Porter grew up in Bakersfield, California, raised by a mother who was a minister and singer. That church background is everywhere in his music — not in a showy, hand-waving way, but in the way he shapes a phrase, holds a note, and treats a lyric like something worth meaning. His mother died before he found real success, and that loss runs quietly through a lot of his best songs.

He came to jazz sideways, through theater and gospel, and he didn't fit the mold of the cool, understated jazz vocalist. His voice is deep, warm, and direct — baritone with a bit of gravel, and he delivers lines with the conviction of someone who actually believes what he is singing. You hear echoes of Nat King Cole, Donny Hathaway, and Bill Withers in what he does, but he doesn't sound like a tribute act to any of them.

Liquid Spirit (2013) was the album that broke him wide open, winning a Grammy and landing on playlists far outside the usual jazz audience. The title track has that rare quality — it sounds like a jazz song but moves like a pop record, and it did. His follow-up Take Me to the Alley (2016) leaned harder into the soul and gospel elements, which worked for him even if it felt slightly less adventurous. His songwriting is honest enough that even the more polished productions don't feel slick.

He's known for performing almost always in a cap and mask covering much of his face — a look that started for medical reasons related to a skin condition and became, over time, just part of who he is on stage. People ask about it constantly, which probably gets old. The music is the better conversation.

Porter is not really a jazz purist's darling. He sells a lot of records, fills theaters, and wins mainstream awards, which in some circles is held against you. But he can hold his own with serious musicians — his collaborations with Kamasi Washington and work alongside piano players like Chip Crawford show he's not just riding on charm and a great voice. He makes music that people genuinely love, and there's nothing wrong with that.