The story of exploitation and loss in legendary vocalist Jimmy Scott's eventual rise to fame is not unique in the annals of jazz. Matthew Buzzell's understated docum entary manages to drive that point home far more poignantly than could any form of cooked up outrage. Performance footage of Scott on recent tour of Japan ' his uniquely phrased renditions of 'Time After Time' or 'Pennies From Heaven' floating serenely over the strings of a Tokyo orchestra, or more compactly interweaving with the piano riffs of his own combo ' is intercut with interviews that trace his notoriously stop and start career'Kallmann's Syndrome, a rare disease that prevents puberty, assured that his signature high voice would remain unchanged, but apparently led to booze-swilling, gun-toting and over-assertions of masculinity.

The early death of his mother, hit by a car while saving her little daughter, scattered the then 13-year-old Scott and his nine brothers and sisters into foster homes (cut to a spine-chilling rendition of 'Sometimes I Feel Like A Motherless Child'). But the true drama lies in Scott's troubled recording career' Scott more or less gave up music for 20 years, taking jobs as dishwasher, elevator operator or whatever came along, playing infrequent gigs offered by those few who knew he wasn't dead. And then, slowly, it all started up once more, Scott having acquired the patience and equanimity to sing the blues again' Ronnie Scheib, Variety