This Week's Bio: Dusty - An Intimate Portrait of a Musical Legend

Too many people don't know that you can check books out of the New York Public Library electronically for up to 21 days and read them on a special app they provide -- or Kindle!

I've just begun this week's read -- Dusty, a biography on the British blue-eyed soul singer Dusty Springfield by Karen Bartlett.  Already, it's starting to freak me out -- probably because her self-loathing is so all-consuming, it's almost tangible.  She was this chubby redheaded sexually repressed/lesbian Irish Catholic girl named Mary who was obsessed with all things America especially Black music. She desperately wanted to be black so it shouldn't have been a surprise that one day she woke up and decided to be someone else.

Clearly, this will not end well.

I can remember hating myself a lot. That hate lived in me much longer than it should have.  Thank God I found my way to a great big wide world of inner peace and love or I would have hated myself too much to allow any real happiness or accomplish much of anything.

It's nice that the world got re-introduced to this song because of Pulp Fiction's soundtrack.

Billy Ray was a preacher's son
And when his daddy would visit he'd come along
When they gathered around and started talkin'
That's when Billy would take me walkin'
Out through the back yard we'd go walkin'
Then he'd look into my eyes
Lord knows, to my surprise

The only one who could ever reach me
Was the son of a preacher man
The only boy who could ever teach me
Was the son of a preacher man
Yes he was, he was, ooh, yes he was

Bein' good isn't always easy
No matter how hard I try
When he started sweet-talkin' to me
He'd come'n tell me "Everything is all right"
He'd kiss and tell me "Everything is all right"
Can I get away again tonight?

The only one who could ever reach me
Was the son of a preacher man
The only boy who could ever teach me
Was the son of a preacher man
Yes he was, he was, ooh, yes he was (yes he was)

How well I remember
The look that was in his eyes
Stealin' kisses from me on the sly
Takin' time to make time
Tellin' me that he's all mine
Learnin' from each other's knowin'
Lookin' to see how much we've grown and

The only one who could ever reach me
Was the son of a preacher man
The only boy who could ever teach me
Was the son of a preacher man
Yes he was, he was, oh yes he was

He was the sweet-talkin' son of a preacher man
(The only boy who could ever teach me)
Was the son of a preacher man
(The only one who could ever reach me)
Was the sweet-talkin' son of a preacher man

Two for Tuesday: Dionne Farris!

I can't be the only one that was left wondering as to what happened to Dionne Farris after she blew up in 1993 with Wild Seed, Wild Flower.  As it turns out, it was the usual major label hi-jinks.  She didn't release a follow-up until 2011.  Thanks to the worldwide exposure that her major label debut gave her, she'll have a fine career with her own label. So there's that.

Here's the first single from the album -- and a bonus live shot: a Dionne Warwick duet with guitarist Charlie Hunter.

I know what you're doing yeah yeah
I know why you dialed my number
I know what you're doing yeah yeah
I know why you care

I know what you're doing yeah yeah
I know why you say you love me
I know what you're doing yeah yeah
And I don't think it's fair

I know why you dialed my number
I know why you say you're mine
I know what you're doing,

And it's not, gonna work, this time (2)

I know what you're doing yeah yeah
I can never sing in that key
I know what you're doing yeah yeah
And you're the one to blame

I know what you're doing yeah yeah
I know why you can't forgive me
I know why you're singing lost love
The lyrics haven't changed

1-I can recognize the symptoms
You should know I've changed my mind
I know what you're doing
And it's not, gonna work this time
Hey hey hey, said it's not gonna work this time...

I know what you're doing, baby
I know why you call my name
I know why you say you love me
but I can't say the same
(repeat 1)

Sunday Sermonette: Sister Rosetta Tharpe -- That's All

Here's more of Sister Rosetta Tharpe -- guitar slinger, songwriter, vocalist, gospel shouter and rock and roll trailblazer -- burning it down as usual in Paris (where else?) with the gospel number That's All.

