Vaughan's voice here is pure control—she bends time itself around her phrasing.
By this point in her career, Sarah Vaughan had already proven herself one of jazz's greatest singers, but This Is Jazz, Volume 20 captures her at a moment where technical mastery and emotional depth were completely aligned. Her voice had deepened into a rich, almost contralto range, and she wielded it with surgical precision. Every note feels chosen, never wasted. The band supports her without fussing—they know they're there to frame the painting, not to be the painting.
What makes this collection distinctive is how present Vaughan is on every track. There's no coasting, no phoning it in on the ballads while saving energy for the uptempo numbers. She attacks standards with the kind of creative reharmonization that was becoming her signature—she'll delay a phrase by half a beat, or land on an unexpected note that somehow feels inevitable once you hear it. The swing tunes find her playful and rhythmically loose in a way that younger singers often struggle to achieve without sounding forced. She's swinging because she understands swing at a cellular level, not because she's trying to prove something.
This isn't her absolute peak—that argument belongs to other sessions—but it's an excellent entry point if you want to hear Vaughan when her instrument was in complete working order. She's not yet in her late-period reinvention, but she's also moved well past her early era of proving herself. This is the sweet spot: a singer at the height of her technical powers who still cares deeply about connecting with the material. If you know her only through greatest-hits packages, you're missing the quiet intelligence on display here.