Finding your voice in a world of polished perfection
On a recent trip to Melbourne, I sat in the audience at the Melbourne International Jazz Festival, completely transported. Gregory Porter’s rich baritone filled the room and reminded me why live jazz matters in 2025. As he commenced with one of my favourite tunes of his “Painted on Canvas” that was weaved into my cabaret show “Hear My Voice”, I knew I was where I needed to be.
I was so excited to be there as it was the very first time I had been lucky enough to see him perform live and I made the trip especially to see him and Samara Joy, another US jazz singer with a voice that sounds like it comes from the days of Ella and Sarah.
But here’s what struck me most that Friday night in Hamer Hall. It wasn’t just his technical brilliance. That was obvious with every note. I actually would have thought it had been recorded in a studio if I had not witnessed it live, as technically it was flawless. For me though, It was his absolute commitment to authenticity and to his message in addition to his desire to connect with the large audience that really drew me in.
In a world where AI can now generate songs and auto-tune erases every wobble, Gregory reminded me that music’s true power lies in its humanity—the breath before a phrase, the slight rasp of emotion, the way a voice can crack open your heart precisely because it’s real. The shared experience of life and how music expresses what we sometimes can’t express in mere word is nothing short of remarkable..
And real it was ,for the entire 2 hours that I will never forget. It was one of those moments in life when you pinch yourself, knowing that it can’t get any better than this.
While being moved and included in a way I’ve rarely seen in such a big hall, it made me think about you, my audience and listeners.
What many music lovers are really searching for
If you’re reading this, chances are you’re tired of generic entertainment. You’ve sat through performances that felt more like background music than genuine connection. You’ve scrolled past countless promoted artists who sound polished but leave you feeling… nothing.
You’re searching for something that moves you. Something authentic. Something that reminds you why you fell in love with live music in the first place.
The problem isn’t that great music doesn’t exist any more. It’s that in the noise of heavily promoted mainstream offerings, the truly distinctive voices—the ones that challenge conventions and offer genuine emotional depth—often go undiscovered.
And that’s a loss for all of us.
The Melbourne revelation: When presence becomes magic
Watching Gregory Porter command the stage, I witnessed something that can’t be taught in any masterclass. From the very first note, his presence was magnetic, confident and open. What fascinated me though was how he kept surprising us with his music and heart as the concert progressed This culminated in an encore of “It’s Probably Me” that he famously performed for Sting, another favourite artist of mine, that left the entire audience in awe.
Porter didn’t try to sound like anyone else. His voice, that deep, warm instrument described by critics as “equal parts gravel and velvet” has become iconic precisely because it’s distinctively his. He wore his signature headgear and moved with a gently commanding but reassuring stage presence.
But what truly set the evening apart was the seamless synergy between Porter and his exceptional band. It reminded me of the musical collaborations in my life, such as what I have with Ed Heddle, my pianist of 10 years, when you become so familiar with working with particular musicians that it feels so comfortable and trusting. You end up getting right into their solos and their ability to bounce off your vocals, to a point that sometimes you almost forget that you need to come in with the next verse!
Each musician in Gregory’s band possessed the talent to shine as a solo jazz performer, yet they chose instead to blend harmoniously, creating a sound that was both cohesive and electrifying. Porter, ever the generous bandleader, gave each artist space to express their unique voice, the double bass player didn’t stop smiling for the entire gig, the Hammond organ was transcendent, and when the saxophonist bounced off with Porter, you could feel the entire room lean in.
The anatomy of connection
What struck me most was how Porter peppered his performance with humorous asides balanced beautifully with philosophical rumination and reflections, such as the impact of his family on his writing and memories. At one point, he referenced how it’s important to raise your voice in support of those suffering. This balance of levity and depth created a performance that resonated on multiple levels. In a chaotic world right now we were invited to remember what was most important and to feel in that moment that nothing mattered more than our connection to others and what the music allowed us to feel.
