The raw power of Odetta’s voice is something to behold. It’s a combination of many things. Her unique phrasing and innate feel for a song was a gift reinforced by her exposure to blues and spiritual music. The fire was lit early on. She found and honed her voice by listening to blues, folk and jazz of the African-American traditions. She listened hard and learned fast.
Odetta Holmes grew up at a extraordinary time in US history in the depths of the Depression. She was born in the heart of it all in Birmingham, Alabama, on New Year’s Eve, 1930. She claimed that the music she absorbed growing up was born of the fury and the frustrations of the people around her.
Whenever she sang the old ballads and slavery songs, she insisted on honouring the lives of the singers who reaffirmed themselves by striving against the odds to have their voices heard. She inherited their courage and self-belief.
Anyone who came across Odetta fell for her. Bob Dylan would have heard the extraordinary version of The Waterboy we now marvel at on you tube where she swoops and barks and hollers with tremendous force. It's impossible to passively listen to that performance. It's the epitome of moving. You've just got to sit up and take notice and then action if necessary.
Odetta wasn’t particularly interested in the fame. She was more concerned with what it was that she could do with it to change things. The way Dylan lionised her made this 1965 tribute album an inevitability.
In the hands of a lesser artist it could have been a twee exercise in fandom but it's nothing of the sort. Firstly, the arrangements with guitarist Bruce Langhorne, a sometimes Dylan cohort, and bassist Bill Lee, give the sound a rhythm and a swing that is uncustomary for a folk record. It gels together beautifully. The choice of material makes it special too. Tomorrow is a Long Time is a dream. Her voice wavers between stridently soulful and gossamer soft, matching the stream of consciousness images. It's speckled with light and dark. A glorious interpretation.
