Don't Mess With the Classics

Some songs are just best alone to be enjoyed by generations of fans. Some are so masterfully done that they simply cannot be remade, no matter how stellar the production or talented the singers.

Last week I saw a video featuring Michael Bublé and Laura Pausini interpret the Lou Rawls classic "You'll Never Find Another Love Like Mine." It was downright horrible. I have listened to Laura Pausini for years and I was disappointed in her lusterless performance. Bublé was languid. Sure, the vocals were fine and there seemed to be some chemistry between the singers, but this interpretation was awful. It lacked the soul and profound earnestness that Rawls imbued into his singing of it. The copy does no justice to the original.

This made me think back on some of the other train wrecks that resulted from pop artists who think they can do justice to a classic and iconic song. Wilson Phillips offered up a weak and dismal version of the Eagles classic "Hotel California" and Norah Jones's butchery of the Roxy Music song "More Than This" are just a few examples.

Stay with the original classics, you can't go wrong!

Here is a video of the original  "You'll Never Find Another Love Like Mine" for you. Enjoy!

Here is a tip of the hat to the great Lou Rawls.

Ferguson and Elegía a Emmett Till

I have been appalled by the events in Ferguson, Missouri. Not only was I disappointed by the verdict exonerating the police officer who killed an unarmed 18-year old African-American male, Michael Brown;  I was dismayed by the rampant violence that has wreaked havoc in that community.

There have been riots, violence, and ignorance on both sides of the imbroglio that has rampaged through the once oblivious peacefulness of a community that no one knew about until August 2014.

In the past the past the police hid behind the shroud of public indifference; now they are hiding behind their shields and badges amidst a pointed flurry of righteous fury directed their way. Despite it all, there has been progress. In 1955 14-year-old Emmett Till, was kidnapped from his uncle’s home in Chicago, Illinois and brutally murdered for the simple reason that he whistled at a young white girl. The perpetrators were never apprehended and there was no reaction of disgust or anger at the horrific murder. I don’t condone violence, but it is good to see the public expression of rage at happened to Michael Brown. No such reaction took place in 1955.

However, Cuban poet Nicolás Guillén noticed and he wrote a powerful poem (in 1958), which I post below.

Elegía a Emmet Till

En norteamerica,

la Rosa de los Vientos

tiene el pétalo sur rojo de sangre.

El Mississippi pasa

¡oh Viejo río hermano de los negros!

con las venas abiertas en el agua,

el Mississippi cuanda pasa.

Suspira su ancho pecho

y en su guitarra bárbara, el Mississippi cuando pasa

llora con duras lágrimas.

El Mississippi pasa

y mira el Mississippi cuando pasa

árboles silenciosos

de donde cuelgan gritos ya maduros,

el Mississippi cuando pasa

y mira el Mississippi cuando pasa

cruces de fuego amenazante,

el Mississippi cuando pasa,

y hombres de miedo y alarido

el Mississippi cuando pasa,

y la nocturna hoguera

a cuya luz cannibal

danzan los hombres blancos,

y la nocturna hoguera

con un eterno negro ardiendo,

un negro sujetándose

envuelto en humo el vientre desprendido,

los intestines húmedos,

el perseguido sexo

allá en el Sur alcoholico,

allá en el Sur de afrenta y látigo,

el Mississippi cuando pasa.

Ahora ¡oh Mississippi,

oh viejo río hermano de los negros!

ahora un niño frágil,

pequeña flor de tus riberas,

no raíz todavia de tus árboles,

no tronco de tus bisques,

no piedra de tu lecho,

no caiman de tus aguas:

un niño apenas,

un niños muerto, asesinado y solo,

negro.

Un niño con su trampo,

con sus amigos con su barrio;

con su camisa de domingo,

con su billete para el cine,

con su pupitre y su pizarra,

con su pomo de tinta,

con su guante de beísbol,

con su programa de boxeo,

con su retrato de Lincoln,

con su bandera norteamericana,

 negro.

Un niño negro asesinado y solo,

que una rosa de amor

arrojó al paso de una niña blanca.

¡Oh viejo Mississippi,

Oh rey, oh río profundo manto!

Detén aquí tu procession de espumas,

Tu azul canoza de tracción oceánica:

mira este cuerpo leve,

ángel adolescente que llevaba

no bien cerradas las cicatrices en los hombres

donde tuvo las alas;

mira este rostro de perfíl ausente,

deshecho a piedra y piedra,

a plomo y piedra,

a insult y piedra;

mira este abierto pecho,

la sangre Antigua ya de duro coágulo.

Ven y en la noche iluminada

por una luna de catastrophe,

la lenta noche de los negros

con sus fosforescencias subterráneas,

ven y en la noche iluminada,

dime tú, Mississippi,

si podrás contemplar con ojos de agua ciega

y brazos de titan indiferente,

este luto, este crimen,

este mínimo muerto sin venganza,

este cadaver colossal y puro:

veny en la noche iluminada

tú, cargado de puños y de pájaros,

de sueños y metales,

ven y en la noche iluminada

oh viejo río hermano de los negros,

ven y en la noche iluminada,

ven y en la noche iluminada,

dime tú, Mississippi…