A Quote by Dianne Reeves

I've always had really wonderful people around me. But early on, I remember I would walk into a session or go do something with some musicians, and they viewed me, basically, as their chick singer.
When I was a kid. I never really had luck with the ladies my early years in high school. Then I started singing and I found that helped, so I would go in the talent show every year. It was always some female singer that would go up there and blast out some Celine Dion classic and just blow me away.
My wife Sarra was instrumental to my success. When I was training, she took care of everything. She would make me dinner and always understood when I had to go to bed early or couldn't walk around the shops.
I think at some point [Big Pun] really wanted to be a singer as well. He would call me at 3 or 4 in the morning and say "Yo Twin, sing something for me!". That's the type of love Big Pun had for me. He had this faith and belief and he expressed it many times. It was overwhelming for me. I think that he honestly believed I was going to make a difference in the game.
A lot of rappers don't have to go through what I had to go through as a singer. I was always in a bubble that they put me in, but I was always punching out. It was a tough line to walk.
People know my lyrics; they know the stuff I've written, and it's all about life, love, happiness, and these big euphoric moments. It would always bug me when I'd go to a club, and they're playing some chick on a stripper pole on the monitor behind me. I'm like, 'So that's not what I do - that's the other guy.'
I went to school in drag, in art school and my day was completely different because everybody thought I was a chick. You should see me as a chick. So I went as a girl, as like an experiment and it worked really well and everyone was really nice to me but I couldn't talk obviously... you know train conductors were really cool to me on my commute... HA! I looked hot as a chick!
A young lady had only one complaint about her good husband: "My husband always praises me to other people," she said, "Often I hear from friends the wonderful things he has said about me. But I miss something, because he never gets around to saying these some things to me, to my face."
I learned early that crying out in protest could accomplish things. My older brothers and sister had started to school when, sometimes, they would come in and ask for a buttered biscuit or something and my mother, impatiently, would tell them no. But I would cry out and make a fuss until I got what I wanted. I remember well how my mother asked me why I couldn't be a nice boy like Wilfred; but I would think to myself that Wilfred, for being so nice and quiet, often stayed hungry. So early in life, I had learned that if you want something, you had better make some noise.
I saw so many amazing musicians struggling to build something good. They would play and play... and play some more, but it seemed like there was something missing. I wanted to go someplace higher myself, and go there with the people who come to hear me play. So I began to envision events with their own gravity, that would pull a community of people together for a meaningful experience.
It would be a wonderful experience to stand there in those enchanted surroundings and hear Shakespeare and Milton and Bunyan read from their noble works. And it might be that they would like to hear me read some of my things. No, it could never be; they would not care for me. They would not know me, they would not understand me, and they would say they had an engagement. But if I could only be there, and walk about and look, and listen, I should be satisfied and not make a noise. My life is fading to its close, and someday I shall know.
I definitely at times notice a difference in service when I go out. You know, I can walk in to grab a cup of coffee or walk in to have lunch or dinner, and people definitely seem on their best behavior, which is funny, or I start to see people clean up around me, which I always find really, really amusing.
It always offended me when I was in the studio and the engineer or the assumed producer for the session would start bossing the band around. That always seemed like a horrible insult to me.
We grew up with musicians coming over jamming. We had tons of instruments. So holidays were always like, 50 people would come over, and there would be a jam session with everyone playing jazz.
I'd never met a woman I considered as intelligent as me. That sounds bigheaded, but every woman I met was either a dolly-chick, or a sort of screwed-up intellectual chick. And of course, in the field I was in, I didn't meet many intellectual people anyway. I always had this dream of meeting an artist, an artist girl who would be like me. And I thought it was a myth, but then I met Yoko and that was it.
You start to stress yourself out about the people around you. You start to think, like, "What do you really want from me?" And then you forget that you, at some point, asked them for something. At some point you needed them to take you in because you ain't had nowhere to go. And now you turn around and question their loyalty to you, and those were the only people loyal to you. The only people that really loved you are still there, and you tanked on them. I'll never let that happen.
I remember my father used to wake up at 4 A.M. He woke me up as well. We would leave home together, he was going to work and I continued my walk to catch the bus. I had my training session with Sao Paulo in the morning. I had to take two buses to the point I could take the club bus.
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