The wide mechanism of the loss contains many moving parts, and interconnected tragedies that sometimes become interconnected blessings. There is a tragedy and the blessing of time, which opens to the tragedy and the pool of memory. I find myself wandering in a kind of wild -extended wild in the morning when I realize that my mother has disappeared for a long time that I cannot remember her speaker’s voice clearly, only a word or a half phrase floating in my mind before the rest on himself is far -reaching. The puzzle, but the wonderful is that I am Do Remember the voice of my mother singing clearly, as one of the first voices of my childhood. I think someone is a “good” singer, he should partially do with how much we love for a person who is singing, more than it comes to whether he is a suitable messenger for another person’s song, or sufficient accompanying to another sound of sound. All this means that I faced the music of Roberta Flac, for the first time through my mother’s voice. I do not remember the song or songs, I only remember hearing my mother singing a song on the radio. My mother loved Flack, so she loved her, and I was sad to hear this week that Flack died, at the age of eight and eight, in part because I knew that my mother would be sad.
But I was also sad because I was first adore as an emotional translator in a person’s song – exceeding just a tune to extract some new reserves from feeling, or narration, or to sing it so well that her special desires are colored again. This ability was not completely surprising, given the Flack’s musical background. Her massive gifts at Mr. Henry Lamz Club were already sharpened in the capital, where she had residence in 1968. People were line up around the bloc to see a group list that included covers and standards. Flack’s Début, “First Take” was recorded in just ten hours in February 1969, in the space between the assassination of Martin Luther King Junior, Summer Woodstock, and the cultural coordination that followed. It is my favorite FLACK record, which is sad, angry, and constantly strives. But I love her more for her transformations. The Ballad of the Sad Young, which closes the album in 1959, was written by Tommy Wolf and Fran Landsman, for the musical “neural group”, a production that focuses on the publisher of the vanguard magazine and his wife, which is the beauty of the pulse, and marriage that the allegation cannot be saved in New York. “Ballad” is a bleak melody, regardless of who sings, whether Tani Seitz, in the original recording; Or Shirley Passi, she sings her as she lives with her hands wrapped around her shoulders as if, in the midst of her unit, she was charged with warmth; Or Rickie Lee Jones, whose singing was half of the light to select the guitar. During the Flack time in teaching music in the capital, in the years before “First Take”, she sang the song during the shows that took place five nights per week, three times a night, in Mr. Henry. Atlantic Records signed a standard deal on the recommendation of jazz music for Les Macan, who saw her in the bar. Her performance of “Ballad of the Mother for” on “First Take” is particularly devastating for how Flack dwells in the scene position. You have to understand a scene before you understand all the pain inside it.
For me, this was the great powers of Flack: its willingness not only to transfer you to a feeling but first to build a place to contain it. In the song, there are sad youth, yes, sitting in the bars. But this is the way you take Flack at the time with the verses of the song, each of which includes a few lines of lyric, which makes you understand that these sad young men are looking for someone and fighting at the same time. They are “the elderly / this is the cruel part.” Perhaps, because Flack has sang the song in a strip often, and for a long time to the point that it understood that its engine is less “about” pain that is frequented by the tape itself more than everything that carries someone inside the bar. Unit may be the wings of the song, but the unit, which presses against the brutality of time, may be what takes it.
Speaking of Flight, Flack heard for the first time “Killing Me quietly with his song” on a plane in 1972, when the original, which was sang by Lori Lieberman, was shown in the sound program during flying. Flack was hit by the song and the song herself to the point that she played the song several times while riding the plane, and notes on the melody, and within two days, she had the arrangement. Flack version, which was released in 1973, is more urgent, with an amazing behind the song to build its well -gained escalation and close it on a large tendon. The B from “Killing Me quietly” contains Flack to Bob Dylan “just like the woman,” which is one of the favorite envelopes in any song in the history of songs, to a large extent because it finds a way to overcome the cover cover of the pets of mines, which is to modify the lyrics of songs that suit sex. There was no other way to ingenious things here except to switch “to” to “me”, but the change has a strange useful effect. He assures the listener, yes, Dylan may have been a somewhat sympathetic to “she”, but this is the real deal, a person with the weight of both the witness and experience.
On Sundays in Columbus, Ohio, when I grew up, the black radio station that I listened to suddenly turned into 6 evening From his gospel throughout the day to the hours of the quiet storm. The recent notes of some songs about God or heaven will fade in fifty, then a caricature of thunder will come on the radio, followed by the sound effect of the rain that strikes a window. I liked the quiet storm collection in Jazzy R. & B. It was a deep, intimate emotional, saturated or longing. Roberta Vlac was an engineer of this sub -type, which relied a lot on the accuracy of the transmitted cry, the romances of the seriousness of the plain on the extra metaphor or images. Flack was singing “When you smiled, I can see / you were born, I was born for me” with ignoring, as if it were something you were saying on a meal with a beloved, without making a scene from him, just as it was something worth feeling. She found her to be a unique courageous romance, at least in the form of a song. Yes, it was great in front of the piano. It was a great organizer and repetition. She was a master’s understanding of speed and momentum. She was also an ideal bilateral partner, the most prominent of which is Donny Hathaway in the 1970s, and Pipo Prison in the 1980s. But in addition, perhaps all of this, she sang as if she was holding a secret waiting to become for you. There was no need to scream, because the words will work alone. I sing the songs of Roberta Flac, badly, in a shower. I sing them – more calm, but still weak – while moving at airports, which, despite their treacherous chaos, sometimes offers me a glimpse of someone running in my arms another person. Flack is my favorite singer, because it makes me not care whether or not a ship is suitable for the song. I invited a listener to the inner world of feeling, and it will be a betrayal for me to enter this place, not, at least, by echoing her words in the bathroom or on the climb line, for example, for example, for example, for example, Do you believe this?? ♦
