What is it with labels? Why do they steady us and make us feel we can take no wrong turn. Are they Hansel and Gretal pebbles that will help us find our way home in the dark?
Of course.. you may gather from my tone as I say ‘us’, I don’t truly mean ‘us’ at all. I mean them. Everyone else is ‘them’ aren’t they. My labels are pertinent, theirs are misguided. Ha.
I have always been labelled. What else is there to do with something as odd as I have always seemed to be. In fairness, I see the differences. I see true oddness in others.
Can you tell, for example, that I have never aspired to a weekly manicure and a brazilian. That it was never about not being able to afford it. That shoes and handbags are not objects of desire for me. That I saw nothing shocking when Julia Roberts raised her arm to wave. That men who shudder at such thoughts appear neutered and sexless to me. That high maintanance women make me feel uneasy and pitying. Thats funny isn’t it.. the very thing that makes them glad they are not me is the thing that in turn, makes me see them as slightly… revolting. Ironic these labels.
Music, and here we go again.
My pet hates for the labels that have been applied to me since I became a recorded singer have been many.
Soul was my first. Hmmm.
Why did I ‘belt’ them out to start with? I shall tell you why. Previous to hooking up with Vince, I had no real studio experience.
I was a live singer, coming from the Basildon Punk scene, and then I ran the same pub curcuit as Doctor Feelgood, Lew Lewis, Wilco Johnson.
The PA was always shit. The Stages small. The drummer set up in your pants. Monitors were for trust fund bands. We had to shout to hear.
That was usually why I made it to the front. Big lungs, me!
UK R&B Shouting, (an entirely different meaning than it holds today) later muted - as I saved my ears in the studio and did battle with the headphones.
Then I tried my ungainly hand on a Billy Holiday song. A little musical discovery I had made tracing a tree that sprouted out from Sonny Boy Williamson and Billy Boy Arnold and Willie B Huff and Ray Charles.
I made a less than astonishing job at it and the bastard was a big hit.
Jazz singer was the next label to plague me. I assisted this by foolishly taking up an offer to sing on tour with a big band, material I had no affection for.
I fancied the crack and they asked me on a wreckless day.
What next?…. they were confusing..it always depended on who was opining.
’80’s Singer Ah yeah.. that’s a git, that one.
Sometimes it’s ‘Has Been, ’80’s singer’…
Sometimes it’s ‘Legendary ’80’s singer…
And everytime it winds me up ( note to self…you are arming them…note back to self…let ‘em).
I went on stage the other day, where someone indroduced me to the audience as ’80’s Singer…’ and I wanted to change my opening shpeel to ”this decade I shall mostly be doing Applique…right now I’d like to show you a lovely little back stitch”…
My mate Nick didn’t think it would go down well…
What is that! Is there any other job where you are defined in such a way?.
I had my tonsils removed by ’50’s Doctor, Adrian Slice.
’70’s journalist Paul Morely, tore me to pieces in a 1850’s newspaper after my disastrous set in front of a predominantly ’50’s audience (that was played in a 00’s venue, which was built in an altogether different century entirely).
’60’s cyclist Lance Armstrong…well thats when he first learned not to fall over on one wasn’t it?
And now…what can it be… some peeps thinks I’m singing show tunes!
AAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!! Preserve us
I wrote some songs for a play that wasn’t a musical. Only some people know it was music that went in a play - which means it had to be a musical, and so…they are show songs, aren’t they?
I don’t know about them. maybe they have been to loads of musicals.
I haven’t, so I don’t get the reference. Are there loads of funeral Hymns on Broadway? Tits and Teeth and a dead mother?
She’s dead and I’m a grieving… my heavy chest is heaving…my lord her soul is leaving and I’m a dancing to that beat….la la la
No!…this is not my song but it may as well have been.
Alison did a show once didn’t she? she wrote some songs and they were in a play…she’s gotta be a musical theatre Turn now…surely!….label, label…whats the sodding label!!!
For those of you drowning in a sea of modern R&B. Asinine pop for the naked generation. For those of you not still desperate to run with the yoof. I will give you a label.
The Turn is an album of fine songs, well sung and intelligently produced, written in collaboration with a ’70’s Doctor of medicine, by someone of the generation that remembers Roy Orbison and …… other people.. whose names I have not collected in my memory, but whose musical legacy throbs yet in my veins.
If you are content that I know I am not beautiful - by all the standards that are given us today, and are satisfied that I can own up to that…then delight for me in the fact that I absolutely know these songs float like hope….. If you can’t…..why then you’re just plain ugly.
In a grip of people, society’s nature is to feel the need to be co-dependent. Of those addictive co-dependencies, finding comfort in the collective, or mind mimicing what the media believes polarizing to one ‘label’ or another. People do have need to find similarity to something else, as if there is no such thing as uniqueness or new thoughts in this world. It’s a sort of laziness that occurs when a child grows up and stops dreaming or thinking outside the box.
