At 83, Barbra Streisand has opened up about the private musical influences who shaped her legendary career, describing them not merely as admired artists but as an “inheritance” that lives on through her voice. In a deeply personal reflection, Streisand said she had kept these names to herself for a long time, calling them “pieces of me” rather than simple influences. She explained her decision to speak now by saying, “Gratitude is useless when it’s unspoken. ”
The first name she revealed was Fanny Brice, the vaudeville performer Streisand portrayed in the film “Funny Girl.
” Streisand said Brice gave her permission to be bold, different, and unforgettable. She described her connection to Brice not as imitation but as a conversation across time. “Fanny gave me permission,” Streisand said. “Permission to be bold, to be different, to be unforgettable.
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Streisand also credited French singer Édith Piaf, whose raw, emotionally exposed performances left a profound mark on her. She recalled first hearing Piaf as a teenager in her Brooklyn bedroom and being struck by the singer’s unpolished honesty. “She didn’t just sing a song, she bled it,” Streisand said. She acknowledged that Piaf’s tragic life made her fear for her own path at times, but ultimately the singer taught her that vulnerability is a form of power.
Frank Sinatra was another key influence, though for opposite reasons. Where Piaf taught Streisand the power of breaking, Sinatra taught her the power of holding back. Streisand studied his phrasing obsessively, learning that silence and restraint could be as powerful as volume. “He taught me that less can be more,” she said.
“That silence can sing louder than sound. ”
Streisand recalled the two eventually meeting briefly at an industry event. Sinatra raised a glass and told her, “Kid, you’ve got guts. ” She said that was enough, because from him, less always meant more.
In the late 1960s, Streisand discovered Laura Nyro, an artist she described as quieter and more elusive than the other names on her list. Nyro’s blending of jazz, pop, gospel, and folk resonated with Streisand, who had herself faced criticism for not fitting neatly into categories. “She didn’t ask permission,” Streisand said of Nyro. “She just sang what she felt.
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Streisand recorded an entire album of Nyro’s songs, “Stony End,” in 1971, a departure from her typical theatrical ballads. She credited Nyro with teaching her that honest singing matters more than perfect singing. Johnny Mathis represented elegance for Streisand. She described adoring him before ever meeting him, listening to his smooth recordings in her early years.
His calm phrasing offered a standard of grace she carried into her own dramatic performances. Decades later, Streisand finally sang with Mathis in a performance of songs from “West Side Story. ” She described the duet as one of the most profound musical moments of her life, saying it felt less like competition and more like being held. “Johnny reminded me that glitz is nothing without grace,” she said.
The sixth influence Streisand named was Lena Horne, a singer she said shaped her quietly, even when she did not openly acknowledge it. Streisand noted that Horne’s restraint and sophistication left traces in her own phrasing. Horne, a Black woman breaking barriers in mid-century America, carried herself with dignity in a hostile industry. Streisand, a Jewish girl from Brooklyn who knew what it meant to be underestimated, recognized that courage immediately.
“She never raised her voice to prove her worth,” Streisand reflected. “She proved it by standing still, by being undeniable. ”
Streisand and Horne met briefly later in life. The encounter was short but meaningful, with Streisand saying of Horne’s unspoken influence, “I already knew.
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Beyond the six public names, Streisand admitted there were others she never spoke of aloud. Some were forgotten nightclub singers she saw in Manhattan, some were teachers and mentors, and some were fleeting collaborators whose contributions remained with her. “I never said their names because they weren’t famous,” she confessed. “But they’re in me.
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There were also names too painful to revisit, artists whose tragedies and rivalries cut too close. “Some names are just too sad,” she admitted. “Too personal. Saying them feels like reopening a wound.
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Streisand said her goal in naming these six singers now was not simply tribute but legacy. She hopes young artists will go back and listen to the voices that shaped her and learn the lessons they taught her. “They weren’t my influences,” she said. “They were my inheritance.
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Streisand concluded by describing her voice as a chorus stitched together by those who came before her, insisting she never believed in the idea of a self-made artist. “We are all mosaics,” she said. “Every song I sing is their gift passed through me.
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