Carmen McRae takes on the modern songbook with [Johnny Keating]'s orchestrations lifting her into unfamiliar territory.
By 1967, Carmen McRae was already a veteran—she had spent years establishing herself as a thinking singer, someone who could inhabit a lyric with intelligence and restraint. For Once in My Life (1967) wasn't a debut or a reinvention, but it was a deliberate left turn. Recording in London at Olympic Studios with Johnny Keating arranging and conducting, McRae tackled material from Burt Bacharach, Brian Wilson, the Beatles, and Buffy Sainte-Marie—the sound of contemporary pop and rock filtered through a jazz sensibility and a lush orchestral lens. This was not a return to standards or a soul-jazz crossover. It was McRae meeting the songwriters of the moment on their own ground, but refusing to abandon her own voice in the process.
Keating's arrangements are the spine here. Unlike some orchestral jazz records that smother the singer, these arrangements breathe. They're detailed and sometimes surprising, but they never overshadow McRae's phrasing. She's always the center. The album sits somewhere between her core jazz identity and the commercial pop moment of the late sixties—not quite a crossover bid, not quite a jazz purist statement. It's the sound of an established artist curious enough to try something different, secure enough to make it work.
This isn't essential Carmen McRae. Her classic trio recordings and earlier vocal albums contain deeper work. But For Once in My Life (1967) matters because it shows McRae's range and her willingness to engage with new material seriously. It's a solid album from an artist at the height of her powers, and one that deserves more attention than it usually gets.