Kilgore was here

The year 2026 isn't starting off so well, is it? I just learned that Rebecca Kilgore, a world-class jazz singer who happened to make Portland her home, died on Wednesday. She was 76 years old and had been in declining health the last year and a half or so.

"Becky" was an important keeper of the Great American Songbook, but she also would pick up her guitar and do country swing. She was clear-eyed, down-to-earth, and sharp as a tack. I was blessed to see her perform maybe a half dozen times in various venues around Portland, all of them delightfully small despite her ability to fill much bigger halls. One time I approached her after her show, and I told her how great a performer I thought she was. Such an unprententious soul, she laughed and said something like, "Oh boy, we like you!" Then she went back to packing up her sound system, and headed for her car.

A voice like Kilgore's – so pure and true – will be sorely missed. But fortunately, Edison recorded sound, and we'll always have the glorious tracks she laid down over the years. That and memories of a person who kept it real despite an enormous talent and a life under the bright lights.