She is, without question, the undisputed Godmother of Rock and Roll.  To watch a pretty cool documentary about her life and times so you'll know why, click here.

Video of this lady in action is rare. Listen in and be blessed.

I'm gonna tell you the natural facts
That a man don't understand the good book right and that's all
That's all

You know what?
We got to have more love
More understanding everyday of our lives
And that's all
Yeah

When you see folks jump from this or that
They don't know they don't know where the devil's at
That's all
That's all

They got to have more love, more understanding
Everyday of their lives I tell ya that's all

Listen, people fighting one another
And think they're doing swell
And all they want is your money
And you can go to heeeeyyyyy

That's all
That's all

Ya'll got to have religion, yeah, I tell ya that's all
Now you can go to the college
Go to the schools
You ain't got no religion you an educated fool
That's all
Yeah, that's all

He got to have more love, more understanding
Everyday of our lives and that's all 

Sunday Sermonette: The Caravans -- "Lord Keep Me Day By Day"

When it's time for me to perform country gospel songs for an HAI gig in the city, there are certain groups that never fail to inspire me. This classic gospel song was recorded by Florida Mass Choir, Willie Neal Johnson & The Gospel Keynotes, Dorothy Norwood and a few others. I especially like this one from The Caravans -- a group that launched the careers of legendary gospel greats Rev. James Cleveland, Albertina Walker, Shirley Caesar, Josephine Howard and many more.

Those of you in the peanut gallery who are actually paying attention already know that Ms. Howard is the one and only Miki I Found Love Under New Management Howard's mother.  So there's that.

Listen in and be blessed.

Lord, Keep Me Day By Day  (written by Eddie Williams)

Lord, keep me day by day,
in a pure, and perfect way.
I want to live, I want to live on
in a building not made by hand.

Lord, keep my body strong
so that I can do no wrong.
Lord, give me grace just to run this Christian race
to a building not made by hand.

I'm just a stranger here,
traveling through this barren land.
Lord, I know there's a building somewhere,
in a building not made by hand.

Sunday Sermonette: Edwin Hawkins and The Edwin Hawkins Singers -- "I Believe"

This song -- commissioned by pre-war singer/actress Jane Froman in 1953 for her tv show The Jane Froman Show as a response to the Korean War -- was the first hit song ever introduced on television. She said wanted to give people hope.  I don't know if it worked but it's a popular and enduring song that transcends genres.  Everyone -- and I mean everyone -- has covered it, from Elvis Presley to Frank Sinatra to Mahalia Jackson to Dolly Parton. 

Interestingly, Ms. Froman -- an educated Midwesterner (from Columbia, Missouri), a classically trained vocalist (Cincinnati Conservatory of Music), a genuine Hollywood movie star and a chronic stutterer  -- has not one but three stars on the Hollywood Walk of Fame.

I've heard this song before, quite a lot. I don't like it or dislike it.  It's just there, like pleasant aural wallpaper.  Kinda pre-hippyish in this deliberate way that's so sincere, it's not schmaltzy at all. 

It's like that song Misty: You know it even if you think you don't know it. You don't quite know how you know it or when you learned it. It's just there, stuck in your head, like an earworm you carried into the world at birth.

What better gospel choir to do this song justice than the iconic Edwin Hawkins Singers?

Listen in and be blessed.

 Lyrics:

I believe for every drop of rain that falls
A flower grows,
I believe that somewhere in the darkest night
A candle glows,
I believe for everyone who goes astray,
Someone will come to show the way,
I believe, I believe.

I believe above the storm a smallest prayer
Will still be heard,
I believe that someone in the great somewhere
Hears every word,
Every time I hear a newborn baby cry,
Or touch a leaf, or see the sky,
Then I know why,
I believe.

Every time I hear a newborn baby cry,
Or touch a leaf, or see the sky,
Then I know why,
I believe.

