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I drove through a raging thunderstorm, a torrent of hail and the threat of flood to hear Megan Birdsall sing.

But she herself went through much worse just to find her voice again.

As I waded along Shawnee Mission Parkway at fifteen miles an hour, Birdsall was beginning her recurring last Wednesday of the month performance at Jardine's.

By now, the trials and triumphs of Kansas City's own little jazz bird have been widely discussed: an artist who'd always relied on her voice suddenly found her instrument and her very life threatened by her own decaying jaw and collapsing throat.

Thankfully, disaster was averted and now, about a year and a half after her surgery, Birdsall has not only recovered but is on the cusp of taking her career in a whole new direction.

I arrived at the club and was surprised to see that, despite the weather, the room was nearly full.  The players-Paul Smith at the piano, Bob Bowman on upright bass and Tim Cambron on the skins-were crisp and tight.

Birdsall herself was in great form.  Her voice was rich and honey-toned, her stage demeanor, warm, personable and a little quirky.  She wore a long turquoise beaded necklace, a black spaghetti-strap tank top and dark jeans and held herself with casual ease-more playful pal than alluring siren.

Her "aw, shucks" shoulder shrugs and easy smile lent a lightheartedness to "I Get a Kick Out of You" while her control and dexterity showed on "Somewhere over the Rainbow," which she took from lullaby to torch song.

The most apropos interpretation of the evening was a sleepy-eyed, rainy night embrace of "Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered" that received additional percussion from the raindrops of the receding storm outside.

Next to me, an audience member leaned onto the bar and lamented that there wasn't more room in the club.  "This is the perfect music for dancing," she purred.

Birdsall gave the audience a reason to lift their heels and swing their hips.  She even gave a couple new to the area tips on the best jazz rooms in the city.  It seemed like everyone who braved the weather was rewarded for their trouble.

The next day, I met her for coffee.

She sat outside in a Wonder Woman tank top, wearing heart-shaped shades, looking unbothered by the heat.  A matching Wonder Woman canvas bag sat at her feet.  Soon we were joking about the tattoos on her wrists being indestructible superhero bracelets and her hair a coiled-up, hidden lasso of truth.

Birdsall's playful sense of humor has been cultivated since birth.  She was raised by adults who love to play: her father, actor Jim Birdsall, was an early member of the Missouri Rep.  Her father's fellow actors, Mark Robbins and Gary Neal Johnson and others, served as uncles.

She grew up doing what she was surrounded by: dance, theatre, music. As for her eventual path, she said, "I always loved to sing jazz.  I had this huge canon of music that I knew.  When you're young, I don't think people plan to be jazz singers.  But I just knew I wanted to sing those songs."

The love of those songs led Birdsall to gigs all over the metro area at places such as Jardine's, the Blue Room, the Phoenix Bar and Grill, Harling's, BB's Lawnside BBQ, the Drum Room and many more.

But her health issues forced her into a frustrating hiatus.  By the time she returned, the landscape had changed drastically.  Many clubs had undergone budget cutbacks or had closed altogether.

"The classical and jazz community is always hit the hardest." She seems both proud and frustrated that jazz is taken for granted.  "No one really gets concerned about it.  Because their attitude is always, 'jazz will always come back.'"

It's this resiliency that compelled her to come back a mere five months after her surgery.  It was too soon.  The doctors forced her to pull back.  But it was too late.  The creative wheels were already set in motion.

"I sang three times a week for three years, now they've cut my face off.  I didn't know what to do."  What Birdsall did do was begin writing new songs immediately while still recuperating in Dallas. The foundation for a new album was recorded in her living room, her mouth still harnessed in surgical braces.

Her aspirations had always been to be a musician, not just a singer.  And reconnecting with those desires led to an unexpected place outside of jazz.

She describes her new record, "Over the Bones," as Wilco by the way of Shelby Lynne with a little Will Oldham a.k.a. Bonnie "Prince" Billy thrown in as well.

Megan Birdsall, alt-country?

Yes, sort of.  The nom de plume for this project will officially be MBIRD, leaving Megan Birdsall proper to the jazz community.

She and her songwriting partner, boyfriend and local actor Michael Andrew Smith, tapped into her North Dakota family roots and her memories of playing in wheat seed and on combines.

She had a cadre of top-notch Nashville players at her disposal and a rhythm section culled from Kansas City friends such as Jake Blanton, Jeff Harshbarger, Mark Lowrey and Tim Cambron.

"We begin mastering the new album on the 10th.  Do you want to hear it?"

She plays me the first track.  Wheat and whirls and whiskey permeate the music.  Birdsall's vocals, harmony layered upon harmony, are perfectly suited for the genre.  It makes complete sense.

She's taken up residency in both Nashville and Kansas City, spending the first two weeks of the month in Tennessee and the latter two here.

She doesn't plan to leave her roots though.  In fact, she intends to follow this album up with another jazz record before year's end.  And her scheduling is strategic.  She chose to stay in Kansas City the last two weeks of each month in large part because of her Jardine's gig.

"No matter what, I'll always come back to this.  I love this job!"  She means Jardine's.  She means jazz.  She means Kansas City.  She speaks with conviction.  "They love music.  They love to dance. They love to get out and get fucked up.  Kansas City is unique.  Its art matches the face of this town.  I don't know yet about Nashville.  But I do know about Kansas City."

I reflect upon the night before.  Birdsall told me a cautionary tale about a jazz musician who'd reached a level of acclaim before crumbling underneath his own hubris.

"You know what did it?" she asked.  "He tried to say, 'This is my music.  I did this.  And yeah, if you wrote that song, fine, whatever."  She shakes her head.  "But he was trying to say that about jazz."

"No one owns this." She pointed at the songbook on the piano.  "This is like breaking bread."

Some of Birdsall's friends wave goodbye.  She lets her hair down and kicks off a rousing final set.

Wherever her new direction takes her, wherever the country roads might lead, Kansas City jazz fans can be assured that Megan Birdsall fully intends to come home to break bread as much as possible.

For more information on Megan Birdsall, visit www.meganbirdsall.com or www.jardines4jazz.com.

By Vi Tran

theSTEADY and Jazz Contributor (Past writer)

Comments(1):

1. Great article

   Well-written piece, Vi. An interesting update on Birdsall's career.

   Wednesday, July 01, 2009 Pete

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