This was not a performer that needed to be noticed every moment, who was there for his own ego and need for applause, but a grounded, down to earth intelligent human, who was sharing some of what had captured him in his life through music. Every one of his influences was on display – his gospel and blues roots seamlessly blending with jazz and soul to give an astonishing musical feast and his life experience peppered in the lyrics proving that watching someone be themselves fully and allowing us in is one of the most incredible experiences we can witness as humans.
The audience was captivated throughout—smiling, clapping, fully immersed in the music. There was a palpable sense of joy and connection in the room, a shared experience that transcended words. One woman near me had tears streaming down her face during “Take Me to the Alley.” A couple next to me held hands throughout and embraced, occasionally closing their eyes as if to better absorb the sound.
This is what happens when artists dare to be fully themselves on stage—they give audiences permission to feel deeply and connect authentically.
Porter’s setlist moved effortlessly between his beloved originals and reimagined classics. He conjured Nat King Cole’s ghost one moment (Porter has spoken movingly about how Cole served as a replacement father figure in his life), led his band through a steam-train version of “Papa Was a Rollin’ Stone” the next, and closed with a gorgeous broadside against sonic inauthenticity in “Musical Genocide”—his love letter to authentic blues, gospel, and soul music.
The gospel roots that ground greatness
What gives Porter’s voice such authentic emotional weight is his solid and broad foundation. Raised by a minister mother in Bakersfield, California, as one of eight siblings, Porter learned to sing in what he calls the “dusty-board churches” of his childhood. His influences, Donny Hathaway, Nat King Cole, Bill Withers all share that similar gospel culture.
Most tellingly, Porter has said: “When I first started listening to jazz, I understood the feeling. I would listen to the great saxophone players, and I would hear the voices of my grandmother, my mother, and my grandfather, stylistically.”
This connection between gospel and jazz is what allows Porter to sidestep vocal histrionics and instead convey soulfulness through authentic emotion. His power doesn’t come from showing off. It comes from truth telling.
And it was his mother who gave him the ultimate permission. On her deathbed, she told him: “Gregory, singing is one of the best things you do, so don’t forget about that. Sing, baby, and let your hair down.” Interestingly he started late in life, having worked as a professional chef where he used to sing in the kitchen!
His mother’s statement gave him permission to fully embrace his musical calling and authentic voice.
Sitting in that Melbourne audience, I felt the full weight of what that permission meant—not just for Porter, but for all of us who’ve struggled to embrace our distinctive voices.
The journey home: What this means for my performance
I’ve spent years learning the same lesson Porter embodies so completely: your greatest strength often lies in what makes you different, not in how well you can conform.
My own path from being an alto in large and small chamber choirs to jazz, blues, and ultimately cabaret where my desire to connect intimately and authentically is honoured, has been marked by moments of both doubt and ultimately triumph.
There were years when my deep vocal range felt like something to apologise for, when well meaning voice teachers suggested I try to lighten my sound or contain my vibrato. I wondered if there was a place for a voice like mine in the contemporary music landscape.
Working in Kenny’s Cardiology, a card shop as a calligrapher with the hits of the 20’s, 30’s and 40’s as the background music, helped me feel seen, helped me see that my voice was something that could have a place. I was increasingly drawn to jazz, blues, soul and gospel artists as I could sing along easily and I felt something profound and familiar. It was almost like I found my voice through the music and years later after much struggle, accepted the invitation to move to a place of truly embracing i. in all it’s uniqueness and points of difference.
Watching Porter own his booming baritone with such conviction, seeing audiences respond with devotion, tears and standing ovations, reminded me viscerally why I made the choices I did. You see I have resisted performing songs that don’t resonate with me emotionally or lyrically in some way. It was a pact I made with myself very early as a performer in bands.
I discovered quickly that doing anything different didn’t allow me to feel authentic, didn’t allow me to use my voice in a way that felt natural and ultimately left me feeling empty. So I took myself on a journey to take charge of things myself, to not pander anymore to other’s desires in the same way and to ultimately make my own choices. I wanted to be remembered for the right reasons and I never wanted to be one of those performers going through the motions, performing songs just for money that they were absolutely fed up with and losing the joy of music and performing in the process.
