Katie Thiroux - Always But Never Alone

(BassKat Music, 2025)

Artwork: Cecile Michaelis

“The music is just bass and voice — recorded live, together. Each track reflects a part of me: mother, wife, performer, me. It’s not all heavy. I find light in the dark. That’s what I do.”
—Katie Thiroux

With Always but never Along, bassist/vocalist/composer/educator marks her tenth year as a recording artist. The Los Angeles native, Berklee-educated artist debuted with 2015’s Introducing Katie Thiroux (BassKat), a well-received collection of sturdy jazz standards sung in her equally sturdy contralto voice, warm, rich, and resonant. Her vocals recall those of Anita O'Day and Carmen McRae. Thiroux followed her debut with Off Beat (BassKat, 2018) and then The Stakes Are High (BassKat, 2021).

Many things may serve as the ignition of the creative process. With Thiroux, it was giving birth to her child, one with special needs. For the singer, this experience was defining and transforming. What results here are 14 voice/bass duets, recorded in a single three-hour recording session, one after the other. This performing format is not unheard of; consider the very fine Bull Fonda Duo: Cup of Joe, No Bull (Corn Hill Indie, 2005) as an example. That said, there have been no voice/bass duets recorded with the voice and bass being provided by the same person. And, for certain, none that is so nakedly personal.

This recording needed to be made, and Thiroux needed to make it. There is an implied urgency that never manifests in any tangible way. Thiroux performs this thoughtfully chosen recital with courage and a sunny sense of humor. Thiroux’s performance of Tadd Dameron’s “If You Could See Me Now” reveals something like fragility, but it is fragility tempered with determination. This is the song that would begin the cascade of the rest of the songs. The Irving Berlin/Al Jolson composition, “Me and My Shadow” is an inspired inclusion, with Thiroux singing laconically, swinging in that Ray Brown-influenced way for which Thiroux has become known.

Another inspired selection is “Treat Me Rough” from George and Ira Gershwin’s 1930 musical Girl Crazy. Thiroux tosses it off like Lord Byron composing verse, with aplomb and grace—just another day at the office. Thiroux waxes impressionistic with an instrumental treatment of “In The Wee Small Hours” delivered as if in a dream upon waking. It is a suggestion rather than a statement. Thiroux directs the listener to listen to this album in a single sitting. One can easily do this, and the experience is almost stream-of-consciousness. The music is naked, sometimes confusing, but always spot on in conveying the myriad of emotions, moods, and challenges Thiroux feels in her real-life position of motherhood, musicianship, and the arbiter of often conflicted feelings.

As much as Thiroux needed to make this recording, we needed it made to show us our humanity. This is a tender grace given to us.