What a difference a year makes. This time last year, Leon Jackson was, in his own words, “just an ordinary lad who worked in a clothes shop, folding jeans and serving the public”, even as he dreamed of pursuing a singing career. On Friday evening, three months after being crowned the X Factor 2007 winner, Mr. Jackson headlined the final concert of the Live Tour at Wembley Arena and he was anything but ordinary. Mr. Jackson’s valedictory performance of the tour also marked his triumphant return to the venue where he was invited to duet with his idol, the Canadian crooner Michael Bublé, in December last year.
With his mellifluous voice, boyish good looks, engaging smile and charming persona, Mr. Jackson seems destined to become the next contemporary pop heartthrob. It may only have been less than a year since he turned up for the X Factor auditions in Glasgow, but Mr. Jackson has metamorphosed into a confident, stylish performer who has slipped into his best suit, straightened his tie, slapped on the aftershave and shined his shoes for his big date with pop stardom.
Mr. Jackson opened his set with a hip-swivelling, finger-snapping rendition of “Crazy Little Thing Called Love” that sent his female fans swooning with delight. Indeed, he seemed intent on capturing the hearts of the audience with this snazzy, uptempo number, only to break them later in the evening with a suite of love songs that demonstrated his ability to communicate a complex yet potent mixture of emotional honesty, vulnerability and tenderness.
Mr. Jackson’s delivery of the bittersweet road song “Home” was suffused with romantic yearning and showcased his mastery of supple, long-lined phrasing. Unlike the protagonist of the gentle, lilting ballad, who longs to be reunited with his soul mate, Mr. Jackson seems to have found some respite from his hectic touring schedule and his proclamation that “it will all be alright, I’m in Wembley tonight” was met with a roar of approval from the audience.
The concert’s outstanding number was Mr. Jackson’s beautifully unadorned version of “The Long and Winding Road”. In The Beatles’ melancholy paean to unattainable love, Mr. Jackson conjured up a poignant image of a young man in the throes of romantic turmoil as he implores the object of his affections to come clean, directly and painfully. Mr. Jackson sang it in an anguished baritone that throbbed with emotion, turning the last note of the song into a drawn-out cry of loneliness, and his eyes glistened with tears. It was the show’s most moving and vulnerable performance.
Mr. Jackson’s descent into despair continued with his heartbreaking rendition of “You Don’t Know Me”, the Ray Charles classic that is widely regarded by many of his fans as the ne plus ultra of his performances throughout the X Factor live shows. Perched on a stool with only Raquelle from “Hope” on the piano for company, his voice took on the viscosity of liquefied amber and he infused the lyrics with a personal, intimate point of view that conveyed a steady current of eroticism. A singer incapable of dishonesty, Mr. Jackson used the husky, persuasive edge in his voice to reveal a bruised romanticism that remained untarnished by bitterness or cynicism as he slowly built the torchy ballad from a gently nostalgic lament to a fiery cry of loss.
Mr. Jackson closed his program on an upbeat note with an inspiring rendition of “When You Believe”, his X Factor Winner’s Single that spent three weeks at the top of the UK pop charts. Borne aloft by a raised platform in the middle of the stage, Mr. Jackson sent his powerful vocals soaring high into the rafters with just a touch of gospel fervour. He crested the emotional peak of Stephen Schwartz’s impassioned anthem of unyielding faith by breaking into an achingly pure falsetto near the end of the song that brought the house down.
As Mr. Jackson clutched his right fist to his heart and blew kisses to the adoring crowd before making his exit, it was evident that The Leon King had not only come of age but also claimed his rightful place in the pantheon of X Factor winners. Long may he reign!
Friday, March 28, 2008
Saturday, February 9, 2008
Leon Jackson: The Boy Who Would Be King
“There can be miracles
When you believe
Though hope is frail
It’s hard to kill
Who knows what miracles
You can achieve
When you believe
Somehow you will
You will when you believe …”
As Leon Jackson took to the stage to reprise his rendition of “When You Believe” in the X Factor Final, he might have well been using the lyrics of the song to describe his own incredible journey. In less than a year, the 19 year old former shop assistant from Whitburn had gone from singing in his local pubs to winning the biggest talent competition in the country. It would be an overstatement to refer to his victory as a “miracle”, but his remarkable ascent from dark horse to contender and eventual winner of the fourth series of the show is both an inspirational tale for aspiring singers and a heartwarming story with a fairy tale ending.
We first encountered the diminutive Scotsman on our TV screens at the X Factor auditions in Glasgow. A shy, unassuming and softspoken young man with impeccable manners, Jackson had turned up for the auditions on his own. He spoke of his love for singing and his close relationship with his mother, who raised him as a single parent. Even though he had been offered a place to study Architectural Technology at Napier University, Jackson decided that he could at least gain some valuable experience from his audition, yet not even he could have predicted the kind of responses his performance would elicit from the judges.
