AUDREYS MUSICAL JOURNEY - PART NINE: YOURE GONNA MAKE - TopicsExpress



          

AUDREYS MUSICAL JOURNEY - PART NINE: YOURE GONNA MAKE ME LONESOME WHEN YOU GO Whats in a name? Plenty, we feel. With those words, I opened an editorial in Blitz Magazine in 1978. At that time, I was attempting to convey to Blitzs audience that the magazines name reflected our support for the return of rock and roll to aesthetic prominence after the protracted slump in which it had found itself since the late 1960s. As the mainstream eventually came around to our way of thinking, we added the words, The Rock And Roll Magazine For Thinking People into the logo to reiterate our commitment to an academic perspective. Not long after meeting Audreys family, I in turn discovered their own collective penchant for the proverbial nickname. Very few of them referred to one another by their birth names. More often than not, their family nickname emphasized the last syllable of each members first name, rather than the more commonly used first syllable. As such, brothers Arnel became Nell, Aaron was alternately known as Ron or Ronski, Adam answered to either Adamax or Damski, and Arwin found himself saddled by his siblings with Winn. For reasons that I still dont quite understand after all of these years, Audreys family also named some of their other relatives a wide variety of nicknames that end in the eng sound. To wit, Arwins wife Maribel is known as Bheng. Their Aunt Evelyn goes by Bing. And most curiously, Audreys brother Alfred (who was named after their late father) has spent the last couple of decades being referred to as Cleng. Dont ask. Not wanting to miss such an opportunity, when youngest brother Arwin became a dad in 1997, I in short order began referring to his oldest daughter (my niece) Angelica as Kiki. And when Kikis brother, Adrian James was born some months later, he became forever known to the vast majority of his relatives as A.J., but (much to his chagrin) to his Uncle Mike as Titi. However, first things first. As noted in Part Eight of Audreys Musical Journey, in the late summer of 1994, I had resolved to ask Audrey to marry me, but only after spending ninety days in prayer about it. As such, it only seemed right that she had a nickname of her own. Actually, Audrey already had a couple of them. In keeping with the familys tradition, her devoted brothers referred to her as Drax. But not one to compromise her fierce individualism, their mom, Lita, in that unique way of hers of heavily accenting the last syllable of multi-syllable words, plain and simply called her daughter what sounded like Oodley. Or Ood-LEY, if you prefer. At first, I found her mothers reference curiously endearing and would occasionally refer to Audrey in like manner. Although she found it mildly amusing, both of us knew that such a reference would not sustain its positive impact for a long period of time. If Audrey was going to be my wife, she needed something that more accurately reflected how I envisioned her. After going through all of the most common such references, like honey, sweetie, dear, babe or love, they all had one thing in common: they were common! Yet it was becoming more and more obvious that I was being blessed by the Lord with a unique soulmate. So I thought, What would best describe Audrey that doesnt emphasize the last syllable of her name or end in eng ? During that season, Audrey had been in touch with various long time friends. One thing that I found interesting was that among her three best friends from her school days, two of them were named Teresa. I remember wondering what her family members would have called either of them, given that their last syllable habit simply would not work with Sa (and interestingly enough, one of the two Teresas ended up being saddled with the nickname Tek). It concurrently came to mind that the actual abbreviation for Teresa was Tess. Right around that time, Audrey and I were preparing to go out to one of the many, many family functions that her extended family (which numbered in the hundreds) was hosting. With so many aunts, uncles, cousins and other such relatives, a birthday party, anniversary or other similar celebration was pretty much a weekly occurrence (and that was a good thing, given that the regrettable Major League Baseball strike of 1994 put a premature end to the season and therefore our regular sojourns to Dodger Stadium for the time being). On one such night during the early fall of 1994, I arrived at Audreys home to pick her up for the short drive to the latest family gathering. True to form, Audrey was dressed in the elegant manner which was her custom. Appropriately enough, atop her head was a tiara. And with that, it hit me. She has two friends named Teresa, or Tess. And since, as many couples do, we occasionally addressed one another during intimate moments in baby talk (and since her family had that thing for the last syllable), Tess could be construed as a baby talk variation of the last syllable of......you guessed it: Princess. From that point on, there simply was no other name to which she was better suited. She was the love of my life. If my prayers were to be answered, she would soon be my wife. And she carried herself even better than most royalty did. No two ways about it. For me, Audrey would be forever known as my beloved Princess. Sadly, it was also around that time that a new musical project came along that ultimately proved to be prophetic. As the publisher of an academically oriented music magazine, it was my responsibility to stay on top of current developments in the industry. And while, comparatively speaking, the 1990s