No, I’m not going there deeply, but I have battled this my whole entire life. I am content in the mischief that I supposedly create, though calmly, I sit and know internally that I am just simply being me, and the fact that they have their own experiences in which they must create my persona by, I am thrilled to no end that they cannot figure me out. My box of crayons has a few extra colors in it.
In essence, for us internal thinkers, it’s more satisfying to know that we are who we know we are, and equally without the need for satisfaction of others to be approving of that. For them, it’s their loss. Ugly is profoundly correct. I have known many o’ beautiful assholes in my lifetime. Many just don’t ‘get’ it, and never will.
here’s my “label” to you…..natural vocalist that could soothe me by singing the phonebook, how’s that? a raw talent not boxed in by convential boarders..huh?….one hell of a singer…to the point huh?
a buxom broad with one hell of a set of pipes….i could go on but i’ll stop now…..
Odd, I would have labeled you a 60’s Essex Sewing Machine over an 80’s Singer.
Label me a “fan,” and I will cool down the room for you, while you’re backstitching and basting. Label me a “Yank” and I’ll rip out the old threads.
Somebody stop me!
xoxo
Dan in FLA (formerly in LA)
I’m with you there Rob4. Many a true word…Thank you.
Russell…it’s lovely to have you back : )meant to say that before..
Even a ‘fan’ Dan, and Hello (smiles), is not an exclusive label. It could be a fan of many things. Why not call me 60’s singer (we had one of those machines too. My mother very nearly finished me a kingfisher blue safari suit on it, and then I had a growth spurt).it is more accurate…it was then I mastered ‘Jacob’s Ladder’.
la la la la la la la xxxxxxxxx
Labels aren’t much fun, true…have you ever been referred to as “a singer’s singer”? That one makes me crazy…what does it even mean? Patti Austin gets that one a lot, I guess because she too can shine in any number of musical styles, but it makes no sense. I think perhaps it’s the critic’s way of espousing her great artistry while also acknowledging that her commercial success doesn’t match that of other, less-skilled singers…or some such crap. Who cares, you’re GIFTED, BEAUTIFUL, INTELLIGENT and a MASTER ARTIST!!!
Please label me Fan #2 (danfla called it first), or, if thou wilt, label danfla FAN #1 and me FAN #A…
I don’t notice labels much anyway these days, as my eyes are closed, wishing for time to speed up and THE TURN to arrive…lots of love from Los Angeles, you luscious lady!
Alison - Labels plague even we minions not in the entertainment world. I all but turn rabid when I see someone from the past who, because they haven’t seen me in a while, thinks I have stood still in time. It is terrifying to be remembered for an off-the-hand remark or for an item of clothing. I’ve long since moved on from high school, verging on 30 now, and I have been through university and the corporate world, burst through many bubbles. We all change, don’t we? Labels, then, are contrary to social phenomena and fact. It is indeed a sad twat who compatmentalises human existence into fraudulent categories.
Completely unrelated - Adored “Bilan” on HOMETIME and am eagerly anticipating the release of THE TURN.
http://winterskieskitchenaglow.blogspot.com/
The only label I could give is “a woman who blew me away from the very first moment I knew about her”. You mention beauty, or what you consider lack of, which I think I understand the feeling behind it. You have a beauty which i cannot explain, you enchant, inspire, lift.
Without trying to make both us us feel old, after over 25 years of having your abilities around I can safely say you have been the most important writer/singer/personality in my life!(Yazoo features still big in that, which makes me sound like some crazy guy lost in the 80’s, but its more than that. I remember well contacting mute records in the early days of 83 pushing for Siutuation to be released in the UK…I would love to hear a new rendition of Midnight…even acapella so we can’t label it, or is Acapella a label…ha, ha!).
I don’t know what I’m trying to say here except that I beleive beauty is not a face or a look, but you are beautiful, in every way!
If yer gonna be labelled (and that is part and parcel with this dualistic experience, int it?), how about transcendent?
Labels are simply marketing tools. Ways to get people to shell out $1500 (pounds or $3000USD!) for a sweater. Which, btw, better come with it’s own herd of sheep and posse of knitters to make me three or maybe seven more for that price!
I so enjoyed that post. My comment is really about the beautiful part at the end of the post. I appreciate the humility but, doll, you’re the whole lovely package.
I want to share a memory. Los Angeles, Wiltern Theater, late 80s or early 90s. I used to be one of those obsessive music people who could remember exact dates but a couple of kids and cresting 40…not to mention all the drugs & alcohol along the way…it’s pretty clear I’m catching the Alzheimer’s.
Anyway, Wiltern Theater. You’re onstage. Belting out some tune and we (the audience) are actually on our feet (rare for an LA audience) dancing, singing along. When this 30-something woman leaps on to the stage. She sniffs your neck. Stuffs her head between your breasts. Then works her way down your body until she’s clutching an ankle. We (the audience) are cheering her on. You’re singing still but now with a big smile. Finally, some fella comes from the side stage, gently prys her fingers from your ankle and takes her off.
Don’t know if you recall that moment or not. I would guess it’s not everyday a lady gets groped by a middle-aged lesbian (while onstage anyway).
Best,
-samantha
ps - when are you coming back to LA?