Sunday, October 6, 2013

My Music: Linda Ronstadt (Part One)

I first heard Linda Ronstadt's voice when I was in sixth grade and a song called "Different Drum" by the group Stone Poneys came on the radio.  I was an avid radio listener and reader of all things music, and knew that the Monkee Mike Nesmith had written this curious song about a girl turning down marriage because she listened to a different drum (I didn't know the Thoreau reference at the time.) The song wasn't a hit, and was soon forgotten.

Early in my sophomore year of high school, Linda surfaced again singing a haunting ballad called "Long, Long Time."  The clarity of the voice and the emotion caught my adolescent self, and I actually can remember the day I stopped after school in Woolworth's at Kamms Corner to buy the single before getting on the bus back to North Olmsted.  I am sure I listened to it a dozen times when I got home.  I couldn't get enough of the despair and grief she brought to the song through her vocals.

But it wouldn't be until the winter of 1974-75 that Linda would make her way into my music life permanently.  It was with the release of her album Heart Like a Wheel that Linda became a huge star; but that wasn't why I liked her.  The single "You're No Good" was a giant hit, but I didn't even like it that much.  In fact, it was my mother who pointed out to me how repetitive and boring the song was, and how she was practically shouting her way through it.  I couldn't deny either of these observations.


Lowell George & Linda Ronstadt
Heart Like a Wheel started me on a musical odyssey based on Linda's song selections.  On Heart the standout to me was the Hank Williams classic "I Can't Help It" (If I'm Still in Love With You).  That was the song I listened to over and over again.  I was not familiar with Hank Williams -- I didn't know his musical legacy in country music or any of his other great songs.  Linda gave me an introduction to Hank, but also to Emmylou Harris who sang harmony on the recording.  I didn't know much about Emmylou, but later that year would scour the town for her first solo record, as well as her recordings with Gram Parson.  Here is a live version of Linda and Emmylou singing Hank from back in the day.

That wasn't all, though.  The album contained songs by writers and singers I already knew -- James Taylor, Paul Anka, Phil Everly. But it also introduced to me to the formidable songwriting skills of J. D. Souther ("Faithless Love"),  Anna McGarrigle ("Heart Like a Wheel"), and Lowell George  of Little Feat ("Willin').  Eventually, I would go on to buy every Little Feat album -- George being their front man and jester until his untimely death in 1979, just two months after I saw him perform live.

Speaking of live performances, I believe it was in late winter/early spring of 1975 I went to see Linda perform at the Allen Theater.  What I remember from the evening is that Livingston Taylor opened the show and played longer than Linda did.  I was somewhat disappointed in Linda's scant and nervous performance.  Now that I have read her memoir, I understand she was nervous and didn't feel like she had much of a show.  By the next summer she would be playing larger venues, such as Blossom Music Center, and even with a longer show I still felt like there wasn't much enjoyment for her.  I can still remember her belting out "Heat Wave" at the end and it just felt so...wrong.  I decided just to stick with the recordings, which I was deeply loving.

In August 1975, Prisoner in Disguise was released to great acclaim. The song that touched me the most was Dolly Parton's "I Will Always Love You."  I knew of Parton, but not this song.  When I took the Studio B tour in Nashville last summer, I learned that Dolly wrote this song as well as "Jolene" the same day, right there in the studio.  By the way, Elvis Presley had wanted to record "I Will Always Love You" but his manager was demanding half the publishing rights, which Dolly would not grant.  When I tell people that story, I am always surprised at how many say they didn't know Dolly wrote that song, later a huge hit for Whitney Houston.

My music education continued in summer 1976 when Linda released Hasten Down the Wind, and I became familiar with songwriters Karla Bonoff and Warren Zevon (yes, purchasing all their albums as they came out) as well as another country classic: "Crazy"--by the great Patsy Cline -- written by Willie Nelson.  Yes, all new names to me at the time.  My music education -- past and present -- continued through Linda's tutelage. I went on to become a huge Willie Nelson fan, and been known to buy some Patsy Cline collections as well.

Patsy Cline's stage costume, Ryman Auditorium

Love this recording of Linda singing "Crazy."

 In August 1977 I spent a week in a tiny southeastern Ohio town called Buchtel.  My boyfriend Scot was getting ready to attend Ohio University that school year, and was going to be living in a house outside of Athens with two guys who were going to Hocking Technical College.  I left my high-rise apartment next to a mall in a suburb of Cleveland, and spent it in an extremely quiet "holler" armed with two new albums: Linda's Simple Dreams and Hall and Oates Beauty and the Backstreet.  I purchased both albums the day before leaving town, and purposely did not listen to either one before getting to Buchtel. Consequently, the music on these two discs take me back to a time and place like no other.  Every sultry summer morning, the first thing I would do is put on Simple Dreams while we sipped our morning beverages. Later, we'd play cards while listening to Hall and Oates, continued listening to the music through the window while sitting on the front porch swing, took walks in the woods, drove into Athens, and barbecued on a tiny hibachi in the evening, with no sound but the birds and the winds rustling through the trees, and maybe a little more Linda playing in the background.  I will never forget coming back home to Great Northern Towers and realizing what a bright and loud atmosphere I lived in daily.  Music had to cover it up -- in the rolling hills of southern Ohio, it was soundtrack adding dimensions to the environment. This is a distinction I have not forgotten.

Simple Dreams would stay with me throughout the fall and into the darker winter days because of the hit "Blue Bayou."  At nightfall I would leave work to drive 45 minutes home, and can remember hearing the song and thinking how it applied to me:  "Saving nickles, saving dimes/working til the sun don't shine/ looking forward to happier times on Blue Bayou."  For me, Blue Bayou was southern Ohio, a place where I could go for respite -- quiet, except for the music we chose to play; dark, except for the candles we wished to light.  "Blue Bayou" was a Roy Orbison song (I only knew his "Pretty Woman") and a last gasp of great radio music before disco took over the airwaves that winter with the release of Saturday Night Fever.

Linda. never. did. disco. thank. God.

But that doesn't mean she didn't change with the times.  In February 1980 she hit the first wrong note with me with her album Mad Love.  She had gone in a New Wave-y direction, and it wasn't one I cared for much.  Reading her memoir, I learned that this was the first album recorded digitally. This made me wonder if what I was responding to at the time was something my ear could hear that was different. The recording of music was changing and frankly, the early 80's is a bit of a wasteland in that regard -- even Hall and Oates was losing my allegiance with repetitive and overplayed songs like "Private Eyes."  I bought the album Mad Love, but don't think I listened to it much.  I never did buy the CD.

 In 1982 I got over it, though, with the release of Get Closer.  The songs on this one were superb, especially songs by Jimmy Webb ("The Moon is a Harsh Mistress" and "Easy for You to Say") and Kate McGarrigle again with the touching "Talk to Me of Mendicino."  I had married and divorced in the time since Mad Love had come out, and Get Closer was some kind of elixir for the transformation I was going through in my life.  Linda's approach seemed lighter and deeper at the same time, and I had an appreciation for that.  And besides -- I really loved the album cover!!!

Award winning album cover -- polka dots!
Polka dots!










1 comment:

  1. I am most impressed by your vivid recollection of the precise moments Ronstadt's music intersected with your life. I have to say I would either have to be under hypnosis or lying to align a great portion of my life events with Music. And were the Polka dots actually inspired by Ronstadt or just a fashion statement of the time period? Nice.

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