Channeling My Inner Starr Quality

Me during the time period Maurice Starr approached me at Tower Records.

Last month, I streamed "The New Edition Story" on Paramount Plus, and it sparked a memory of the time I met Maurice Starr while working at Tower Records Boston in 1990. Starr discovered the 1980's boy band New Edition before he created the astronomically successful New Kids on the Block. When I was in my early teens, I solidly listened to New Edition's first two albums and sang the songs around my house.  One of my favorites had the lines:  "Shake it/Don't break it/It took your mother nine months to make it," and it drove my dad crazy! Seven years later, I was standing at the entrance of Tower, flipping through a Miles Davis biography, when Maurice Starr approached me.  If he had been Ronnie, Bobby, Ricky, Ralph, or Mike, I would have recognized him.  But instead, he was their behind-the-scenes producer, and I didn't recognize him at all.  He asked me if I liked Miles Davis, and I said that I didn't know anything about him and that's why I was interested in reading this book.  He also asked me how the Peter Wolf solo album was doing, and I told him whatever I could remember off the top of my head about its sales.  Suddenly a man walked up to me and asked, "Do you know you're talking to a really important guy right now?"  I turned to Maurice and asked, "Who ARE you?!"  He answered, "I'm Maurice Starr,"  to which I exclaimed: "No, you're not!"  So he pulled out his driver's license and showed me.  It had a different name on it, but it also said "a/k/a Maurice Starr," so then I believed him, and his identity was further confirmed to me a few days later when I saw his picture on the cover of one of my free Boston magazines.  Maurice and I chatted a little while longer, and I told him I was a Berklee College of Music student and that I was interested in working as a singer and songwriter.  The next thing I knew, he wrote his phone number down on a little piece of paper and told me to call him.

But I didn't! 

I should have because it was my dream to get a record contract, but I was too shy and scared to go and audition for him.  I was more of a songwriter and instrumentalist and less of an entertainer and performer.  I missed my chance.  A few months later, I saw Maurice Starr  interviewed on MTV.  The interviewer asked him what made him choose to work with certain people over others.  He answered that he noticed a little something special in those people, making them stand out from the rest.  I felt he must have spotted a quality like that in me.  

For years, I regretted not using that little piece of paper to call Maurice Starr.  All I did was Scotch tape it into my notebook journal.  Eventually, I learned to accept that singing and dancing to pop music just wasn't me.  Growing content with our limitations comes easier with age.  It would be tempting to sit around and sulk and ask myself: "Why didn't I jump at the chance? I was in my prime then!"  But what good would that do me now, and what does it really mean to be in our prime anyway?  Everyone constantly says that women over the age of forty are no longer in their "prime," but what if being in our  prime doesn't mean what society tells us it means?  What if having more confidence and self-awareness is what it really means to be in our prime? Maurice Starr noticed something in me when I was in my early twenties, and that special something hasn't gone away.  I may not sing and dance or have a record contract, but I write novels and they fulfill me. The secret to staying in our prime is to channel our own inner "Starr" qualities, and instead of dwelling on what we can't do, we should remind ourselves what we CAN do.  

Lena Dunham's Instagram post on New Year's Eve positively resonated with me. She proposed we forget about making New Year's resolutions because they keep us focused on our failures. Instead, she suggests we: “Give in to who you are and what your actual gifts are, your true powers, and let go of the compare and contrast.”  I think this is good advice.  This year, instead of making more demands on myself to clean the house more and exercise more, how about I just be me?

Me on the Willowbrook Park Carousel in Staten Island - Present Day

This Is Not A Post About Chicago

It all started with a beautiful man.  But don't most things start that way?  An attractive person can change your world.  I grew up on 1980's movies where it's usually a male character who falls in love at first sight with a female character and then spends the rest of the movie pursuing her and having thoughts about nothing but her.  Movies like "Valley Girl" when Randy the punk spotted beautiful valley girl, Julie, on the beach and then crashed the preppie party to meet her. Well, I'm not about to crash any parties, but after seeing Robert Lamm of Chicago on their "Live at Tanglewood" concert video from 1970,  I have been consumed by all things Chicago. 

