Finding Eva

By Gregory Smith

I discovered Eva just before the holidays. The all- Christmas radio station in Philadelphia played her song “It’s Not the Presents Under the Tree (It’s Your Presence Here with Me)”, and I took immediate notice. Something about her soulful, pure voice got to me, much like the first time I heard the great Whitney Houston.

Her name was Eva Cassidy (no relation to David). This girl could sing anything! Blues, soul, country, jazz, pop -you name it. Her diversity made her unique, but it also ultimately limited her fame, as we will see.

Her voice was as clear as a mountain stream: a gentle, delicate soprano, especially soft and effortless while singing a tender ballad like “Time After Time”. Eva’s range was limitless, soaring when she belted out gospel or soul, like a young Aretha Franklin. She could easily scat jazz riffs, as though she were channeling Ella Fitzgerald, on classics like “It Don’t Mean a Thing”. Or one could swear she was the reincarnation of Patsy Cline when she crooned something in the country gender, such as “Penny to My Name.” She could sing pop, and make any song seem like her own, such as Sting’s “Fields of Gold,” or sound folky on a song like “Woodstock.” Her voice was like a fine-tuned instrument and her mastery over her own personal instrument was unlike any other.

 She was Janis Joplin- Whitney- Ella- Patsy and Aretha, all rolled into one. And yet she was unique.

I made my own playlist of Eva Cassidy songs, listening to her every chance I got in the car, at work, or relaxing with a cold one on my back deck. Her voice had a soothing, healing effect on my body and soul. After a long day of battling the system, I looked forward to relaxing at home every night, putting on headphones and soaking up her music. Listening to her angelic voice was like heaven.

 How did I not know about her before? By the time I found Eva, she had been gone nearly thirty years. It was hard to believe that this pristine voice, once so full of life, sang no more.

Then I ordered her biography. I hungered for more music but I also wanted more information about the young lady herself. What I found hooked me even more, and I became a full-fledged fan.

Eva was described as sweet, quiet and painfully shy. She never thought she was good enough, overly self-critical, even though she was brilliant as a singer, guitarist and arranger. I could relate to her feelings of inadequacy.  Her insecurity made her even more enduring to me. She loved nature, art and animals.  I had a feeling if we had ever met, we would’ve hit it off. Here I was, falling in love with a ghost.

 Then one night it began. I had a most vivid, intense dream of Eva. I found myself in a sports bar in Annapolis, Maryland of all places. Nothing told me that this was Annapolis…I just knew. Pool tables, video games and pinball machines were scattered here and there around me. The smoky atmosphere was filled with college-age young people, many clutching beer bottles. The noise and laughter almost drowned out the music tucked away in one corner of the establishment.

 I heard this silky-smooth voice, an old soul singing old songs, songs like “You Don’t Know Me” and “Blue Skies.” There she was, alone on a small stage, this petite, beautiful, blond-blue-eyed, 30-some woman, singing the blues, a dash of folk and a sprinkling of country, accompanied only by an acoustic guitar.  I sat well-off to the left of the stage at a small, round table, mesmerized by what I heard.

 Her pitch was perfect. Her phrasing was impeccable. When she needed to belt it out, her voice would erupt with a mighty torrent of power. Her vibrato, her pronunciation, her playfulness with lyrics in unexpected ways made each old standard sound brand new in her interpretation.

 I learned that she had had no formal singing lessons or voice-training. Instinctively, she knew about vibrato and her voice register and the proper techniques of singing, such as how to properly breathe. She was the true definition of a natural.

She just knew.

By the end of the evening, I could tell she was a little frustrated with the setting and those who weren’t really listening. This wasn’t the quiet, intimate setting she preferred, but it was a paycheck and another venue on her resume, another learning experience in her early musical career. There were a group of her boosters sitting close to the stage, applauding enthusiastically after each song.

One thing I noticed was how she rarely made eye contact with the audience. Her head was always lowered, her in- between-song banter was practically non-existent, other than a polite “thank you” after each tune. She performed one great song after another, all covers. Familiarity with her songs, knowing the lyrics, made her renditions seem so comfortable for her listeners to hear, even songs going back to the forties, which sounded fresh in her capable hands. The excitement was in not knowing how she would make each melody or word different in her own way. With Eva, there was always an astounding surprise to each tune.

When the time was right, and she had finished her setlist and thanked the few who were kind enough to truly listen, I approached the stage. She was putting her guitar away when I said hello to Eva Cassidy.

“Don’t be discouraged,” I said. “Someday you are going to make it big.”

She looked at me expressionless with her pretty blue eyes. She was about to say something when I awoke.

***

The next morning, I told everyone at work about this new voice I had found. “Have you heard her? Her name is Eva Cassidy. You should really give her a listen.” Knowing what a great music fan I was, they accepted my suggestion, a few telling me later how they had checked out Eva and loved her. This sort of instant reaction was happening whenever Eva’s music was played to a newcomer. “Amazing!” or” The greatest singer ever!” or” I’m speechless!” were a few of the most common comments.

