Toni Lee Scott “Vol. Lonely”

The reasons I picked up this record: I know nothing about it. Attractive, mysterious cover (black and white photo of Toni Lee Scott in the shadows). Intriguing title—Vol. Lonely—what’s that even mean? Is it like Vol. 1, or Vol. 2, but “Lonely” instead of a number? Or is there something I’m missing? Let me take another guess… as a word root, vol means “wish.” But there’s that period, which indicates that it means “volume,” so… Maybe it’s because this is her only album? But how would she know that at the time? Anyway, also, a label I never head of (Äva Records, from Los Angeles, which folded in 1965) —that always gives me a little thrill of mystery. It looks like a good era, it looks like the Sixties, though the date (1964) is not in evidence. A good lineup of songs. Also, there’s a paragraph of smoldering liner notes by someone named “Mister Gray.” All promising. Sometimes you make these assumptions and are dead wrong, but in this case, the music exceeded my hopes for it—it’s a great record—one that doesn’t want to leave my turntable—I’ve got to say. You can find this record, too, for whatever reason (I did) —so you’d be a fool not to pick it up. She should have more records—and be more famous. And the world should be a better place.

It's easy to find a few things about her on the internet, including an article by Eugene Chadbourne (AllMusic site). Briefly, Toni Lee Scott was born in 1933, in San Francisco, wanted to be a singer, lost a leg in a motorcycle accident as a young woman, so it was a rough start, but she still had a career singing live, in clubs and such—but made only a few records. So, we’re lucky to have this one. It’s as good as any jazz vocal record I have—her singing is full of emotion and personality, and the piano, bass, drums, guitar combo is excellent. Actually, a couple of combos, I guess—so I’ll just name the musicians: Gerald Wiggins, Dan Abney, Howard Roberts, Wilfred Middlebrooks, Red Callender, and Jackie Mills. All the songs and performances are good—my favorites are: “One for My Baby,” “San Francisco,” “Ten Cents a Dance” (an amazing, nightclub style rendition) (well, they all are). Also, great versions of favorites, “Something Cool,” and “In the Wee Small Hours of the Morning.” Also, the record’s saddest and most fascinating, “Where’s the Boy I Saved for a Rainy Day”—that’s one I’ve never heard before—and I’m grateful to not miss out now. The whole record is something. I’m leaving it close at hand for a while.

12.6.24