Sunday Sermonette: Bob Dylan -- "Serve Somebody"

I had a real chip on my shoulder ever since I can remember about Bob Dylan because everybody talked about him like he was some kind of almighty but whenever I listened to his voice, it went through my head like a nail.  He's not a vocalist, he's a poet, everyone would say. I just couldn't hear the words. His voice was in the way.   And then I tripped up over Tangled Up In Blue on Napster a million years ago when everyone was listening to Napster and couldn't stop clicking repeat. Actually, I still can't hear that song without fighting the urge to hear it again and again.  It's like I'm overhearing this jagged, random, scattered conversation with someone else that's so full of feeling and wonder and his voice, it moves me so. And then it's over. And I don't want to be over.  So I click repeat.

That's how I found Manu Chao, too. Napster! And I'm still crazy about him. I have dreams about writing music with him, collaborating with him, running away to South America with him to make beautiful art. But that's another story.

So now that I can hear the poetry inside of the sound of his voice, I don't hump his leg feverishly like the rest of the world does but I have to admit, there are moments when I hold him in my arms.  This is one of them.

Contrary to popular opinion., there's a lot of beautiful gospel in secular music. I'll be featuring some of it here in the next few weeks. I quite like this song because it's a complex subject (for some) and yet his delivery is so nursery school simple and straightforward, it's almost sing-songy.

You may be an ambassador to England or France
You may like to gamble, you might like to dance
You may be the heavyweight champion of the world
You may be a socialite with a long string of pearls.

But you're gonna have to serve somebody, yes indeed
You're gonna have to serve somebody,
It may be the devil or it may be the Lord
But you're gonna have to serve somebody.

Might be a rock'n' roll adict prancing on the stage
Might have money and drugs at your commands, women in a cage
You may be a business man or some high degree thief
They may call you Doctor or they may call you Chief.

But you're gonna have to serve somebody, yes indeed
You're gonna have to serve somebody,
Well, it may be the devil or it may be the Lord
But you're gonna have to serve somebody.

You may be a state trooper, you might be an young turk
You may be the head of some big TV network
You may be rich or poor, you may be blind or lame
You may be living in another country under another name.

But you're gonna have to serve somebody, yes
You're gonna have to serve somebody,
Well, it may be the devil or it may be the Lord
But you're gonna have to serve somebody.

You may be a construction worker working on a home
You may be living in a mansion or you might live in a dome
You might own guns and you might even own tanks
You might be somebody's landlord you might even own banks.

But you're gonna have to serve somebody, yes
You're gonna have to serve somebody,
Well, it may be the devil or it may be the Lord
But you're gonna have to serve somebody.

You may be a preacher with your spiritual pride
You may be a city councilman taking bribes on the side
You may be working in a barbershop, you may know how to cut hair
You may be somebody's mistress, may be somebody's heir.

But you're gonna have to serve somebody, yes
You're gonna have to serve somebody,
Well, it may be the devil or it may be the Lord
But you're gonna have to serve somebody.

Might like to wear cotton, might like to wear silk
Might like to drink whiskey, might like to drink milk
You might like to eat caviar, you might like to eat bread
You may be sleeping on the floor, sleeping in a king-sized bed.

But you're gonna have to serve somebody, yes indeed
You're gonna have to serve somebody,
It may be the devil or it may be the Lord
But you're gonna have to serve somebody.

You may call me Terry, you may call me Jimmy
You may call me Bobby, you may call me Zimmy
You may call me R.J., you may call me Ray
You may call me anything but no matter what you say.

You're gonna have to serve somebody, yes indeed
You're gonna have to serve somebody,
Well, it may be the devil or it may be the Lord
But you're gonna have to serve somebody.

It's Black Jesus -- on Palm Sunday!

I'm not a fan of Andrew Lloyd Webber or his musicals per se but I love Jesus Christ Superstar and I especially love this song Hosanna.

Here's a snippet of an interview with Mr. Webber discussing the beginnings of Jesus Christ Superstar.  Interesting that it was written as a rock album and they had never intended for it to be a musical. 



Here's the song in performance.

 

...and here's the song itself.



