Brenda Bradley

Brenda Bradley

BandJazzSpoken Word

Singer/Songwriter exploring and interpreting the soul of sound.


Native Detroiter, Brenda Bradley hails from authentic and diverse musical roots honed in a range of influences from Billie Holliday to Mahalia Jackson. Enchanted by Motown and gospel singing aunts and a saxophone playing father, she began an earnest love affair with writing and producing songs and spoken word in 2001.

This led to performances with a number of leading Jazz artists who become influential in her life and budding career, including trumpeter, Marcus Belgrave and the late Dr. Teddy Harris. Performance venues include Thalian Hall (North Carolina), Nuyorican Cafe (New York), Baker's Keyboard Lounge, Detroit Institute of Arts, the Ford Detroit Jazz Festival and Comerica TasteFest (Detroit).

Starting with early exposure in church, she progressed to small ensemble performances including Renaissance period music and jazz. She has written and produced songs in all genres, ranging from Alternative Rock to urban contemporary. However, her true loves and current pursuits lie in Jazz vocals and Spoken Word.

Although the spirit of a ballad does not escape her, the movement and artistic opportunities for up-tempo straight ahead and bebop standards, combined with spoken word interludes are emerging as uniquely memorable trademarks.


Could Have Been

Written By: Brenda Bradley

It was a night with no moon
Some time last June
when our love miscarried

No mourners with flowers
only tense hours
'til this thing is buried

No need to pretend
Nothing left to mend
But we can't release
just can't make peace
with what could have been

An eclipse we witnessed
The spitting image
of some hope within

Never big enough to name
Never long enough to claim
Never strong enough to live

No need to pretend
Nothing left to mend
But we can't release
still can't make peace
with what could have been

Toast & Tangerines

Written By: Brenda Bradley

One day, I woke up and realized
that we were the cause of my demise
and my poor choices and I sat up
and began to laugh maniacally
We got out of bed. You said to me
"Breakfast is toast and tangerines"
and I read a magazine
and drank coffee as I reviewed recent history
(Vocal ad libs)

I thought...

"I'm sick of this routine, and what does it really mean?"
I really hate toast and tangerines
(Vocal ad libs)

So today I came in and you were gone again
and I breathed a little sigh of relief
I put my feet on the table and turned on cable
and I just danced
I danced around the bedroom
and jumped up on the bed
I almost danced on the ceiling
but chose the chairs instead
I danced til I was light in the head


Now your key is in the door
and I don't feel like dancing anymore
I'm tired and the light in my eyes is dying
and suddenly I'm crying and I hear myself scream


I'm leaving tonight and I don't want to fight
and as a gesture of my genorosity
I'm leaving ALL the toast and tangerines