Upbeat Blues

By Joan Downs

"I ain't Bessie," Linda Hopkins disclaims, "and I wouldn't try to fool you." Well, yes and no. Like Bessie Smith, Hopkins came up in the South, with a mind bent on singing. And like the 1920s blues singer, who was an imposing 200-pounder, Hopkins, 50, is a handsome ample woman. Rustling her voluminous, diaphanous blue caftan, she shimmies across the stage of Manhattan's Ambassador Theater in a rhythmic roll that more than matches her vocal size. Me and Bessie, Hopkins' nearly one-woman musical revue (she is backed up by two dancers), recalls the history of Bessie Smith, from tent singer to Empress of the Blues.

There is plenty of muscle behind Hopkins' voice too, both physical and emotional. Throaty with raw gospel power, it is a hand-clapping, hip-slap ping sound, a miracle in sheer lustiness. Bessie never strayed far from a strong center tone. Hopkins, who is no mere imitator, stretches out a melody. "I feel good," she squeals after one alpine gliss, and so does the audience.

With a womanliness that is more maternal than sexual, Hopkins is most convincing when she evokes the fire and flood of up-tempo gospel numbers. But she is no blues singer. When neither love nor liquor could quench Bessie's misery, her harsh sounds of loneliness could bring an entire audience to tears. Bessie sang from pain, Linda sings from joy. She cannot crush her optimism. Hopkins ain't Bessie, it is true. She is, nonetheless, a champ.

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