Dee Dee Bridgewater is on the cusp of turning 75, yet her passion for music remains as vibrant as ever. The renowned jazz singer's voice has been a staple in American jazz for decades, spanning six decades and numerous collaborations with some of the genre's greatest minds.
While she may be preparing to take the stage in Des Moines, Iowa, to perform timeless classics from the Great American Songbook, Bridgewater's current repertoire is far more urgent. Her songs now reflect her deep concern for the state of democracy in the United States. "I'm too old and I've been through too much," she asserts, echoing the sentiments of a generation that has grown weary of systemic injustices.
This introspection is not new to Bridgewater, who has long used her platform as an artist to tackle issues of racism and inequality. Her work with women in jazz has taken center stage, particularly with the formation of the Woodshed Network, an initiative aimed at providing resources for female musicians to break into the industry. The organization's placement within the Kennedy Center, a symbol of American cultural vitality, is now under threat due to the installation of Donald Trump and his supporters.
Bridgewater's distaste for these developments is palpable, and her reluctance to be silenced in the face of adversity is unwavering. Her music has long served as a powerful tool for activism, and this latest wave of protest songs only serves to underscore her commitment to using her voice to inspire change. "I couldn't go to a No Kings protest," she notes wryly, "but I do protest songs with the We Exist! band."
The list of artists whose work Bridgewater has drawn upon for inspiration is long and impressive: Nina Simone's Mississippi Goddam, Billy Taylor's civil rights anthem I Wish I Knew How It Would Feel to Be Free, Donny Hathaway's Tryin' Times – all have found their way into her repertoire. For the elderly jazz singer, however, it is not just about singing protest songs; it is a matter of survival.
Bridgewater credits her early days as a performer with shaping her determination to speak out against injustice. Her experiences, both triumphant and traumatic, have imbued her music with an intensity that belies her tender age. "I always wanted to be like Miles Davis," she says, "not staying in one groove but constantly changing, not staying still."
The artist's recent appearance at the UK's We Out Here festival has reignited a desire to share her jazz vision with new audiences – and to reclaim the clubs that have long been a vital part of her craft. With an upcoming album scheduled for release alongside Gilles Peterson and Louie Vega, Bridgewater remains as resolute in her pursuit of artistic freedom as ever.
For this trailblazing artist, age is merely a number; passion and conviction are eternal constants.
While she may be preparing to take the stage in Des Moines, Iowa, to perform timeless classics from the Great American Songbook, Bridgewater's current repertoire is far more urgent. Her songs now reflect her deep concern for the state of democracy in the United States. "I'm too old and I've been through too much," she asserts, echoing the sentiments of a generation that has grown weary of systemic injustices.
This introspection is not new to Bridgewater, who has long used her platform as an artist to tackle issues of racism and inequality. Her work with women in jazz has taken center stage, particularly with the formation of the Woodshed Network, an initiative aimed at providing resources for female musicians to break into the industry. The organization's placement within the Kennedy Center, a symbol of American cultural vitality, is now under threat due to the installation of Donald Trump and his supporters.
Bridgewater's distaste for these developments is palpable, and her reluctance to be silenced in the face of adversity is unwavering. Her music has long served as a powerful tool for activism, and this latest wave of protest songs only serves to underscore her commitment to using her voice to inspire change. "I couldn't go to a No Kings protest," she notes wryly, "but I do protest songs with the We Exist! band."
The list of artists whose work Bridgewater has drawn upon for inspiration is long and impressive: Nina Simone's Mississippi Goddam, Billy Taylor's civil rights anthem I Wish I Knew How It Would Feel to Be Free, Donny Hathaway's Tryin' Times – all have found their way into her repertoire. For the elderly jazz singer, however, it is not just about singing protest songs; it is a matter of survival.
Bridgewater credits her early days as a performer with shaping her determination to speak out against injustice. Her experiences, both triumphant and traumatic, have imbued her music with an intensity that belies her tender age. "I always wanted to be like Miles Davis," she says, "not staying in one groove but constantly changing, not staying still."
The artist's recent appearance at the UK's We Out Here festival has reignited a desire to share her jazz vision with new audiences – and to reclaim the clubs that have long been a vital part of her craft. With an upcoming album scheduled for release alongside Gilles Peterson and Louie Vega, Bridgewater remains as resolute in her pursuit of artistic freedom as ever.
For this trailblazing artist, age is merely a number; passion and conviction are eternal constants.