Forty-four tracks tracing a career that began in defiance of a famous name and ended by embracing it. Natalie Cole died on the last day of 2015, aged sixty-five.

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Natalie Cole (1950–2015)
Natalie Cole spent the first half of her career deliberately not being her father's daughter. She arrived in 1975 with hard, gospel-inflected soul records produced in Chicago, won Best New Artist at the Grammys, and was frequently compared to Aretha Franklin rather than to Nat King Cole.
The second half is one of the more remarkable reinventions in popular music. After years of addiction and commercial decline, she released Unforgettable... with Love in 1991 — an album of her father's repertoire, including a duet constructed from his 1951 recording. It won seven Grammys and sold millions, and it recast her as a jazz and standards singer for the rest of her life.
She died on 31 December 2015, and this playlist was posted a fortnight later.
What to listen for
"This Will Be (An Everlasting Love)" is the debut single and still the most joyful thing here — a genuinely hard soul record that announced a serious singer.
"Inseparable" and "I've Got Love On My Mind" are the other seventies peaks, and "Sophisticated Lady" is the one soul collectors prize.
"Our Love" and "La Costa" are the deep cuts from that era and show how much range she had before the reinvention.
"Walkin' My Baby Back Home" is the duet with her father — constructed from a recording made when she was an infant — and it is a strange and moving piece of technology.
"Stardust", "When I Fall In Love" and "Good Morning Heartache" are the standards, and the last is the Billie Holiday song, sung with real understanding of what it is about.
"Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds" live is the outlier and a reminder of how loose she could be on stage.
"Dindi" is the Jobim, and "When I Fall In Love" in Spanish comes from her late Latin album.
Go deeper
Inseparable (1975) is the soul album and Unforgettable... with Love (1991) is the one that rewrote her career. Both are worth hearing in full and they sound like two different artists.
Then go to Nat King Cole — not the Christmas records, but After Midnight (1957), where he is a working jazz pianist as much as a singer.
How to hear the two halves: play an early Chicago soul single straight into one of the standards recordings and they sound like different artists, because in every meaningful sense they were. Very few singers get a second career at all; fewer still get one that wins seven Grammys and recasts the whole first act in retrospect.
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