THE video! "Beginnings" from "Chicago - Live at Tanglewood"

A few months ago in August, I flipped my TV channel remote on the Chicago episode of AXS Channel's "Rock Legends" series. I remembered that my former stepfather gave me his "Chicago IX -  Greatest Hits" album on vinyl when I was a teenager.   This was in the 1980's, and until I'd heard this album, I had no idea that Chicago had a full brass section and a singer with a deep voice.  I was only familiar with their videos showing Peter Cetera as their lead singer, a blonde-haired tenor who sang ballads. It was a pleasant surprise to discover this earlier version of Chicago, and I listened to my "Chicago IX" album regularly.  I was told the singer with the deep voice on my album was Terry Kath who died in the 1970's in a gun accident.  My favorite songs on the album were "Make Me Smile," "Call on Me," "Beginnings," and "Feeling Stronger Everyday." 

My new Chicago bracelet set that I asked an Etsy artist to make for me featuring my favorite Chicago song 

After the AXS episode refreshed my memory of how much I loved those songs, I decided to look on YouTube for Chicago videos. I searched for "Beginnings" and stumbled upon the Tanglewood concert.  At first, I assumed the long-haired man getting ready to sing at the microphone was the deceased Terry Kath.  Basically, I just assumed this because I knew he wasn't Peter Cetera.   But right away, I heard him say, "Terry," while looking to his side and gesturing with his hand, so I said to myself, "Oh. This isn't Terry Kath. BUT THEN WHO IS THIS HANDSOME GUY??!!"  I Googled and found out it was Robert Lamm and that he is still alive and STILL good-looking at age seventy-eight. 

Soon I was watching every single Chicago video and documentary I could find.  Not just to see 1970's Robert Lamm but because Chicago's musicianship speaks to me. Even though I consider myself primarily a novelist, at the core of my heart, I am a musician.  When I was five years old, I begged my parents to let me take piano lessons.  They put me off until I was six because they didn't want to waste money on a piano only to have me change my mind.  I didn't change my mind, and I took lessons until I was sixteen. Then, when I was eighteen, I enrolled at Boston's Berklee College of Music.  Watching live Chicago videos during the Terry Kath years of 1970 through 1977 is like being at Berklee again.  Every night I enjoy sitting with a half glass of Chardonnay or a half bottle of Guinness beer with my headphones on and plugged into YouTube.  I am behind in my podcasts and in editing the 2nd draft of my newest novel because I keep watching and listening to Chicago in the 1970's, and it feels so good.

Pin from my Pinterest Board dedicated solely to Chicago's Robert Lamm

One day last month, I was really angry.  Just from the usual, everyday life's frustrations. So at night, I put the entire "Live at Tanglewood" concert into my headphones yet again. Terry Kath's amazing and busy guitar playing and Danny Seraphine's wild, forceful, drumming helped get everything out of me.  It was cathartic and exactly what I needed.  I was able to sleep peacefully that night.

So why do I keep on watching and listening to Chicago? I believe it is because obsessions allow us to distract our minds from the everyday things that are troubling us. Things like the fact that I have only $10 left in my checking account.  Or when I think about how if I carry my mug of tea down the stairs, I may trip and fall and die like Ivana Trump did while carrying her mug of coffee.  Or if something like that doesn't happen to me, and I live another forty years, is the planet going to be half submerged under water by then?  These days, when I have anxious thoughts, I immediately switch them, and instead, I plug into Chicago.

I know that eventually my fascination with Chicago will dim, but I don't want it to yet because I'm having too much fun. I'm excited I'll get to see Chicago play live when they tour the East Coast in April 2023.  But what would be even better is if one night, Robert Lamm could magically step out of that "Chicago - Live at Tanglewood" YouTube video from out of my laptop the same way Jeff Daniels stepped off the movie theater screen in Woody Allen's "The Purple Rose of Cairo!"  If that happened, I could remain in a dream fantasy world forever. Surely, this would be the perfect cure for my anxiety.  If only!

My ticket confirmation to see Chicago.  Robert Lamm is in the middle in white pants.

The Poem I Wrote As A Love Letter To My Vocal Cords

 

My Dad singing with his cover band "Beach Road" in the 1970's

In April 2016, I wrote a blog entry entitled, "Finally - Dad. (Part 1)."  I said that it was very difficult to write about my dad who died when I was fifteen but that eventually I would write more entries about him.  So here we are, six years later, with Part 2. In Part 1, I wrote about my dad's love of Walt Whitman's poetry and said that he wrote his own version of Whitman's collection of poems, "Leaves of Grass,"  by changing the words and setting the poems to music. Here in Part 2, I would like to share a poem that I wrote years ago, "Lifedream," and the story behind it. 