were largely a fallow period for musical creativity, there was still the occasional release which became an exception to the rule. One particular new track in 1994 not only caught my attention, but hit me like a ton of bricks the first time that I heard it. My lone encounter with legendary singer/songwriter Bob Dylan came about in the early 1980s. It happened at a nightclub called The Music Machine, which was based in West Los Angeles. Several prominent area bands were performing that evening, and Dylan had come out to observe them. I walked over and introduced myself to him, handing him a couple of recent issues of Blitz in the process. He was most genial, and we talked for several minutes. He said that he had come to the show at the recommendation of his son, who eventually became a musician in his own right as a member of the Wallflowers and who was also a supporter of the bands who were playing that night. That brief conversation eventually turned to the subject of cover material. I mentioned to Dylan that one of my favorite such renditions of one of his compositions was the 1965 version of his Can You Please Crawl Out Your Window? by the Vacels on the Kama Sutra label. He laughed and said, Nobody has ever said that to me before! And with that, the music began, and our respective attentions were diverted to the stage. Say what you will about Bob Dylan, and about all of those enduring anthems that he composed in the early phase of his career, including The Times They Are A Changin, Masters Of War, From A Buick Six, Maggies Farm, Gates Of Eden, Subterranean Homesick Blues and the utterly stupendous Positively Fourth Street. But for my money, nothing prepared me for the level of sheer impact and profundity that was evidenced in an unlikely rendition of one of his lesser known compositions during that eventful autumn of 1994. That year, the singer/songwriter and Vermillion, South Dakota native, Shawn Colvin (who was a label mate of Dylans at Columbia) decided to record an albums worth of outside material, appropriately titled Cover Girl. Therein, Colvin put her unique stamp on diverse material by such notables as the Band, Talking Heads, the Police, Tom Waits and Jimmy Webb. Most of the material on Cover Girl ranged from average to very good. But as the album concluded, the proceedings turned from the studio to a live setting. And upon first listen to the latter portion, Colvin at once brought profound blessing and an unnerving sense of finality to these ears. In January 1975, Columbia released what many consider to be among Bob Dylans finest albums, Blood On The Tracks. Buried on that appropriately titled album amidst such more instantly recognizable cuts as Tangled Up In Blue and If You See Her Say Hello was a subtle yet powerful (and rare) slice of vulnerability, titled Youre Gonna Make Me Lonesome When You Go. As was occasionally the case, Dylans material is often better suited for interpretation by others, who can bring out the best in his more often than not cerebral excursions. Witness not only the aforementioned Vacels rendition of Can You Please Crawl Out Your Window?, but Chers version of All I Really Want To Do, as well as the Turtles landmark take on It Aint Me, Babe. And despite those truly remarkable accomplishments, nothing could have prepared me for my reaction upon hearing Cover Girl for the first time. In the hands of Shawn Colvin, Youre Gonna Make Me Lonesome When You Go became not only a lament for the dissolution of a relationship on the horizon, it absolutely resonated with the ache and unbearable grief of loss, including the loss that comes with the imminent passing of a loved one. In a moment of supreme irony, it was in that latter respect that Colvins Bob Dylan cover impacted me upon first listen. So much so that I felt prompted to share it with Audrey in our next musical discussion. It was obvious that even with several months in the year to go at that point that I had nonetheless found Blitz Magazines pick for Best Song of 1994. Interestingly enough, this was a rare occasion where Audrey did not share my enthusiasm. The subject of Shawn Colvin had come up prior to the release of Cover Girl. But for some reason, Audrey was generally not impressed with her work. Colvins Bob Dylan cover did little to change that, with Audrey referring to it upon first listen as, depressing. Ultimately, she was right. Over the years, each subsequent playback of Youre Gonna Make Me Lonesome When You Go continued to unnerve with each hearing, with a sense of the inevitable inexplicably coming through every time. Ironically, even a surprisingly impressive note for note, faithful cover of Colvins arrangement of the song by Miley Cyrus in her immediate pre-musical meltdown period did much to reiterate our initial enthusiasm for Cyrus earlier work, but precious little to alter Audreys initial reaction to the song itself. All of which served to make Colvins track not only prophetic, but almost unbearably painful to listen to in the wake of the tragic events of October 2014. It was a brief but sadly foretelling aberration in those otherwise blissful times of late 1994, in which Audrey and I would soon find ourselves celebrating the happiest moments of our lives. But that is a story for a subsequent installment of Audreys Musical Journey. Meanwhile, here is the live rendition from Cover Girl of Shawn Colvins interpretation of Bob Dylans Youre Gonna Make Me Lonesome When You Go, in all of its seemingly incongruous mix of heartbreak and beauty: https://youtube/watch?v=n9v_feZAQAs
Posted on: Mon, 12 Jan 2015 02:48:38 +0000

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