Today I’m sharing another
Voice on that whole love-at-a-certain-age
thing. I can’t stress this enough: men just don’t even want to think about this kind of thing, much
less talk about it.
Patty Loveless is
another of the artists my sister’s mix
tapes introduced me to while I was in the UK. I came across “Ships” on my
own, and I was struck immediately by its charm. You know I hate Vegas—it’s my
idea of Hell gone bad. The last time I was there, to go to CES in 2009, the best
thing I could say about it was that I was so glad to get out of the place,
even Seattle looked good by comparison.
But I’m not sure “Ships”
would work in any other setting. The concept of two people who are worn down
and worn out going to that conflation of fakery and greed with the vague idea
of striking lucky…and then doing just that is the very definition of romance.
Anyone can fall in love with someone if you’re young, good looking and
energetic (viz: every movie shown on Hallmark Channel). But to find love like
Eddie and Lily—well, just the thought of that brightens my day.
A song—and Voice—of an
entirely different nature. Chrissie Hynde and the Pretenders were big when I
was in college, and I’ve always had a soft spot for her—living the dream of
leaving Akron, Ohio, for London…
Okay, here’s a story
that comes out of the UK—one of those corporate head scratchers that every once
in a while just leaves me completely gobsmacked.
It seems Asda, the
supermarket chain that’s a wholly-owned subsidiary of Walmart, had listed this Halloween
costume on its online catalog:
Do you notice what’s
wrong with it? Because if you do, you’re presumably way ahead of everyone in
Asda’s corporate merchandising and marketing departments. Not to mention
whoever in legal and PR signed off on it.
I mean, really—was there
no one in the chain of approvals who held up a hand, cleared their throat and
said, “Um, hello…”?
Because pretty much
most of the denizens of the platform dropped Asda in it in short order. On
Wednesday the company was forced to apologize, remove the costume from its
catalog and offer up a donation of £25,000 to the mental health charity Mind. (Asda
competitor Tesco, which had a similar costume on offer, recalled its version
and announced it would contribute some unspecified sum to Mind as well.)
I find it interesting
that these companies are so out of it that it apparently didn’t occur to them that
1)Mental illness isn’t a particularly joking matter in general, much less after
recent events in the Washington Navy Yard; or that 2) Social media is going to
pick up on anything and ram it down
your corporate throat.
Look, I’m
not the most politically correct human being on the face of the planet, and I
acknowledge that this is Halloween we’re talking about, which is not the most
tasteful holiday in the calendar. If Asda and Tesco had wanted to sell this
particular costume, all they had to do was label it “ax murderer”, and they’d
have been home free. You can’t really declare ax murderers a sensitive category; if it weren’t for them, Jamie Lee Curtis wouldn’t have had the career
that allows her out there hawking Activia these days. (A horror of a different
stripe.)
But—seriously,
people? “Mental patient”? I’d ask, what were they thinking; but clearly they
weren’t.
Since the Voices are
how I characterize intuition—that gut feeling you get about a situation or a
person, which you ignore or contravene at your own peril—let’s return to Cyndi
Lauper, and one of her signature pieces.
Of course I’m talking
about “True Colors”—the ability to see and appreciate people as they truly are,
irrespective of how they try to dress themselves up or down.
The song is a natural
as anthem for the LGBT movement, and Lauper has made use of it to support the
equality cause. I’ve always seen it as a friendly kind of song—as in all about
friendship.
My association with
my second offering today is kind of the antithesis of friendship and the kind
of relationship that supports. Not because “Caro mio ben” is an 18th
Century punk song but because…well.
Back in the vast
primordial beginning of this century, O Best Belovèd, I got to know someone
who, ah, comment dit-on? Who only
ever listens to another person as a staging ground for producing what he thinks
are either bons mots or Timeless
Truths. For some reason, “Caro mio ben” came up as a topic, and I mentioned
that I’ve sung it. (Come on—everyone’s
sung it.) He proclaimed that it’s a great song by…Mozart. I replied to the
effect that—according to my Schirmer’s sheet music—it’s by Giordani.
Without hesitation he
responded, “…with music by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart.”
Well, there you go.
(The really
interesting thing about him and others like him is that they believe everything
that comes out of their mouths. So fully that I’m willing to bet that they’d
all pass polygraph tests, regardless of the porkies they produce.)
I don’t hold it
against the song though.
As an aside—I would
have given you another piece, actually by
Mozart, from Bartoli, which is on my personal Bucket List. (It’s kind of
interesting that the worse my voice gets, the more ambitious my aspirations become.)
But “Exsultate Jubilate”
runs to 14-15 minutes. A little long to keep you here. But I just love that
sucker; as with “O mio babbino caro”, I’ve got multiple recordings of it. I
first heard Frederica von Stade sing it way back in the 80s, but had a devil of
a time finding a recording of her. (Which appears to be the case on YouTube,
too.) Sumi Jo’s is quite interesting, and of course Kathleen Battle’s can’t be
matched for purity of tone. But I always keep coming back to Bartoli; her voice has a quality of warmth that keeps me enthralled.