I’ve also resisted songs that are all about impressing others through vocal gymnastics as the music that has always resonated is from artists who have truly been themselves and have expressed this clearly. My experience as a listener has been seeing my favourite performers at one with their instrument and sense of self, where they are at some level a vehicle for expression and connection, In this state their voice has the power to cross barriers, to move, to bring joy, to feel something and to provoke a conversation.
The audience member who described Porter’s show as “100 minutes of therapy, soul satisfaction”? I understand completely. When you witness an artist fully inhabiting their authentic voice, it gives you permission to do the same in your own life. When you see someone embrace what makes them different—whether it’s a distinctively deep voice, an unconventional interpretation, or a willingness to be vulnerable on stage—it challenges you to stop hiding your own uniqueness.
Porter’s generous approach to his band also struck a chord. The way he steps back during instrumental passages, giving each musician space to shine whilst creating something cohesive together—that’s the model Ed Heddle and I strive for in our collaborations. It’s not about ego; it’s about creating a musical conversation where every voice matters. It’s not about the singer always being the focus and just being accompanied so that they shine, but both singer and pianist respecting each other’s contribution and musicianship to allow that connection to be felt by others.
The influence on my approach
Melbourne reinforced something I’d been feeling but hadn’t fully articulated: the most powerful performances aren’t about perfection and technical prowess only—they’re about presence, authenticity, and genuine connection.
In my upcoming performances, I’m embracing this even more deeply. Instead of trying to make my voice fit expectations, I’m leaning into what makes it distinctive. Instead of apologising for the depth, I’m celebrating all of it.. Instead of smoothing out every rough edge, I’m allowing the humanity to shine through—the breath, the emotion, the imperfections that make music move us.
I’m taking Porter’s lesson about storytelling as a sign that the direction I am following is right for me as an artist. He peppers his sets with personal anecdotes and philosophical reflections that give context to the music. His songs aren’t just technical showcases; they’re invitations into his life, his struggles, his mother’s wisdom, his journey from football player to chef to jazz vocalist.
So I’m weaving more of my own story and the stories of artists into performances—the journey of discovering and embracing my authentic voice, the challenges and triumphs, the artists who inspired me, and the audiences who’ve given me the courage to keep going.
Most importantly, the Melbourne International Jazz Festival reminded me that there’s an audience hungry for authentic artistic expression. The venues were packed. People leaned forward in their seats. They sang along, swayed, cried, cheered and clapped on the two and four – how delightful and reassuringl!. Gregory commented on how much rhythm there was in that audience. They didn’t want polished perfection—they wanted real, human, emotionally resonant music.
And that’s exactly what I’m committed to delivering.
What this means for you
In a world of mass-produced entertainment, we all deserve to discover artists who move us, inspire us, and help us feel more deeply connected to the human experience.
Whether it’s Gregory Porter selling out the Royal Albert Hall or Hamer Hall in Melbourne, Samara Joy bringing fresh energy to classic jazz traditions, or intimate performances in Adelaide venues where distinctive voices challenge expectations—what matters is the commitment to authenticity.
Life is too short for average entertainment. The world is too strange and unpredictable right now to not need more doses of authentic expression that remind us about how we are connected. Porter reminded me of the value of authentic expression and the gratitude we must feel to be allowed to use our voices, in a world where many can’t. You deserve to discover the voices that have the power to move you.
The Melbourne International Jazz Festival reminded me why this work matters. It reinforced my commitment to bringing that same level of authentic, emotionally resonant performance to Adelaide audiences who appreciate artistry that goes beyond the surface.
Because genuine artistic expression deserves to be heard, especially when it challenges conventional expectations.
And because sometimes, the voices that move us most deeply are the ones that remind us to embrace our own authentic selves—in music and in life.
Our next performance is at Ginger’s Vintage Lounge Bar, creating the perfect atmosphere for this kind of musical expression and a night to remember (Dinner and Show). If you are curious, we would love to see you there.
Alexandra Frost