CROWD

Hosanna
Hey Sanna Sanna Sanna Hosanna
Hey Sanna Hosanna
Hey JC, JC won't you smile at me?
Sanna Hosanna
Hey Superstar

CAIAPHAS

Tell the rabble to be quiet, we anticipate a riot.
This common crowd, is much too loud.
Tell the mob who sing your song that they are fools and they are wrong.
They are a curse. They should disperse.

CROWD

Hosanna
Hey Sanna Sanna Sanna Hosanna
Hey Sanna Hosanna
Hey JC, JC you're alright by me
Sanna Hosanna
Hey Superstar

JESUS

Why waste your breath moaning at the crowd?
Nothing can be done to stop the shouting.
If every tongue were stilled
The noise would still continue.
The rocks and stone themselves would start to sing:

CROWD AND JESUS

Hosanna
Hey Sanna Sanna Sanna Hosanna
Hey Sanna Hosanna

CROWD (alone)

Hey JC, JC won't you fight for me?
Sanna Hosanna Hey Superstar

JESUS

Sing me your songs,
But not for me alone.
Sing out for yourselves,
For you are bless-ed.
There is not one of you
Who can not win the kingdom.
The slow, the suffering,
The quick, the dead.

CROWD and JESUS

Hosanna
Hey Sanna Sanna Sanna Hosanna
Hey Sanna Hosanna

CROWD (alone)

Hey JC, JC won't you die for me?
Sanna Hosanna Hey Superstar

Sunday Sermonette - Rev. Shirley Caesar

...and now, a testimonial and an uplifting word in song from The Right Revrend Shirley Caesar, a gospel legend. I love it that this song is basically a waltz. Maybe that's why it sounds like it wants to be a country song. The trills from the piano only heighten the twangy effect.

Listen in and be blessed.



No Charge

My sister's little boy came in the kitchen one evening
while she was fixing supper
and he handed her a piece paper he had been writing on
and after wiping her hands on an apron
She took it in her hands and read it
and this is what it said:

For mowing the yard $5
And for making up my own bed this week $1
For going to the store $.50
And playing with little brother while you went shopping $.25
Taking out the trash $1
And for getting a good report card $5
And for raking the yard $2
Total owed $14.75

Well she looked at him standing there and expecting
And a thousand memories flashed through her mind
So she picked up pen and turned the paper over and this is what she wrote:

For the 9 months I carried you holding you inside me $ NO CHARGE
For the nights I sat up with doctored you and prayed for you $ NO CHARGE
For the time and tears and the costs through the years
There is NO CHARGE
When you add it all up the full cost of my love is $ NO CHARGE

For the nights filled with grey
And the worries ahead
For the advice and the knowledge
And the costs of your college
$ NO CHARGE
For the toys, school, and clothes
And for wiping your nose
There's NO CHARGE son
When you add it all the full cost of my love is NO CHARGE

Well you know when I think about that
I think about the day that Jesus went out to Calvary and gave his life as a ransom for me
When I think on the words "If Any Man be in Christ He's A New Creature"
I like to think about the very minute that he shedded his blood
My debt was paid in full
And I want you to know today
when you add it all up
The full cost of Real Love is NO CHARGE

Black Country Gold -- with The Pointer Sisters (and Elvis)!

I can't even begin to tell you how often I sat next to my Uncle Tyrone's stereo in his den as a small child, casually thumbing through his extensive album collection until my fingers happened upon this album and then I stared and stared and stared.  The Pointer Sisters were such a huge watermark for me in so many ways -- for style, for panache, for the way they embodied the past and yet were so much a part of the now.  I must have memorized every nuance that I saw in this picture an effort to absorb just the slightest bit of that elan.  They were as brown as me and they reveled in their blackness in this really deliberate way that was just as powerful and authentic as a well-coiffed Afro and a fist in the air. And I loved them for it.  Actually, I still do.

In my mind's eye, I am the fifth one at that table and they are the sisters I never had.

