Spotlight On
Although working at my grandfather’s winery over the summer is undoubtedly
one of my all time favorite jobs, the seemingly endless monotony of vine throwing can become tiresome after about the tenth row. Thank you Jesus for the invention of portable media players. My seven-year-old fourth generation iPod may look like it’s barely survived several run-ins with a sand blaster, but its interior still works effectively. Ultimately, that’s really what’s important to me; after all, it’s what’s on the inside that counts, right? Especially when a melodic parade of artists spanning four generations can be found in your guts.
John Denver
Although I have a rather eclectic musical palette, my latest obsession has been the aching tones of wistful female crooners. Luckily, I am not lacking in this department; two of my iPod’s most notable tenants are Patsy Cline and Eva Cassidy. In several ways, Patsy and Eva are very alike. Each has a soulful edge to her voice: while both are capable of a powerhouse soprano, they have duly mastered the mellow meanderings of the more expressive mid-range. Also, both have obtained a very devoted and passionate fan base. Of course, most tragically, both met an untimely end: a plane crash took Patsy’s life at the age of 30 (in anticipation of the regrettable airplane-related death of another country great, John Denver), and Eva died at 33 from melanoma. In addition to their similarities, the distinctions between Patsy and Eva also require recognition and celebration. Eva was reportedly shy and reserved when performing often feeling awkward in front of a crowd. Her mousy demeanor and puppy dog eyes hint at the depths of sorrow from which she extracted each haunting note. On the other hand, Patsy apparently had a very comfortable stage presence that commanded attention. She could be surprisingly brash and was willing to stand up for herself even to concert managers attempting to stiff her out of payment for a performance.
Adele
In fact, if it doesn’t sound too Crazy, I would venture Adele as Patsy’s modern day counterpart despite Patsy’s early origins in the country genre. Adele’s brazen, unapologetic voice and domineering lyrics reflect Patsy’s personality while the tender sentiment of songs like Don’t You Remember emulates her soul. Nevertheless, whereas Adele tends to Set Fire to the Rain with her lyrics, Patsy’s voice is restricted to the melancholy pinings of a broken woman as she Falls to Pieces. I suppose we can just blame that one on their differing time periods.
Patsy Cline
If Patsy is the 1960s complement of Adele then Eva is their unassumingly complacent middle sister. In stark contrast to Patsy who rose to country and pop super-stardom during her life, Eva never achieved much beyond local renown before passing away. Such a bitter realization seems to add to the injustice of her early departure from this life. Yet, it also serves to make Eva refreshing in her own way. Just as Patsy was a counter-culturally bold woman in a time of sanctified reservation, Eva was counter-culturally the exact opposite: a reserved performer in a time of incendiary boldness. Whereas Patsy Cline asserted herself to dominance in a man’s world, Eva was resigned to the shadows of such showy musical legends as Michael Jackson and Madonna. Luckily, despite her muted persona, Eva’s talent has allowed her to gain a following even beyond the grave.
Buddy Holly
It is an unfortunate truth: the nature of these two talents cannot be truly analyzed without contemplating the gravity of the grave and the brevity of their respective careers. Surely the reason why they are still worth our attention today isn’t due to the tragedy of their passing, right? No, I think their clearly demonstrated musical ability is the true impetus that keeps us from saying “It Doesn’t Matter Anymore.” If you are still skeptical, a quick listen to Eva Cassidy’s interpretation of the aforementioned song which another dead-before-his-time singer named Buddy Holly first made popular will undoubtedly change your mind.
Eva Cassidy
It is interesting how one can feel an especially strong attachment to singers who die young, an attachment that extends beyond an appreciation for their talent. It seems that many of us may not have reserved quite the same level of reverence for such singers if not for the abruptness with which they were wrenched away from this life. Is there an extra element of disquieting serenity in hearing Patsy freely bare her vocal soul when her life’s fragility is so undeniably apparent? Is there an additional ounce of heart-wrenching sadness in Eva’s already lachrymose lilt that derives from its short-lived nature? Eva ended her final public performance with “What a Wonderful World.” She knew that she was terminal while she was performing and died a month later. While deliberating on the previous questions, give yourself the appropriate emotional context by following the above link to hear what are possibly Eva’s last recorded notes. The next time you go “Walking After Midnight” (perhaps with Patsy herself or with Eva’s cover) spare a thought for those voices who were silenced far too soon. Perhaps “the weeping willow, crying on his pillow” won’t be the only one shedding a tear for Patsy Cline, Eva Cassidy, and so many others. Thank you very much to fellow lover of “talented women who left us too early,” Jazzdavid, for providing me with the inspiration for this blogpost.
The Palindromic 