After waiting for what must have seemed like an eternity to him, Jackson finally had the opportunity to impress the judges, and he did not disappoint. Jackson had chosen “Home”, a beautifully lucid ballad, as his audition piece. Singing in a clear, steady voice, he eloquently conveyed the romantic restlessness of the protagonist who longed to be reunited with his loved one. It did not take them long to recognise his natural talent; Jackson had barely finished singing the first verse when he was deluged with compliments. Stunned by their overwhelmingly positive reaction, Jackson broke down in tears when he realised that he would be joining other X Factor hopefuls at the boot camp.
Dannii Minogue, who served as his mentor for the show, had this to say about his audition in her X Factor blog:
“Leon had me in tears after his rendition of “Home” by Michael Bublé. As judges we never get to hear the story before they walk in the door. I had no idea that his mum had told him “pursuing a career in singing is a wee bit far fetched”. Now I know why the tears came tumbling when four fierce judges were thankful he had walked in the door and given us hope in the competition! When you wish upon a star … sometimes the dreams really do come true!”
The rest, as they say, is history.
So what is it about Jackson’s voice that holds your undivided attention from start to finish? The first thing that strikes you is how mature he sounds for someone his age. The voice itself is an impressive instrument, in pitch and timbre coming closer to Frank Sinatra than to his acknowledged idol, Michael Bublé. But what makes Jackson so remarkable is his “sound”: the warm, burnished tones of his baritone are gorgeously resonant and often underscored by a raw, sensual masculinity.
The use to which Jackson puts this voice is richly varied and highly original. Most idiosyncratic is his use of the “terminal vibrato”, the brief “shake” postponed to the very end of an evenly sustained note, to give individual syllables and sometimes whole phrases a heightened emotional sensitivity. There’s a very fine example in the first verse of “When You Believe”, where each elegantly sculpted phrase quivers with just the right touch of vulnerability.
Jackson’s lack of formal training and experience has ironically served him well in the competition. Forced to rely on his own instincts, he approaches a song intuitively, and it is this remarkable lack of artifice that allows him to locate the emotional core of the music and remain true to the lyrics. His natural and unaffected delivery enables the craft of the songwriters, whose works he performs, to shine through. Also, it has been noted that Jackson has a tendency to wear his heart too openly on his sleeve, yet it is this unguarded emotional directness that enables him to connect with the audience.
At this stage of his career, it would be premature to suggest that Jackson has forged his own distinctive style. However, his live performances on the show seem to indicate that, by combining a pop singer’s emotionality with a jazz singer’s sense of rhythm, he has developed a musical versatility that enables him to slide comfortably from classic swing standards to contemporary pop hits without indulging in stylistic contortions.
In his buoyant big band version of “Fly Me To The Moon”, the number begins with Jackson swinging lightly behind the beat, infusing more and more emotion as he goes along, bearing down insistently on the romantic declarations in Bart Howard’s lyric, before ending with a declamatory burst, treating the final “I love you” as triumphal last words.
If Jackson carries off the uptempo numbers of his repertoire with forceful, charismatic confidence, his ballad singing is equally impressive in its fullness, tonal security and ability to sustain long notes. While “Home” showcases his wonderfully supple phrasing and throbbing lyricism, Jackson will most likely be remembered for his outstanding rendition of the Ray Charles classic, “You Don’t Know Me”, which is widely regarded as his piece de resistance of the entire series.
Jackson’s delivery is suffused with a husky, bittersweet nostalgia and he deftly demonstrates how a torch song from a bygone era can more than convincingly express the unfulfilled romantic yearnings, dashed hopes and broken dreams of young men in today’s confused, fragmented world. Close your eyes for a moment and you can almost imagine yourself in a deserted, dimly lit jazz club in the wee hours of the morning, nursing a double Scotch while he pours his heart out to you onstage.
Whether his performance smoulders with a sophisticated sensuality (Week 6) or crackles with a highly charged sexual tension (Live Final), Jackson turns the ballad into an intimate expression of the character’s hopeless longing that lends his woeful tale of unrequited love a pungent pathos. There is invariably a lover being addressed, but in his reading that lover is never in the room. The lyric is what the singer wishes to say, or wishes he had said. We’re witnessing a private moment.
When you believe
Though hope is frail
It’s hard to kill
Who knows what miracles
You can achieve
When you believe
Somehow you will
You will when you believe …”
As Leon Jackson took to the stage to reprise his rendition of “When You Believe” in the X Factor Final, he might have well been using the lyrics of the song to describe his own incredible journey. In less than a year, the 19 year old former shop assistant from Whitburn had gone from singing in his local pubs to winning the biggest talent competition in the country. It would be an overstatement to refer to his victory as a “miracle”, but his remarkable ascent from dark horse to contender and eventual winner of the fourth series of the show is both an inspirational tale for aspiring singers and a heartwarming story with a fairy tale ending.
We first encountered the diminutive Scotsman on our TV screens at the X Factor auditions in Glasgow. A shy, unassuming and softspoken young man with impeccable manners, Jackson had turned up for the auditions on his own. He spoke of his love for singing and his close relationship with his mother, who raised him as a single parent. Even though he had been offered a place to study Architectural Technology at Napier University, Jackson decided that he could at least gain some valuable experience from his audition, yet not even he could have predicted the kind of responses his performance would elicit from the judges.
