Biography
Cleo Brown, who assumed the name C. Patra Brown in subsequent decades, produced recordings throughout the 1930s and 1940s before returning to the studio in the late 1980s once she was located again in rural Colorado. Compilation album titles that feature her work place her among polished female performers, lively entertainers, boogie-woogie specialists, playful vocalists, and dynamic piano-playing women; even within that company she distinguished herself through an especially engaging selection of songs. Although numbers devoted to marijuana appear frequently, far fewer tracks celebrate swollen feet, and her “Breakin’ in a New Pair of Shoes” connects directly to Fats Waller, an artist with whom she was often likened; Waller himself had recorded his own foot-themed piece, “Your Feet’s Too Big.” Equally striking is her “When Hollywood Goes Black and Tan,” which honors African American artists working in film.
She grew up in a musically active Mississippi household and began performing in her father’s church while still a child. After the family relocated to Chicago in 1919 she undertook formal piano instruction, and by the early 1920s she was appearing professionally in nightclubs and tent shows while also hosting her own regular radio broadcast. Well established by the early 1930s, she maintained a nearly continuous schedule of work for the next twenty years, playing in cities nationwide and holding regular engagements at venues that included New York’s Three Deuces. Assessments of her abilities differ sharply, yet her skill as a communicator remains undisputed; listeners encountering the intimate tone of “Mama Don’t Want No Peas and Rice and Coconut Oil” or, still more directly, “The Stuff Is Here and It’s Mellow” may even sense a wish for closer acquaintance. The latter song, first recorded for Decca in 1935, secured her place among artists who have documented material about marijuana, resulting in appearances on multiple anthologies devoted to that repertoire.
Her performances divided into two distinct elements—voice and piano. Reactions to the former ranged from descriptions of her as a “female Fats Waller,” offered as clear praise apart from any reference to fashion choices, to characterizations of a “tiny and twee” vocal quality that succeeded solely through force of personality. Her keyboard work, by contrast, received consistent regard; she was ranked with Freddie Slack and Bob Zurke among the leading second-generation boogie-woogie pianists. One critic declared a Cleo Brown performance fit to accompany listeners “to that Desert Island,” while another singled out her contribution to a four-CD collection by calling Cleo Brown “an absolute revelation on ‘Lookie Lookie Lookie (Here Comes Cookie),’ her piano chops easily the equal of her sly vocals.” Traces of earlier boogie-woogie masters appear in her playing, among them Pinetop Smith, whose “Pinetop’s Boogie” she recorded, as well as Albert Ammons, Jimmy Yancey, Joe Sullivan, Clarence Lofton, Pete Johnson, and Meade Lux Lewis. Some jazz commentators have also credited the success of her discs partly to the accomplished sidemen who accompanied her.
By the late 1940s the exuberant subject matter of her songs began to conflict with her deepening religious convictions, rendering performances of conventional blues themes uncomfortable. She withdrew from secular music in 1953 and trained as a nurse, yet soon abandoned that occupation to resume performing, now limited to gospel material. Pianist Marion McPartland, herself a noted player and host of the National Public Radio program Piano Jazz, encountered Brown living quietly in the Denver, CO, area and persuaded her to travel to New York for a broadcast appearance; the session prompted a detailed profile by jazz writer Whitney Balliett that later appeared in his book American Singers. Additional recordings and performances followed, closing a career arc that had moved from songs celebrating marijuana to gospel and back. Dave Brubeck’s “Sweet Cleo Brown,” though perhaps not the tribute hipsters might have preferred, remains an affectionate salute.
She grew up in a musically active Mississippi household and began performing in her father’s church while still a child. After the family relocated to Chicago in 1919 she undertook formal piano instruction, and by the early 1920s she was appearing professionally in nightclubs and tent shows while also hosting her own regular radio broadcast. Well established by the early 1930s, she maintained a nearly continuous schedule of work for the next twenty years, playing in cities nationwide and holding regular engagements at venues that included New York’s Three Deuces. Assessments of her abilities differ sharply, yet her skill as a communicator remains undisputed; listeners encountering the intimate tone of “Mama Don’t Want No Peas and Rice and Coconut Oil” or, still more directly, “The Stuff Is Here and It’s Mellow” may even sense a wish for closer acquaintance. The latter song, first recorded for Decca in 1935, secured her place among artists who have documented material about marijuana, resulting in appearances on multiple anthologies devoted to that repertoire.
Her performances divided into two distinct elements—voice and piano. Reactions to the former ranged from descriptions of her as a “female Fats Waller,” offered as clear praise apart from any reference to fashion choices, to characterizations of a “tiny and twee” vocal quality that succeeded solely through force of personality. Her keyboard work, by contrast, received consistent regard; she was ranked with Freddie Slack and Bob Zurke among the leading second-generation boogie-woogie pianists. One critic declared a Cleo Brown performance fit to accompany listeners “to that Desert Island,” while another singled out her contribution to a four-CD collection by calling Cleo Brown “an absolute revelation on ‘Lookie Lookie Lookie (Here Comes Cookie),’ her piano chops easily the equal of her sly vocals.” Traces of earlier boogie-woogie masters appear in her playing, among them Pinetop Smith, whose “Pinetop’s Boogie” she recorded, as well as Albert Ammons, Jimmy Yancey, Joe Sullivan, Clarence Lofton, Pete Johnson, and Meade Lux Lewis. Some jazz commentators have also credited the success of her discs partly to the accomplished sidemen who accompanied her.
By the late 1940s the exuberant subject matter of her songs began to conflict with her deepening religious convictions, rendering performances of conventional blues themes uncomfortable. She withdrew from secular music in 1953 and trained as a nurse, yet soon abandoned that occupation to resume performing, now limited to gospel material. Pianist Marion McPartland, herself a noted player and host of the National Public Radio program Piano Jazz, encountered Brown living quietly in the Denver, CO, area and persuaded her to travel to New York for a broadcast appearance; the session prompted a detailed profile by jazz writer Whitney Balliett that later appeared in his book American Singers. Additional recordings and performances followed, closing a career arc that had moved from songs celebrating marijuana to gospel and back. Dave Brubeck’s “Sweet Cleo Brown,” though perhaps not the tribute hipsters might have preferred, remains an affectionate salute.
Albums