Another day of
working girls. It’s always something, isn’t it?
And you know that
there couldn’t be a tribute to women’s work without Donna Summer’s “She Works
Hard for the Money.” Crank up the volume on this one and clear a space around
you, because you’re going to want to get up and move.
Not sure I even need
to comment on the nature of the song, but I will reiterate my sense of
loss that she’s no longer making music in that vibrant style with that
stunning voice.
Naturally, “She Works
Hard for the Money” is on my gym playlist. Another one that cranks up the
cardio workout is Martina McBride’s cover of Emmylou Harris’s “Two More Bottles
of Wine”. Keep the volume up on this one, too.
I love this song—all about
dreams, ambitions, love—and ending up sweeping out a warehouse in West L.A.
Listen—if you knew that area at all, well…it’s the very definition of Things
Gone Wrong.
But I like the
hopefulness of the two more bottles of wine.
They do say that
women’s work is never done, so time for the Voices to tackle…working girls. All
kinds of working girls.
One of my all-time
hero-worshipping divas is Marlene Dietrich. The woman had élan, depth, brains,
mystery, humor and courage in vast amounts. And her moral compass was truer
than almost anyone else’s I can think of.
If I didn’t know
anything else at all about her, the fact that she basically flipped off Nazis
from Hitler and Goebbels on down would punch her ticket as far as I’m
concerned. After she left Germany in the early 1930s, she was the go-to girl
for every other artist fleeing the regime, providing unstinting money, guidance
and moral support. She also was a stalwart in the US war effort, participating
in bond drives and being a regular fixture at the Hollywood Canteen. She didn’t
care if she made sandwiches, washed dishes or danced with the servicemen—she did
whatever was needed. Cheerfully and with panache.
She also went to the
front lines in Western Europe to entertain the troops, even though she knew
that if she should fall into German hands, what remained of her life would be
short and miserable. She reasoned that it was worth the risk if her presence
would reassure our soldiers. And, BTW, she glammed it up to the max. Although,
in all fairness, Dietrich could wear a couple of old flour sacks and a pair of combat
boots, and still look like every penny of the million bucks her legs were
insured for. Honestly—from the cheekbones down she had magical bone structure.
(She also made time
for an affair with, amongst others, James M. Gavin, eventually commander of the
82nd Airborne Division. The two of them together could have generated
enough heat to melt the snow in the Hürtgen Forest.)
But today is about
working girls, remember? And “Lili Marlene” was one of the defining songs of World
War II. Soldiers on both sides of the conflict couldn’t get enough of it.
Goebbels hated it and tried to ban it on German broadcasts; but the requests
from the front were too numerous. (Naturally, Axis radio didn’t air Dietrich’s
version. It was called “Das Mädchen unter der Laterne”, “The Girl Under the
Lantern”, and the singer, Lale Andersen was forever tied to it.)
I suppose it’s open
to interpretation whether the eponymous Lili is a working girl—although I’ve
been around enough military installations to know that the women hanging out at
the gates are probably there in a professional capacity. And being a pro doesn’t
preclude the notion of true love. Does it?
In the 1993 film A Foreign Field, a couple of D-Day
veterans, American and British, are reminiscing in Calvados, along with the
Frenchwoman they both remember as their true love. Which she was, for about 35
minutes. But the Brit, played by Leo McKern, comments on the power of “Lili
Marlene” to the effect that, “That bitch would get you every time.” From what I’ve
read, that pretty much sums it up.
And as far as I’m
concerned, Dietrich singing it is pretty much the perfect storm.
Our second piece
today is Aretha Franklin’s “Do Right Woman/Do Right Man”. Not, strictly
speaking, about working women. But good advice nonetheless.
The Higher Power is a
big topic, so we’ll spend another day in it.
If you’ve never heard
Sweet Honey in the Rock, I’m just so sad for you. These women make music that
resonates deep into my core; their beautiful and powerful voices blend in such
a stunning way that whenever I hear them, I have to stop whatever I’m doing and
listen.
This version of them
doing “Jacob’s Ladder” is from the soundtrack to Ken Burns’ documentary The Civil War. Bernice Johnson Reagon’s
voice is the anchor; but the others weave in and out like a baroque fugue.
I don’t know whether
they teach “Jacob’s Ladder” in elementary school music segments anymore; too
Judeo-Christian, probably, for the PC crowd. (Actually, I was once rebuked by
someone on the Pundit’s Apprentice’s list for using the term “Judeo-Christian”
because it’s too…something; I forget what. I also forget what was the alleged
preferred replacement because I was too busy waiting to see if this guy was
going to disappear up his own arse. I concluded he must have an even more
pathetic life than I do if he feels the need to throw that kind of crap around
to someone he doesn’t know. In public.) But if they don’t, it’s a pity, because
it’s a great song for rhythm—which, of course is partly the point for songs
that are used in the course of physical labor.
