Tag: Linda Ronstadt

After the Gold Rush

Today’s title is an old Neil Young song that I first heard as a cover by Prelude in 1974, and then again by Dolly Parton, Emmylou Harris, and Linda Ronstadt on their Trio II album, which is the best version in my opinion. Their harmonies are angelic, you know? The song’s lyrics are apocalyptic and strange, but also very beautiful. It actually inspired a novel I’ve never gotten to; one of those a bunch of college kids visit a ghost town in the California mountains and end up being picked off one by one type novels, but maybe someday I’ll get back to it. One never knows. I also figured out what to do with Sorceress and its unfinished sequel this weekend, too, which is very exciting. It was a pretty good weekend after all, wasn’t it?

I did feel a bit groggy yesterday morning, and it was overcast, which didn’t help get me motivated to wake up and get moving, and I was still a bit groggy and unmotivated when I got to the office. It wasn’t a slow day, but it wasn’t a busy day, either. I did hit a wall around noon, but after eating lunch I kind of had my strength and energy back so I made it through the day. I stopped and made a small bit of groceries on my home, and had every intention of doing chores when I got home–but my easy chair and Sparky made short work of that. Paul worked at home yesterday, so he came down and we finished watching The Night Agent, which we both enjoyed before going to bed last night. I feel pretty good this morning–didn’t want to get up, like always–but I am not achy and sore.

While I was watching television last night, I started paging through Jackson Square Jazz and thinking, hmm, this sentence is awkward and wouldn’t write it that way now here and there, so maybe I should go through and do a revision before getting it formatted and so forth. I was always hesitant about revising my old work–what’s done is done has always been my theory–but now I’m wondering if I should? There’s also a lot going on in that book, almost like I threw everything into it but the kitchen sink. It was more layered and deeper than Bourbon Street Blues, which was just a caper adventure. It was also nice seeing how much Scotty’s voice has changed over the years as he’s grown and matured; he was kind of a Peter Pan type, just enjoying his life and not thinking about the future–or worrying about it, too.

We’re going to be busy in the clinic today, so I will probably be tired when I get home tonight. I had to jump through a couple of hoops first, but I was able to get a new appointment to see my GI specialist–the expensive medication needs a renewal, or maybe I’ll be changed to something else, who knows? It’s hard to believe at this time last year was when I got so terribly and horribly sick. It seems like longer than a year ago to me, but time has that weird ability to seem either short or long, doesn’t it?

And on that note, I am going to head into the spice mines. Have a lovely Tuesday, Constant Reader, and I’ll check back in with you again tomorrow morning on Pay-the-Bills Wednesday.

When Will I Be Loved

I have always been a huge fan of Linda Ronstadt’s. That voice.

My God, that voice.

So, a couple of weekends ago I was looking for documentaries to put on while Paul went in and out of sleep on the couch, I was stunned to realize I’d never seen the documentary Linda Ronstadt: The Sound of My Voice, as a life-long fan–I’d always intended to, but had just never gotten around to it, plus the loss of her voice to Parkinson’s was an enormous tragedy I didn’t want to revisit (just as Julie Andrews losing her instrument was also a tragedy). But Ronstadt is indelibly a part of my adolescence in the 1970s. The first time I became aware of her was “You’re No Good,” which blew my socks off. I couldn’t get over the nasty blues guitar and that voice! So effortless, so powerful, so beautiful. This was also around the time I started appreciating vocal talents, and women in particular who could sing beautifully. Women were also slowly starting to make their presence felt in a field (rock) that was traditionally male dominated, and Ronstadt was a leader in that way; filling stadiums and arenas all over the country.

Ronstadt’s voice was incredible. Over the course of her lengthy career she basically proved she could sing anything; from country to pop to rock to Spanish language traditional Mexican music to operettas to big band music. She didn’t write her own music but was what was considered a “stylist”; she would take someone else’s song, and sing it her way, which was almost always better than the original. Not many people can cover Smokey Robinson, the Rolling Stones, Elvis Costello, and the Eagles (she also was inadvertently responsible for the formation of the Eagles). She was a huge star, and once she was filling stadiums and filthy rich, she wanted to try other things as a singer despite everyone thinking it would be a career-ending disaster only to continue racking up awards, critical raves, and big big sales. Her album with Aaron Neville, Howl Like a Rainstorm Cry Like the Wind is one of my favorites of all time; the way those two beautiful voices harmonize and wrap around each other is exceptional.

She was also the original woman rock star who never married, either–she chose career and music over marriage and children (Stevie Nicks did, too). The film, which traces her career and features clips of her singing live or recording in the studio makes you realize just how potent and powerful her instrument was. SHe never listened to her own recordings because she was hyper-critical of herself; when she said “when I listen to my own singing I just hear the things I could have done better”–which is also what I used to say about rereading my own work. I still tend to see the things I could have done better when I reread my own work but it doesn’t shame me the way it used to. I eventually had to realize that if I am indeed continuing to grow as a writer, obviously my old work would be written differently today because I am a different writer.

But I do strongly recommend this documentary if you haven’t seen it. If you’re a fan, it’s amazing; if you’re not, you’ll probably become one after watching–her catalogue is truly astonishing.

I used to have this poster of her hanging in my bedroom when I was in high school.