With Material (Bill Laswell, Michael Beinhorn), Yogi Horton on drums, Archie Shepp on sax, Raymond Jones on piano. My friend Martin Bisi engineered the recording. Composed by Hugh Hopper and Robert Wyatt, originally recorded by Soft Machine. Released 1982.
Whitney Houston, 1963-2012
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Sigh. Thanks for posting that. Back in the day that cut served as the trump card to lay on anyone who gave me the hairy eyeball for calling her a spectacular, sui generis talent.
At the risk of sounding like Jeffrey Wells – is there anyone since Elvis Presley, anyone that touched with the genius stick, whose gifts were so wasted on the blandest junk? That to me is, and always has been, an occasion for sadness.
Again, thanks for putting that up. Sometimes its nice to know that one’s enthusiasms aren’t as fringe as they seem.
Yeah, this is where I first heard her, too. I remember the buzz built around her pretty quickly after that, but like Jim, I was mostly disappointed in the direction she ended up taking. She could’ve worked with anybody, but we got Michael Masser, David Foster…bleh…
I’d always thought the sole notable aspect of ‘The Bodyguard’ (otherwise a movie as generic as its director’s name) was the revelation Houston’s character was being tormented by someone close to her, resentful of her success. Now that plot takes on an uncomfortable resonance, alas…
Thanks for the reminder. I haven’t listened to One Down in years.
Good riddance, Crackhead.
Gee, for a second there, I thought this might be one place on the web where no one would pull that complete lack of compassion and sympathy bullshit.
I was hoping for the same myself. Oh well.
Angry Samoan still hasn’t gotten over what happened to Tony Rocky Horror…
Angry Samoan is glad because it means more crack for him.
I’m not sure I agree that either her talents or Elvis’s were wasted on the blandest junk. To be sure, both recorded some bland junk, but there’s a lot of great 60s and 70s Elvis and a lot of great late 80s and 90s Whitney.
If only Presley had had Bobby Brown to manually help him poop on that fateful day in 1977, instead of fatally overstraining himself.
A very important point, Oliver_C !
Michael Jackson may have been the King of Pop, but Whitney was the Queen of Poop.
To address the points made by Mssrs. Bryant and Asher…as much as I adore “Memories,” I don’t know that a career bridging the oft-minimal (if only we could see it as so!) gap between the “progressive” and the mainstream would have been a proper life’s work for Houston; I’ve never seen an interview with her where she mentioned the song or recording it. (Although Hugh Hopper was on record as being very pleased with it, albeit a little taken aback at how out of tune the usually impeccable Laswell’s bass it on the track.) And as much pap as she did lay down, she certainly made it SOUND good. About 13 years ago I dated a woman who was REALLY into “My Love Is Your Love” and I was a little surprised at how listenable an album it was. Still: A shame she was never able to make her own “I Never Loved A Man.” I think she had the talent to do so.
When my band did some recording with Martin B. in December, I made the mordant joke that I now had more than one thing in common with Whitney Houston. Oy.
Yeah, Asher, I posted that without the parenthetical – Whitney’s music analogous to Elvis *films*, a bunch of “Clambake” to get to the “King Creole”, a truckload of “One Moment In Time” to get to the “Shoop”, and certainly no allusion to their respective ends was intended. That’s not a parlor game I’m into at all.
Which brings me to our friend Angry Samoan – may I call you “Angry”? I feel bad that I used the occasion of someone’s death to blurt out an underbaked, if closely held, thought. Now one expects you to be sad or light a candle for anybody, or even to “have a heart” about someone you don’t know. But I roll differently. I feel *terrible* that you failed to get Clive Davis to hook up one of his stable to cover “They Saved Hitler’s Cock”. I weep for your lost royalties and reduced status in the industry. But you need to look reality square in the eye. Like the development of your compassion gene, IT JUST DIDN’T HAPPEN. Be a better man. Try to rise above it.
It didn’t help that she was of L.A., where over-produced crap is king. I hope she finds the peace of mind that obviously eluded her here.
http://fablog.ehrensteinland.com/2012/02/13/grover-norquists-bathtub-of-death/
You forgot Frankie Five Angels. You know, while you’re on a roll.