'Utility' man Ernie Andrews to sing with Seattle Rep Jazz Orchestra

"I've had too much of everything and not enough of nothin'," crows Ernie Andrews, quoting from the song, "The Great City." He laughs with the mix of high style and good humor that has kept his vocal career sparkling — if not in the limelight — for 56 years.

Andrews is the star of the Seattle Repertory Jazz Orchestra's season opener this weekend, even as the redoubtable group warms up for a visit from another honored guest, Quincy Jones, Monday. Andrews performs with the SRJO at 7:30 p.m. tomorrow at Benaroya Hall's Nordstrom Recital Hall ($15-$29, 206-523-6159 or 206-215-4747) and at 3 p.m. Sunday at the Kirkland Performance Center ($16-$31, 206-523-6159 or 425-893-9900).

Andrews, 73, came up at the tail end of WWII, when Los Angeles' Central Avenue was exploding with jazz and the snappy new sound of R&B. Particularly popular then — especially with the ladies — was the luxurious baritone of Billy Eckstine, whose style Andrews copped on his first hit, a mellow, come-hither ballad called "Soothe Me."

You can hear that tune as well as another early Andrews' hit on the highly recommended, four-CD compilation, "Central Avenue Sounds" (Rhino). Andrews himself hosts an equally rich video documentary, "Ernie Andrews' Blues on Central Avenue" (Rhapsody), made by Seattle director Lois Shelton.

When he had his first hit, Andrews was only 17, still attending L.A.'s fabled Jefferson High School, where some of his classmates included Dexter Gordon, Art Farmer and Cornish College instructor Hadley Caliman.

Another hopeful on the Central Avenue scene was Seattle's Ernestine Anderson.

"That's my baby girl," he says, with obvious affection. "We spent many days together. What a great singer. She's the real deal. We did a cruise together a year-and-a-half ago."

Like Anderson, Andrews has been eluded by enduring fame, but commands great respect in the jazz world — singer Jimmy Witherspoon once named Andrews his favorite singer of all time — and has had significant successes. In 1953, he had a hit with saxophonist Benny Carter, "Make Me A Present of You," and in 1959, started a 10-year hitch with the late, great band leader Harry James.

After a quiet decade in the '70s, the Philadelphia-born singer began an association with the Capp/Pierce Juggernaut, followed by one of his best recordings, "You Can Hide Inside the Music" (Verve), with the Harper Brothers, and a 1989 world tour with Gene Harris and the Philip Morris Superband.

On his latest album, "Girl Talk" (High Note), Andrews is in fine form, offering his signature combination of bedroom-eyes balladeering ("Everybody's Somebody's Fool," "Don't Touch Me") and humorous bravado ("That's What I Thought You Said").

With the SRJO, Andrews will sing, among other tunes, a Duke Ellington medley and an original "blues collage" Joe Williams often borrowed.

"They often try to make a blues singer out of me," says Andrews, whose splintered shout in the high range owes a debt to Kansas City blues man Jimmy Rushing. "But I'm really not. I'm a utility singer. You have to communicate with people. You gotta talk to them, let them know that we are together. You say, 'Come up here for a minute. Let me run this down to you. ... If I were you, I'd love me ... ' "

Andrews breaks into song lyrics again, laughing loud and long.

"I don't have a dime, considering what I've been through in my life, but I certainly have enjoyed it!"

Paul de Barros can be reached at 206-464-3247 or pdebarros@seattletimes.com.