Reagon, Sweet Honey’s
founder, left the group a few years ago; it took two women to replace her.
I took a class from
Reagon at American University in D.C. back in the 90s. As we gathered in the
lecture hall for the first meeting, she walked up to the lectern and began
singing “Wade in the Water”. Every note was solid and heartfelt. It was a
privilege to learn from her.
But I can’t find a
recording of Sweet Honey doing that one, so I’ll give you one of my favorites:
Eva Cassidy.
I am in total awe of
Cassidy’s range, and I love the way she just owns this one.
Recently my BFF sent
me a couple of mementos from her mother, who was my Mama II.
They opened up a whole new aspect of her—and of women—for me. So today I’m
grateful for women who soar.
All this time I’d had
no idea that Mama II loved to fly. The cutthroat-pinochle-playing,
joke-telling, altar guild stalwart learned to fly at a time when it was
something women just didn’t do. She flew bi-planes. I don’t know how many hours
she logged, my friend is still digging around for her logbooks; but it was one
of the defining activities of her life before she married.
Flying small aircraft
isn’t something that appeals to me, but purely for physiological reasons: I get
sick. I’d lose all concentration on that roll, pitch and yaw stuff because I’d be puking;
then I’d crash and my life of romance and adventure would be over. If I didn’t
have that problem, I might have liked to explore the sky. In a small way.
Around the time I
received the bracelet and pin, I was reading a rather sloppily presented
history of American women in WWII. There is a section on women who served in
the various military branches, including as pilots. The writer isn’t
terrifically good, but she did get some splendid material from her subjects.
Cornelia Fort joined
the Women’s Auxiliary Ferry Squadron at its inception, in 1942. She’d been
flying for some time before that. Here’s how she described what flying meant to
her, and what I think might have gone through Mama II's mind:
“None of us can put
into words why we fly. It is something different for each of us. I can’t say
exactly why I fly, but I ‘know’ why as I’ve never known anything in my life.
“I knew it when I saw
my plane silhouetted against the clouds framed by a circular rainbow… I know it
in the dignity and self-sufficiency and in the pride of skill. I know it in the
satisfaction of usefulness.”
Fort was killed in
1943 when one of her colleagues in a flight formation got too close to her, his
landing gear slicing through her left wing. She left a letter to her mother
that included these words:
“I was happiest in
the sky—at dawn when the quietness of the air was like a caress, when the noon
sun beat down and at dusk when the sky was drenched with fading light.”
You must get a
different view of things from the cockpit of a small plane, especially when
you’re in it by yourself. (Many aircraft in those times didn’t have radios;
when you went up, you were absolutely alone.) Women who, like Mama II swept up
into sun-split clouds, who learned the mechanics as part of the price of flight
and braved the derision and discouragement they must have encountered—did it
for the pure joy of it.
We should know more
about them, and let some of that for-the-joy-of-it into our daily lives. And we
should be grateful for their examples.
So today—thank you heaps to Mama II and all those women who
didn’t just live their dreams, they flew them.
Yesterday’s
collaboration took us into the realm of something larger than ourselves, or
beyond ourselves. The jury’s still out for me on this issue of the Higher Power,
but let me just say that I do hope to God that humans are not the highest form
of intelligence around, because that would be a miserable, utterly unfunny joke and we’d be
completely doomed. Um.
Carrying it farther
along, then, let’s listen to Faith Hill’s “Precious Lord, Take My Hand”. This
is pure gospel, a genre I love. I swear—no matter how crabby, pissed off or
depressed you feel, put on a gospel song and you can’t help feeling better.
Possibly because you can’t possibly resist the urge to get up and move to the
music. Once you start moving, you’re on the road to recovery.
There are lots of
recordings of “Precious Lord”, including one by Nina Simone. But I
really get into this one by Hill. It has all the hallmarks of a revival
meeting. Everyone needs a bit of revival every once in a while.
(Sorry about the DiCaprio part; but this is the only vid I could find.)
Another song with a
gospel feel is Curtis Mayfield’s “People Get Ready”. And my favorite cover of
that is by Eva Cassidy.
This is another one
that gets you moving. You are, aren’t you? Because if you’re not, I’m going to
worry…
Yesterday I mentioned
Linda Ronstadt’s collaboration with Dolly Parton and Emmylou Harris. Trio went with me twice across the US. A friend thought that the album might be
monochromatic, so she lent me Ronstadt’s What’s New.
That was the one I
thought banged on a little long on a single style. I really like the blending
of the different voices and styles of the three women, even if I sometimes find
Parton a little over-ornamented.
My favorite cut from Trio is “Farther Along”. I love that old-time Baptist Sunday School piano in it.
I have to say that I’ve
found myself humming it a lot as I wended my way through CorporateLand. I very
seldom ever did, in fact, understand what was going on. But maybe I hadn’t got
farther along enough.