As the story goes, they couldn't afford designer items for their first album cover and they didn't have a stylist to borrow them, so they raided their mother's attic, wore their grandmother's clothes and came up with something beautiful and timeless.  Sounds exactly like me. When I came to New York City, I had nothing to sing in, so I'd raid Domsey's on a regular basis. Only $5 for a vintage cocktail dress. Ha. Even I could afford that.

This country song -- Fairytale, written by Anita (lyrics) and Bonnie (music) -- is one of my favorites.  It sounds so upbeat and it's full of heartbreak and misery. (Perfect!) Everyone in the industry was genuinely surprised that they wrote this -- except them, of course.  Sure, they grew up in Oakland, California -- but as it turns out, their parents are from Arkansas (!!!) and they've always sung country music.  This wasn't the only country song they recorded, either.

The stats? In 1974, The Pointer Sisters won a Grammy for Best Country Vocal Performance by a Duo or Group and Anita and Bonnie were nominated for a Grammy for Best Country Song. And then Elvis covered it the following year. (Ka-BOOM.)

Thank Jesus all of my uncles had really great taste when it came to music.



Here's The Pointer Sisters, singing it live. I just looooove the way they look -- the flowers, the make-up, all of it.  I know stylewise I'm leaning ever so slightly in this direction when I perform. I just can't help it.



...and here's Elvis, singing it in full on drugged out Vegas glitterati pantsuit regalia -- giving it his all.  Interesting, to hear a male voice sing it.  And even though he's kind of out of it, he's still got it. Go, Elvis.

Lyrics:

I'll pack up all my things and walk away,
I don't want to hear another word you have to say
I've been waiting for so long,
And just found out there's something wrong
Nothing will get better if I stay
There's no need to explain anymore
I tried my best to love you,
Now I'm walkin' out the door
(Walkin' out the door)
You used me, you deceived me,
And you never seem to need me
But I bet, you won't forget me when I go

Oh no, no, no

Seems I've been lost in a dream
Pretending that you care
But now I've opened up my eyes
And found it's all been just a great big fairytale
I've been lovin' you so long
Don't think I even know how to forget you
But now the way that things have been
I think I'm better off alone than to be with you
You don't love me it's plain to see

There's no need to explain anymore
I tried my best to love you,
Now I'm walkin' out the door
(Walkin' out the door)
Ahh, you used me, you deceived me,
And you never seem to need me
But I'll bet you won't forget me when I go
Oh no, no, no

Seems I've been lost in a dream
Pretending you were mine
Someday you'll open up your eyes
And realize that a good woman's hard to find
Yes I've been lost in a dream
Pretending that you care
But now I've opened up my eyes
And found it's all been just a great big fairytale

surprise!

i'm on pandora - finally, at long last. if boxing conditioning class hadn't worn me out so thoroughly this evening, i could almost get off my sofa, stand up straight in my polka-dot underwear and do a snoopy happy dance in the privacy in my own living room. for the moment, all i can do is thank God and stretch out my legs. wheeeee!

it's my black americana cd talkin' fishbowl blues that made the cut, by the way. i'll be submitting the jazz cd what is love? later this week.

i'm elated (and somewhat relieved) because i now have a presence on the music genome project's massive global configuration machine that everyone seems plugged into so passionately. i can't hardly get past the commercials but i did get lost in some gram parsons the other day that made my afternoon ethereal and glowy and somehow more complete. and when i think about it slowly, it would be worth it to pay a little cash money and get rid of those ads, especially since i do so love to spend my mornings listening to music while i write and write and write.

what am i writing? well,there's blogging. there's also emails and stuff. i have beautiful pen pals. there's plenty of rewrites for the alberta hunter project that i'm developing in the workshop i mentioned earlier. there's also another song cycle that will get recorded this month at the maid's room if everything works out musicianwise, to be released in the spring. the lyrics are turning out to be much heavier than i thought, probably because i'm letting them come out of me all by themselves.

all of it is such a great escape. i'm kind of giddy to see where all of this leads.