This is the time of year you wish would hurry up and be over — gray skies, bitter cold, and relative isolation can breed a mood of melancholy, even if the news headlines were not enough to bring you down.
The sudden death of Whitney Houston is one of those headlines; the circumstances of her death are as yet not completely explained but in a sad way, her early passing is not so surprising. Her years of substance abuse, domestic turbulence, and downward spiral have been all too well documented.
But oh, how lovely was her golden voice, how beautiful was she, and how glorious was that scene when Kevin Costner swept her off her feet in “The Bodyguard.” Like the Rhett Butler-Scarlett O’Hara staircase scene in “Gone With the Wind,” it was one of those seminal moments in film that made thousands of female hearts go pitter-pat. Houston made the leap from songstress to actress, but it was her voice, nurtured in a Newark church choir, that made her so magnificent.
Houston’s songs are like a soundtrack interwoven not only into my life, but also into the lives of my children, especially the girls. Katie reminded me of how she used to make me play the song, “I Will Always Love You,” over and over again as we rode together in my little blue Honda Civic, my first car, long resigned to the recycle bin for automobiles. Katie was all of three years old when the song first burst onto the music scene in 1993, the same year Molly was born; Katie was about seven when she fell in love with the song, and we would belt it out together riding on our road trips through town, with Molly strapped into a car seat and Will not yet on the scene.
How sad that Houston will not be around to make a special appearance on the Grammys or win a Lifetime Achievement Award in the same way Glen Campbell did last week. Campbell had the audience standing on its feet with his performance of “Rhinestone Cowboy,” probably the best known in a series of hits that made him one of the most popular singers of the 1960s and ’70s. I am sure not even one of his songs would be on any kid’s playlist today. But oh, how his songs, especially “Southern Nights,” “Country Boy,” and of course, “Rhinestone Cowboy” bring back memories of my childhood and teenage years.
Last year the pop and country singer revealed that he was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease. While he is living valiantly in the face of decline, his family has shared stories of the moments when he appears not to recognize who they are. To see one of the golden-haired icons of my childhood appearing so old reminded me of my own advancing years — when you see your girlhood crushes aging in front of you, how can you deny your own mortality?
Even the appearance by the Beach Boys — another great Grammy moment — was punctuated by feelings of wow, why do they look so old? I am not criticizing — God bless them for reuniting, finally, and reminding us of why their songs are so timeless. In the world of their music, it is endless summer, and life is all about sun, surf, and vibrant youth.
The best Grammy moment of the night, however, was provided by Adele, rocking it with “Rolling in the Deep,” the song that helped her sweep all six awards in her nominated categories. There is something deeply primal about the drumbeat in the background. It sounds like ancient tom-toms calling warriors to the bonfire, or it could be the steady beating of the human heart. Whatever it is, it is cool, so very cool, and it is no wonder the song roared to the top of the charts and stayed there.
It’s not just her gravelly one-of-a kind voice that makes me like Adele so much, but her attitude toward life, especially in the context of stupid words directed at her last week by a stupid man, Karl Lagerfeld, the head designer for the house of Chanel.
Last week he criticized Adele as being “too fat.” You could practically hear the forks dropping at tables around the globe as young girls who want to emulate the emaciated, stick-thin figures on magazine covers received yet another blow to their health and body image.
Thank God Adele seems to have as good a head on her shoulders as her golden voice pipes. To Lagerfeld’s idiotic statement, which he loudly protested as being taken out of context (it appears Mitt Romney foot-in-mouth disease is contagious), she responded, “I’ve never wanted to look like models on the cover of magazines. I represent the majority of women and I’m very proud of that.”
Yay! You go, girl! My wish is that Adele rides the crest of her fame wisely and gives us the joy of her voice for years to come. Perhaps we will one day celebrate her Lifetime Achievement Award, something Whitney Houston should have had the opportunity to look forward to. So in the middle of dreary February, thank you, Adele, Glen, and the boys of summer, for giving us bright spots and reason to cheer.
