Cleo Laine, Ronnie Scott’s, London

Cleo Laine’s natural contralto still soars into the upper register, swoops to a low-toned whisper and turns sentiment to carnal joy with a growl. Now 83, she needs a bit of chat and badinage to gather breath, but her remarkable vocal strength and control remains, inspired at this gig by her late husband John Dankworth’s artfully staged arrangements. Packed with drama and detail, their sudden modulations, offhand asides and scatted duets draw on the full range of Laine’s extraordinary technique.

Both sets opened with Dankworth-penned instrumentals – the first the chirpy theme for “Tomorrows World”, the second the modernistic “Kite Flight” – and continued with remodelled show tunes and tributes to Ellingtonia. Shakespeare got a mention – two tracks from the 50-year-old album Shakespeare and all That Jazz and the sonnet “Shall I Compare Thee to a Summer’s Day?” – and there were sharp solos and tricky breaks.

Dankworth’s optimistic blend of modernism and swing was neatly captured by bassist Alec Dankworth’s quintet. And with multi-instrumentalist Andy Panyani poised, like the late saxophonist, between the mainstream and the modern, the gig was also a warm-hearted evocation as well as an outstanding vocal showcase.

For all that, it was Laine who commanded centre stage from her first set entry to the sultry riff of Duke Ellington’s “Just a Sitting and a Rocking” to the second-set encore of Blossom Dearie’s “Peel Me a Grape”. Ballads became authentic celebrations of love and show tunes gained undercurrents of desire. And lyrics grew in literacy as she stretched a syllable or when a half-whispered word changed to song in an instant.

Highlights included “I’ve got a Crush on You” with its vocal/trombone duet and blues-tinged final cadenza and “Slow Boat to China”, a densely scored melodrama of breezy riffs, dissonant stabs and bent syllables. The finale returned to Ellington in triumph, first reprising Adelaide Hall’s haunting vocal on “Creole Love Call” and then swaggering through the arranged melodrama of “It Don’t Mean a Thing (If It Ain’t Got That Swing)”. There was sensuous lead, a speedy break with clarinet, then a fugue built to a collective cacophonous shout and a raunchy return for a final verse. 

Ronnie Scott’s