I wrote a rather lengthy comment tonight for a friend’s largely critical thread re: the departed Whitney Houston, but, just as I was about to post it, it FUCKIN’ DISAPPEARED and I was far too pissed to attempt to re-create it from scratch.
Anyhow, one aspect I’d included was the fact that there is a little-known, spare, very beautiful, and extraordinarily unlikely example of the artist WH might easily have become, if not for Clive Davis’ greedy intervention in her career.
Needless to say, the last thing you’d expect would be that her first released lead vocal performance (in 1982, at 18, a full three years prior to her mega-selling, self-titled LP debut) was actually an exquisite cover of an obscure Hugh Hopper composition, originally sung by Robert Wyatt, arranged and produced by Bill Laswell (who of course played bass on it as well), on which she duetted with the immortal Archie Shepp’s saxophone!
Nevertheless, here it is:
I well recall reading about the album in Xgau’s Consumer Guide at the time, and then tracking it down a year or two later!
Material: One Down [Elektra, 1982]
Laswell, Beinhorn & Co. have obviously been listening to the radio instead of complaining about the end of the world. The result is a protean disco album that sounds like real New York rock and roll. Chic guitar and planet-rocking vocoders are only the beginning–several of these experiments seem designed to cross over right behind “Eye of the Tiger,” and never have electronically processed rhythms throbbed with such life. All that’s missing is a deeper feeling for singers and songs, an old problem that the finest and most atypical track suggests is remediable–Soft Machinist Hugh Hopper’s “Memories,” which guest stars Whitney Houston and Archie Shepp, transfers into one of the most gorgeous ballads you’ve ever heard. A-
Anyhow, just goes to show that ANYTHING is possible, and also that a young person with obvious talent can be led horribly astray by The Music Biz.
Unfortunately, that’s what happened with WH, who might otherwise have preceded and eclipsed the likes of Cassandra Wilson, et al., as a modern jazz singer of the first rank. Instead, we got Adult Contemporary Pop, “Quiet Storm R&B”, generic dancefloor hokum, and a lotta histrionic soundtrack music, to go along with two decades of tabloid fodder.
I’m just sorry we’ll never experience the fine music that WH might have had a hand in creating….but this Material track at least gives some indication of a greater artistry that was prematurely abandoned.
She (and we) deserved better, and I’m only sorry she never figured out how best to direct her huge voice and strong personality. So-called “bad taste” needn’t be fatal to one’s musical career, as hundreds of examples (starting with the sainted Aretha) clearly demonstrate, but trying to become as rich, famous, and “successful” as humanly possible seldom ends well.
Tom
P.S. Here is the spare, also quite lovely, ca. 1966 original of “Memories”, by the pre-Soft Machine Canterbury Scene band, The Wilde Flowers, which also included Kevin Ayers, in addition to all the other future Softs:
Now the April 1967 version by The Soft Machine:
And finally, the Robert Wyatt solo version, the b-side of his 1974 Virgin single of “I’m a Believer”, and later collected on his 1999 EPs box set:
And, just to show I haven’t gone crazy, here are the Xgau capsules re: Whitney’s first two albums, which capture my own distaste for her aesthetic quite nicely:
Whitney Houston [Arista, 1984]
I’d never claim that this sweet, statuesque woman and her sweet, statuesque voice are victims of exploitation. She obviously believes in this schlock. But not counting the Jermaine Jackson duet from his own Arista debut, only one of the four producers puts any zip in–Narada Michael Walden, who goes one for one. And it could have been worse–they could have sicked Barry Manilow on her the way they did with cousin Dionne. Then the credits could have read: “To Barry Manilow, It was a privilege to work with a talented professional who’s made so many millions of dollars for Clive Davis. Together, we can make many millions more.” C
Whitney [Arista, 1987]
It takes more than unsullied venality and the will to power to reign as the most revolting pop singer in Christendom. It takes active aesthetic miscalculation and, truth be told, more than a little luck. Like falling into the lame dance grooves of Jermaine Jackson and the odious megaschlock of Michael Masser, with Narada Michael Walden limited to “How Will I Know”–which becomes your breakthrough song as well as the only critically forgivable thing on your best-selling debut album in history. So this time Walden gets seven shots, with Masser down to two and Jermaine returned to the bosom of his family, and the results are forgivable–she does have a good voice, you know. C+
– Tom Kipp