 I was making a grass-roots, word of mouth recommendation, one person at a time. I called local radio stations, asking if they could play her music. Country stations. Jazz stations. Pop stations. Rhythm & Blues stations. Most had never heard of her.

Instead of record companies fighting over who would have the distinct honor of signing her to a recording contract, they inexplicably shunned her. All agreed that she had a one-in-a-million voice, but her uniqueness made it hard to categorize her. They wanted to pigeon-hole her. “What’s it going to be, Miss Cassidy? How will we promote you? Do you sing jazz? Or the blues? It’s not possible to be able to sing any genre. Pick one and stick to that particular style, Miss Cassidy.”

To her credit, Eva resisted. She could’ve taken the easy way out. From what I learned, fame and fortune weren’t important to Eva. She wasn’t interested in tours, signing autographs or doing interviews. Being heard meant the world to her.

To her credit, she held firm in her belief in her own abilities. The record companies needed to think out of the box with Eva. Not that she was a diva or made demands. Simply put, Eva Cassidy didn’t want to be boxed into committing to one type of music.

In time, she began showing a desire to sing more folk music, soft, acoustic guitar interpretations of iconic artists like James Taylor, Buffy Sainte-Marie, Paul Simon and Gordon Lightfoot, singing songs with pretty, imaginative melodies and intelligent, thoughtful lyrics. Nothing against Mariah Carey or Whitney Houston, but they mostly sang pop, a gender she shied away from. She picked songs that she wanted to sing, songs that came from her heart, songs she connected with, songs she felt from her heart, not merely songs on a pop chart or songs a record producer suggested she sing.  

The next night, after falling asleep to Eva’s “Eva by Heart” album, the one that introduced Eva to the unsuspecting world after her untimely death, I dreamed about her again. This time I found myself in a dark coffee club. The crowd was sparse but thrilled to hear this local angel sing again. This time the audience was made up of mostly real Eva diehards, loyal fans who knew her music from several years before when she had started singing around the Washington, D.C. suburbs and in the Maryland-Virginia area, where she was somewhat known.

“This girl has got the goods!” one gentleman said to a newcomer before the show. “Just wait until you hear her. Why, she could sing the phone book if she had to.”

This time, away from the noisy bar atmosphere, before an eager, vocal, and attentive crowd of supporters, Eva gave the performance of her young career. People literally cried, even men, when she sang “Over the Rainbow” and “Autumn Leaves,” two old standards. Eva had a way of making any old song sound fresh, like it was her own. Arranging songs as though you never heard them before was only part of her brilliance.

As before in Annapolis, watching Eva sing live completely enthralled me. She sang beautiful acoustic versions of “Imagine” and “Bridge Over Trouble Water.” She did sultry, up-tempo songs like “Fever” with her excellent band. She did unknown tunes like “You Take My Breath Away.”

 She was just tremendous.

 I had heard this magical voice on tape and I had even seen a grainy black and white video on the internet, recorded by a 1995 camcorder. But to actually be there, to take in her entire performance, was the chance of a lifetime.

After her set was over, I attempted to approach the stage to congratulate her and tell her what her voice meant to me. I wanted to tell her, in more detail, what her music would mean to so many in the future.

Several years after her passing, disc jockeys in England were given tapes of her songs by friends. They played Eva’s music on the air and were bombarded by positive reaction.  Her personal story, especially her tragic ending, was not revealed until later. Her voice and her unique interpretation of the music she sang touched people.

Eva’s album, “Songbird”, would go on to sell over 10 million records in Great Britain and in Europe. America was still catching up. Paul McCartney was a huge fan after hearing her rendition of “Yesterday.” Sting called her voice “magical” when he got a copy of Eva’s performance of “Fields of Gold.” He said it was the finest rendition of one of his songs that he had ever heard.

The thought crossed my mind as I approached, why didn’t more people know Eva? How many Eva Cassidys went unknown in the world?

Before I could talk to her, I ran into a wall of people with the same idea. By the time the crowd thinned and I could make my way to the front of the stage, she was gone. I stood there all alone in the empty room. That’s when I abruptly woke up, an entire evening of concert boiling down to only a brief time in a fleeting dream.

I was determined to talk to her. I would find the courage to say more than a few words. Maybe I would even warn her. Eva, please take care of yourself. Wear sun-screen while you work or when you are out in nature. Maybe there was still a chance to protect her body from the deadly melanoma, the cancer which would ultimately take her young life.

I thought about my intense dreams, how real they felt. Eva’s crystal-clear voice, the dimly-lit room, the aroma of smoke filling my senses. I was actually there.  I could actually hear her sing. I could smell the smoke. Was it possible that I wasn’t dreaming after all? Was it possible that I was a time-traveler, returning to 1995 to witness first-hand this unknown angel?

***

To my disappointment, I failed to dream of Eva after that. No matter how hard I tried, no matter how frequently I listened to Eva’s music, she no longer appeared in my dreams. Night after night, I grew despondent. It was almost as if I needed some sort of closure.