After waiting for what must have seemed like an eternity to him, Jackson finally had the opportunity to impress the judges, and he did not disappoint. Jackson had chosen “Home”, a beautifully lucid ballad, as his audition piece. Singing in a clear, steady voice, he eloquently conveyed the romantic restlessness of the protagonist who longed to be reunited with his loved one. It did not take them long to recognise his natural talent; Jackson had barely finished singing the first verse when he was deluged with compliments. Stunned by their overwhelmingly positive reaction, Jackson broke down in tears when he realised that he would be joining other X Factor hopefuls at the boot camp.
Dannii Minogue, who served as his mentor for the show, had this to say about his audition in her X Factor blog:
“Leon had me in tears after his rendition of “Home” by Michael Bublé. As judges we never get to hear the story before they walk in the door. I had no idea that his mum had told him “pursuing a career in singing is a wee bit far fetched”. Now I know why the tears came tumbling when four fierce judges were thankful he had walked in the door and given us hope in the competition! When you wish upon a star … sometimes the dreams really do come true!”
The rest, as they say, is history.
So what is it about Jackson’s voice that holds your undivided attention from start to finish? The first thing that strikes you is how mature he sounds for someone his age. The voice itself is an impressive instrument, in pitch and timbre coming closer to Frank Sinatra than to his acknowledged idol, Michael Bublé. But what makes Jackson so remarkable is his “sound”: the warm, burnished tones of his baritone are gorgeously resonant and often underscored by a raw, sensual masculinity.
The use to which Jackson puts this voice is richly varied and highly original. Most idiosyncratic is his use of the “terminal vibrato”, the brief “shake” postponed to the very end of an evenly sustained note, to give individual syllables and sometimes whole phrases a heightened emotional sensitivity. There’s a very fine example in the first verse of “When You Believe”, where each elegantly sculpted phrase quivers with just the right touch of vulnerability.
Jackson’s lack of formal training and experience has ironically served him well in the competition. Forced to rely on his own instincts, he approaches a song intuitively, and it is this remarkable lack of artifice that allows him to locate the emotional core of the music and remain true to the lyrics. His natural and unaffected delivery enables the craft of the songwriters, whose works he performs, to shine through. Also, it has been noted that Jackson has a tendency to wear his heart too openly on his sleeve, yet it is this unguarded emotional directness that enables him to connect with the audience.
At this stage of his career, it would be premature to suggest that Jackson has forged his own distinctive style. However, his live performances on the show seem to indicate that, by combining a pop singer’s emotionality with a jazz singer’s sense of rhythm, he has developed a musical versatility that enables him to slide comfortably from classic swing standards to contemporary pop hits without indulging in stylistic contortions.
In his buoyant big band version of “Fly Me To The Moon”, the number begins with Jackson swinging lightly behind the beat, infusing more and more emotion as he goes along, bearing down insistently on the romantic declarations in Bart Howard’s lyric, before ending with a declamatory burst, treating the final “I love you” as triumphal last words.
If Jackson carries off the uptempo numbers of his repertoire with forceful, charismatic confidence, his ballad singing is equally impressive in its fullness, tonal security and ability to sustain long notes. While “Home” showcases his wonderfully supple phrasing and throbbing lyricism, Jackson will most likely be remembered for his outstanding rendition of the Ray Charles classic, “You Don’t Know Me”, which is widely regarded as his piece de resistance of the entire series.
Jackson’s delivery is suffused with a husky, bittersweet nostalgia and he deftly demonstrates how a torch song from a bygone era can more than convincingly express the unfulfilled romantic yearnings, dashed hopes and broken dreams of young men in today’s confused, fragmented world. Close your eyes for a moment and you can almost imagine yourself in a deserted, dimly lit jazz club in the wee hours of the morning, nursing a double Scotch while he pours his heart out to you onstage.
Whether his performance smoulders with a sophisticated sensuality (Week 6) or crackles with a highly charged sexual tension (Live Final), Jackson turns the ballad into an intimate expression of the character’s hopeless longing that lends his woeful tale of unrequited love a pungent pathos. There is invariably a lover being addressed, but in his reading that lover is never in the room. The lyric is what the singer wishes to say, or wishes he had said. We’re witnessing a private moment.
Jackson’s voice acquires the tawniness of a vintage port as he conjures up an affecting portrait of a shy and inexperienced young man who is held back by his own insecurity and inability to articulate his feelings for the woman he loves. As the song slowly builds to its powerful, shattering climax, feelings of regret and heartbreak give way to a pent-up frustration and he unleashes a scorching cri de coeur in a thrilling, masterful performance that brings the house down.
As he prepares to headline the X Factor Tour that will cover most of the major cities across the country, what does the future hold for Jackson, whose fans are eagerly anticipating the launch of his debut album in autumn? Perhaps it can best be summed up by the following lyric from Cy Coleman and Carolyn Leigh’s pop-jazz standard (with a tongue-in-cheek nod to the talented young man himself):
“The best is yet to come, and babe (sir) won’t it be fine!”
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