Liner Note:

A half-hour and six diverse standards into True Love, John Dokes applies his mellow, smooth-as-butter baritone to a song of his own, “Cool Enough,” with instrument-like phrasing, pristine articulation and exemplary time at a medium-up tempo that is best described as swinging. It depicts a man’s delight at overcoming his resistance to emotional transparency and commitment, thereby earning the affections of his beloved. “Am I cool now, or a fool somehow, thinking a guy like me could make a girl like you happy,” Dokes sings. “Well, baby, when this day is through, I don’t want to rise and look for someone new. I want to wake up and be cool enough for you. Am I cool, am I cool?”

Now, if you’re perusing these remarks, chances are you’re familiar with the “cool” factor that Dokes projects in one of the multiple arenas in which he operates. Perhaps you’ve observed the suave, elegant figure he presents when singing in front of the George Gee Big Band or interacting with the smooth, kinetic A-list rhythm section that propels him through both True Love, on which masteralto saxophonist Mark Gross rounds out the quintet, and on its well-received 2017 predecessor, Forever Reasons, another quintet outing on which bandmate David Gibson played trombone. Or perhaps you’ve witnessed Dokes’ prowess as a swing dancer, documentedon several YouTube clips in which he carries his virtuoso chops with the casual grace of a gentleman, preferring to complement his partners, while never sacrificing his individualism. Or maybe you’ve encountered Dokes the businessman, fulfilling his obligations as the Global Chief Marketing Officer and General Manager of the AccuWeather Network.

In any of these contexts, it’s hard for an outsider to imagine this decidedly cool customer experiencing any twinges of self-doubt or insecurity. That’s why it’s surprising to hear that the back story of “Cool Enough” references Imposter Syndrome, a psychological condition where individuals feel insecure and fraudulent despite clear evidence to the contrary. Dokes says: “You’re hitting your numbers, doing what you’re supposed to, but there’s still that little angst, like: Am I good enough for what I’m doing? I transferred that to the beginning of a relationship. Even though things are going well, you still wonder: Is this really happening?”

Dokes began singing on bandstands only thirteen years ago at the urging of friends and colleagues impressed by his raw talent and charismatic personality. Now he wields his silken instrument at a level of artistry and craft that denotes a lifetime in the trenches. Still, he takes nothing for granted. “I always want to find myself in a learning mode,” he says. “I don’t close myself off and think there’s nothing more to come. It’s always about getting better.” Still, he continues, “there was a point in my career when if somebodyasked me about what I do from a singing standpoint, I would probably say, ‘I sing with a big band.’ I don’t know when it happened, but I got more comfortable calling myself a ‘jazz vocalist.’”

As borne out by his second recital of love songs, famous andobscure, Dokes not only is a “jazz vocalist,” but an inspired stylist. He inhabits each narrative with a well-considered point of view, illuminating the nooks and crannies with subtle vocal inflections and rhythmic permutations, conveying the messages with a smooth, punchy, soulful delivery that evokes his first main influence, Joe Williams, the iconic Basie band singer.

Dokes conveys the album’s message on the set-opener, “A Sleepin’ Bee,” when, after ebullient solos by alto saxophonist Mark Gross and pianist Steve Einerson, he spins variations on the concluding line of Truman Capote’s lyric (“When my one true love I have found”), then fades out with the chant “true love, true love, true love.”

“That was the first song that came to mind when I thought about working with Mark,” says Dokes, whose introduction to “A Sleepin’ Bee” was Nancy Wilson’s and Cannonball Adderley’s 1961 collaboration. Dokes adds that Gross suggested they address Jerome Kern’s and Oscar Hammerstein’s “Nobody Else But Me,” delivered with ebullience. He references antecedent versions of the famous Nat Cole vehicle, “Never Let Me Go” by ballad masters Barbara Morrison and Andy Bey as inspirations for a nuanced treatment that retains emotional weight as a medium bossa. His brisk interpretation of Rodgers & Hart’s “You Are Too Beautiful” signifies on Johnny Hartman’s iconic reading: “There’s such clarity in the lyrics that I knew I’d be able to speed it up and have fun with it without losing the song’s meaning.”

“I listen to what other people did with songs, and turn it off as quickly as I can so their arrangements aren’t in my head,” Dokes says. That independent mindset is apparent when he delivers “Pure Imagination,” which “has been in my head since I saw Gene Wilder in Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory as a child; it reminds me of being young and optimistic, inviting people into my world.” Dokes also stamps his personality on a 3/4 treatment of Paul McCartney’s “Eleanor Rigby,” which portrays “a different level of love” in depicting “optimism despite the circumstances” in the characters of Father MacKenzie and the title’s dedicatee.

Dokes voice-dances to the fulcrum of Lawrence Leathers’ groovin’ straight-eighth clip-clop on Bernard Ighner’s “Everything Must Change,” on which Dokes’ namesake father sang lead when he worked in Temptations-style groups during the 1970s around Oakland, California. Dokes uncorks a declamatory sermon; Gross puts forth a testifying alto saxophone solo. The drummer’s New Orleans funk cadences also offeropportunity for rhythmic play on “Comes Love,” a famous vehicle for Billie Holiday and Carmen McRae to which Dokes became attracted via Loston Harris’s 1998 version.

As on Forever Reasons, the final track of True Love is George and Ira Gershwin’s iconic“You Don’t Know What Love Is.” This time, Dokes transitions from the more traditional ballad treatment of the earlier date to a brisker pace inspired by Ahmad Jamal’s kaleidoscopic tour de force with bassist Israel Crosby and drummer Vernell Fournier on the 1958 album Live At The Spotlite.

“This tune probably accelerated my need to do a second CD within such a short time span,” Dokes says. “When I recorded it the first time, I felt like I was talking to myself in the mirror as a person delivering those lines. Doing this version, it’s sort of like split personalities —a guy who’s trying to give advice but at the same time is losing it a little and thinking about what happened to him. There’s a part in the middle where he goes back to trying to give advice, and putting a hopeful spin on it, but towards the end he returns to the devastation of what happened.”

Thus ends the second installment of what Dokes hopes will be a trilogy of quintet albums, to be followed by a prospective session with a yet-to-be-determined trumpet player. “I’m never satisfied,” he says. “I still get surprised when people know who I am. I hope I’m always a little bit surprised, no matter what happens —if I’m walking around expecting people to know who I am, then I’m not me any more.”

Ted Panken