Esperanza spalding husband dating
But asked if she's recognized during grocery store outings or bike rides through her Travis Heights neighborhood, she just laughs and says, "I'm still a jazz musician." If there's ever been a time for Top 40 outliers, this is it—alt-rock Canadians Arcade Fire stunned the Twitterati by winning the Grammy for Album of the Year over radio pets Katy Perry, Lady Gaga, and Eminem.
That same night, wearing a chartreuse gown, custom-made by a friend of a friend, Brooklyn designer Selma Karaca, Spalding beat out Justin Bieber for Best New Artist.
"I go in my little lair, I open the doors to my yard," she says, "and I just practice."Which doesn't leave much exploring time, so when Spalding finds a hangout she likes, she greets it like a hiker who's just seen a double rainbow. Outside, picnickers dot the grounds of this prime example of the New Formalism that informs Texas' dalliance with modernist architecture.
When it's time for dinner, Spalding takes a bar stool at the North Loop's Foreign & Domestic, a charming 42-seat open-kitchen restaurant, and explains her gravitation toward quirk—you'll regularly find her at South Congress vintage boutique Feathers—and how it sets her apart from her classical-leaning counterparts.
Comes in with her hair tied (doesnt do the signature afro) and looks very plain.
Flirts with one of this hostess' (very pretty Asian/black girl) and often has drinks there with a woman (no details about her) who is OBVIOUSLY either her lover or someone she's slept with. People who know her from Berklee know she's gay or at LEAST bisexual She frequents the Blue Note in NY.
Among those who dominate the prickly jazz world, 26-year-old bassist Esperanza Spalding is as rare as a four-leaf clover. Or because she performs barefoot—"it's more comfortable," she says—or for enlisting Q-Tip to produce the follow-up to her 2010 fusion-jazz album, Chamber Music Society, which sent shock waves through Charlie Parker faithfuls for its Brazilian influences, fresh rhythms, and instant accessibility.
It's also for where Spalding—friends call her "Espy"—has chosen to live: Austin, a city that's just as delightfully odd as, well, a shoeless twentysomething headlining Carnegie Hall.
She does not consider herself a musical prodigy, having said, "I am surrounded by prodigies everywhere I go, but because they are a little older than me, or not a female, or not on a major label, they are not acknowledged as such." Spalding had intended to play cello, Spalding found high school "easy – and boring" and dropped out.
"That," she says, pointing to its bare bulbs and exposed wires, a graceful mix of low-tech and slick, "is soooo Austin."Not so long ago, an iconic light fixture like this might have been soooo New York, Milan, or Paris, but certainly not so this small liberal bastion in the red South, home to University of Texas, the state capital, and, since it was the mise-en-scène for the generation-defining '90s film Slacker, also considered the capital for the going-nowhere-slowly Gen-X set.
Like a drab cactus that blasts out an unlikely hot pink flower, Austin has blossomed.
But many locals vacate the city that week, and the favored slogan around town is "Keep Austin Weird." Just the right balance between glamour and grounded for Spalding. Incredible," she stage-whispers while scaling the LBJ Library & Museum's massive great hall staircase.
She moved here from Jersey City two years ago (but keeps a West Village pied-à-terre for work visits and to see her NYC-based musician boyfriend) into a garden-level duplex in the bobo-inhabited 78704 zip code with her best friend, jazz singer Lian Amber. Above her, the thirty-sixth president's papers (such as his 1964 "Great Society" speech) are bound in four floors of red books.