "Here's that Rainy Day" pitched high in his range. He seems to strain on several notes, sounding like he hasn't fully warmed up. Now, I've heard enough mediocre vocal sessions to spot the warning signs. This was a session I'd probably be able to dismiss after a couple listenings, I thought. Then Donny McCaslin came in with a hard-driving and diverting tenor solo. Not all lost I thought. And Kaplan's out chorus, though he strayed further from the melody, didn't have the problems that plagued the first. Indeed as the session progressed, I thought "this guy's not bad." A little derivative of Sinatra, but not bad. Well, far from giving this the requisite few listens and a pan, Lounging Around became a regular on my disc player.

In an attempt to address the Sinatra issue directly, I did some back to back listening to Kaplan and the master. As is the case when I do that, the connection is confirmed, but it's really the differences that are highlighted. He does favor the Sinatra repertoire, but makes it his own. Kaplan has a looser, Jazzier approach. He plays freely with the melody and is at his best when he luxuriates in his lower register, which has the richness of high quality dark chocolate. He gives free rein to it on "Blues in the Night," crooning over Steve Czarnecki's Hammond B-3. Kaplan, here and on his earlier session (3/00, p. 125), favors familiar songs. But to me one real test of a vocalist is how he or she deals with an unfamiliar number. He sings the "No One Ever Tells You," by Atwood and Coates, and drives it home so you would think you'd been hearing this song for years. If justice and taste ruled the radio waves, this would be a hit.

Kaplan benefits from better than usual support. He's buoyed by a crack rhythm section, and McCaslin deserves an award for strongest tenor spots between vocal choruses. Get past those first 80 seconds and I think vocal lovers will have found a friend for life.