One of her most hauntingly beautiful songs was called “I Know You by Heart,” a song about a deep love for someone who is gone, a connection so intense it goes beyond a physical presence. It’s about how you can still “know” someone even as you lose them, finding that their essence remains. It’s about feeling their spirit, experiencing a spiritual bond, a bond which transcends physical boundaries. It’s about carrying someone in your heart, an everlasting love which death nor separation can ever extinguish.

I never heard a more beautiful piece of music until I heard Eva’s version of “I Know You by Heart.” A lost loved one need not be physically present to experience their nearness. You could see their beauty in the autumn leaves, or hear their laughter in the summer breeze, or sense their undying hope in springtime flowers. Because you knew them by heart.

It was months later when Eva unexpectedly entered my dreams one last time. I found myself among those packed into a crowded club near Washington called The Bayou. I learned from posters that I was attending a benefit concert for Eva. Her parents had brought her to the event and I was so saddened to see how much weight she had lost since the last dream. She used a walker and wore a hat because she had lost her hair from chemotherapy treatments. She smiled the entire time, as local artists played for her. It had to lift her spirits to see the love and respect shown from those who truly loved her.

When Eva’s band was scheduled to play last that evening, somehow Eva herself made her way to the stage. No one knew what was going to happen. She was so weak that she had to be helped onto a stool. She hadn’t played guitar in months. She joked about that, as well as the high levels of morphine she was taking for pain. And then she sang, singing her heart out, her final public performance. She sang “What a Wonderful World.” There wasn’t a dry eye in the house.

There was no bitterness, no anger in her tone that night. To be thirty-three, knowing that your cancer was terminal, to be terribly sick just when your personal and professional life was finally coming together, who could blame her if she was angry. But she wasn’t. Remarkably, Eva smiled the entire evening, appreciating the love and support from so many.

 In a few weeks Eva would be gone. I hoped to dream of her once more. I just knew that my dreams of Eva would cease after her passing, even though, in reality, my dreams were occurring nearly thirty years after her passing.

As I witnessed this scene, I shed tears as I did in my sleep, for when I woke up on a tear-stained pillow, I knew that Eva was at peace.

 I had my closure.

I could only imagine her potential and the possibilities if she had lived. More music, perhaps world tours, concerts and television appearances were on her horizon. Eva never experienced smart phones or social media. The internet and personal computers were in their infancy when she was alive. Imagine the exposure she would’ve gotten now, compared to thirty years ago. Eva would’ve certainly worked with the best producers, the best songwriters and the best musicians in the music industry. Her voice and guitar-playing got much better in such a short time. As much as she practiced and dedicated herself to music, especially if she had made music her full-time profession, the possibilities were endless.

That’s the shame of her young demise. She had so much of life to live. She never did experience how much the outside world loved her.

Cancer sucks. But cancer did not get the last word. Eva’s voice proved to be immortal.

***

I never did get to chat with Eva, never had a chance to tell her how her music would be a source of joy and comfort for millions, how her fame would grow, literally day by day; how a documentary about her life would be filmed; and how countless fans- much like myself- were “finding” her every day.

Eva lived-out her own destiny, as we all will. She didn’t need a “warning” from the future. And maybe that’s why I never did succeed in speaking to Eva. Time preferred to be left alone. Some things were just meant to be.

Eva left a tremendous legacy. New, “unknown” singers and musicians had to live up to a certain standard with record executives. All they needed to do was compare voices to the great Eva Cassidy. Her voice and technique were studied and taught in music schools. Don’t copy her style because Eva can never be truly duplicated. Be unique, be original but learn from Eva Cassidy.

Record executives may want to be to be more cautious with their assessment of a singer’s potential. Maybe Eva taught them an unforgettable lesson: when someone extraordinary appears out of the blue, someone touched by God, someone who has “IT”, be wise enough to recognize the greatness before you.

It’s been estimated that only about 10% of Americans know of Eva Cassidy. There’s so much room for her fame to grow in America, similar to her fame in Great Britain and other parts of the world. Just as I discovered her brilliance, others will too, and she will touch their lives as she did mine…and they will never be the same again.

Every day I wait for surprising news that an undiscovered shoebox full of homemade cassette tapes secretly recorded by Eva have been found. With the help of AI, even the faintest of recordings can now be isolated and brought to life. But even as my prayers for new Eva Cassidy music go unanswered, I remain eternally grateful for what we do have, knowing we may never have heard of her angelic voice. We are blessed.

 No one will ever be like Eva. She was one of a kind. She was this amazing shooting star which flashed across our skies, brilliant and bright, before disappearing beyond the horizon, dazzling for the briefest of moments, incandescent for eternity.

Gregory Smith is a retired medical social worker. He is the author of 38 short stories, 26 of which have been or will be published. His uplifting memoir, titled Stronger Than Bone, was just published by Compassiviste Publishing. Greg is active on social media, including Facebook, X, Blue Sky, Instagram and TikTok. He enjoys reading, watching sports and classic movies and listening to oldies music in his free time.