And that band just got two new lead singers! Couples skate!
The passing this week of Donna Summer and Robin Gibb of the Bee Gees not only chips away at the collective childhood memories of those of us born in the 1970s – I know now how my parents felt when David Ruffin of The Temptations died – but means the silencing of two of the most unique voices in popular music. Whether you like disco or believe it to be the soundtrack of the seventh circle of Hell, Summer and Gibb were undoubtedly easy to recognize on the radio – and they’re still heard. Probably right now.
Summer’s rich kiss of a vocal instrument remains an elegant landmark in a genre considered tacky by some - her strong mezzo-soprano graced everything from rock to opera to classical. And while many singers since have done “Last Dance” or “Heaven Knows” or “Bad Girls,” no one else sounded like Donna Summer. She had a sensual yearning intertwined with a rare confidence that informed her breathy declarations of carnal need (“I Feel Love”), her provocative character studies (“Bad Girls,” “She Works Hard For The Money”) or her girl power anthems (“No More Tears,” in which I have always maintained that she outsang Barbra Streisand. I’m open to argument but you’ll never convince me otherwise.) She was at once vulnerable and empowered, full of stark, knowing lust and the most romantic, heart-filling love. Before there was a Mariah Carey or a Whitney Houston, Donna Summer established herself as the queen of the deceptively easy power belt. That is to say, future singerlings, that just because you can approximate all of the runs doesn’t mean you’re getting it right. It’s harder than it looks. Donna was a genius. Don’t feel bad that you can’t do what she did. Few could.
Robin Gibb was the impossibly high top of the Bee Gees’ three-part harmony, accomplishing something incredible: He had an impeccably controlled falsetto. Falsetto is hard – ask any real singer – because it is above one’s natural or chest voice, and it’s difficult sometimes to maintain it, in tune, without sounding strained or like the audible results of a popped balloon. I know a lot of people couldn’t stand Gibb’s voice, or those of his brothers, because of how high it was. Some people thought it wasn’t masculine – I disagreed, because I think it takes a lot of confidence, no matter what your sexuality, to sing that high. Again, there’s a vulnerability to it, even as you’re commanding people that they should be dancing, or declaring that you’re staying alive. Robin, particularly, has been in my heart since the death of his brother Maurice, because they were twins, and as a twin, I can’t imagine the loss of my sister without imagining my vocal cords being removed. I could live without them, but something would be missing in my very essence. Robin Gibb kept singing, but I can’t imagine he didn’t yearn for that voice that was supposed to be melding with his. My heart goes out to remaining Bee Gee Barry. Brothers and sisters are magic.
Also magic: What’s been known as “disco” music, although some of its purveyors prefer to call it dance music. And I understand – I can’t think of any genre that’s been so vilified, except maybe rap – I HATE those commercials for radio stations that proclaim “No Rap” as a pride point, as if no other genre has ever been objectionable. But disco, of course, was attacked to the point that people were bulldozing records, and I do believe that while some people just didn’t like the sometimes monotonous beat or what seemed like silly, inane lyrics or toothless subject matter as compared to the socially-conscious protest songs of the 1960s or the loud, crunchy expression of a hard rock guitar.
But I’ve always thought disco had a lot of worth, and not just because there’s nothing more basic or natural than moving your body to music. It’s because there WAS a social context to the music, in its black and Latin and gay roots. It’s an urban music, a music born of a melding of cultures and a flavor of sensuality, of a hot summer day when there was nothing left to do to relieve the burden of the steaming sidewalks and the overcrowded pressing-in of your reality and express yourself with your arms, your legs, your rhythmically bobbing head. It was sex and strength and fun and love and pride, a music that encouraged you to take the thing that most defined you and exaggerate it, whether it was your chest hair or your billowing Afro or your sexuality.
Or your otherworldly voice. Disco, or dance, or whatever you wanna call it, had a lot of artifice. But it didn’t hide. And the voices of Robin Gibb and Donna Summer were impossible to hide, too. I’ll miss them both.
Facebook
Twitter
RSS
Twenty-five years after Jennifer Grey and the late Patrick Swayze lit up the silver screen in the iconic film Dirty Dancing, the actress has teamed up with Skinny Cow to bring the movie back to the big screen in a special anniversary tour. The veteran actress sat down with Parade.com at the kickoff screening in New York City to discuss the project and her unforgettable role.
Q: What happens to the costumes worn on Dancing With the Stars once the show is over? —Debbie Armiger, N.J.
Kevin Costner has often been compared to Gary Cooper. Even Cooper’s widow, Rocky, once told me she saw the similarities: “They both act with their eyes.” Now 30-plus years into his career, Costner still radiates the all-American appeal and casual glamour that helped make him a star.
Hailey Reinhart may not have won season 10 of American Idol, but her third-place finish, memorable performances, and celebrity fans all but ensured her continued success.
Don’t let the fancy dresses and perfectly coiffed hair fool you: The Bachelorette‘s Emily Maynard may be a pretty package but it’s not the glitzy things in life catching her attention.
Celebrity jail mugs