Even though my dad was a talented songwriter, his true love was singing.  His favorite singer was Teddy Pendergrass whose albums he often played at family gatherings, exclaiming, "Listen how Teddy sings this note! Nobody can sing like Teddy!" This prompted teasing from my aunt who told him, "You talk about him like he's your friend! 'Hey Teddy, let's go outside and play ball!'" My dad loved Pendergrass, but he judged other singers very harshly, and I could never understand why.  They all sounded good to me, and I figured that since they were on TV, they had to be good!  I never had the courage to actually sing in front of my dad.  Instead, I blared albums on my record player and sang along with my favorite singers at the time, Donna Summer and Diana Ross, behind the closed door of my bedroom.  I'll never forget the thrill I had on a car ride with my mom on the way to applepicking when she mentioned that my dad told her he had heard me singing in my room, and if I studied, I had the potential of becoming a really good singer.  My dad didn't throw singing compliments around lightly, so the joy I felt at that moment was monumental.  I immediately enrolled in singing lessons and continued them even after he died.  I knew singing was the closest I could be to him, and it was a way to make him proud of me. When I turned eighteen, I moved to Boston to study singing and songwriting at Berklee College of Music. I needed to know what truly made a singer good or bad.  Otherwise, I feared I'd become one of those singers that my dad would have hated!

College life and living in the dorms were not kind to my voice.  The stuffiness of the dorm rooms exacerbated my allergies, and the beer drinking and late nights roaming the halls screaming and being silly made my voice hoarse.  At one point, I was limited to a three-note range.  My voice teacher recommended an ear, nose and throat specialist to examine my vocal cords.  The diagnosis wasn't good. I had the beginnings of vocal nodules, simply called "nodes," which are benign growths on the vocal cords that develop when people abuse their voices.  The struggle to heal my voice was difficult and depressing. I stopped drinking beer and staying up late.  I stopped singing and screaming in the hallways.   But I kept on writing.  The following poem, "Lifedream," is a metaphorical poem I wrote to my vocal cords, expressing my sadness and disappointment and my fear that my voice would never come back:

"Lifedream"

I will shelter you like a thin sheet of ice./Put you in a tiny box./Preserve you till I'm ready.  

No, I'd never give you up./Never give up skating.

But you and I don't think alike./Never meant to hurt you./And up until the end of time,/I'll never give up skating. 

But maybe I can't save the ice./My body crushed and crumbling through./If I can't live my life on ice,/I'll never love you true.

I will shelter you and hold you tight./Together we will move.

If I fall through this sheet of ice,/My life's dream I will lose.

Slowly, my vocal range came back.  In fact, my voice teacher told me she had never seen anyone overcome vocal damage to the extent that I was able to with no outside medical treatment. But I still felt I would never be able to sing as well as my dad would have wanted me to.  Anytime I had a late night or was run down, my sensitivity to hoarseness acted up.  My voice teacher also told me that my speaking voice was harsh and very different from my singing voice.  She said you must speak the same way that you sing but that trying to speak in a way that wasn't natural to me might change my personality. I didn't want to do that, and eventually, I just decided that if I couldn't sing as well as my dad, there was no use in singing at all.  It all turned out okay though because I'm happy now writing novels.  Plus, it's been beautiful to rediscover my poem and to remember those days when singing was so meaningful to me.

Madonna Is Here To Disturb The Peace

 

Me as a teen, dressed up as Madonna, when I auditioned for a Pepsi commercial

Recent picture of Madonna I have framed on my desk

"Artists are here to disturb the peace." This James Baldwin quote is the theme behind Madonna's new concert/art film, "Madame X."   Many of the late novelist's quotes are visible behind the musicians and dancers as they perform in "Madame X," and Madonna adds one of her own when she says, "We aren't here to be popular, we're here to be free." 

The first time I heard Madonna's music, I was a teenager growing up in Staten Island, New York, and the song "Physical Attraction" came on my bedroom radio.  I thought "Madonna" was an all-female soul group, but then I saw her on Dick Clark's "American Bandstand" show and was surprised she was one person!  When Clark asked her what she aspired to, she answered, "I want to rule the world." I thought she sounded arrogant, but it turns out she was right.  Shortly after that, I watched her perform "Like a Virgin" live on the MTV Video Music Awards, and her fame just skyrocked.  Suddenly, girls and teenagers wanted to be Madonna and started dressing up like her. I did this too one time when I auditioned for a Pepsi commercial, hence the top photo in this blog.  I didn't get the commercial, but I did make it past the first round, and it was fun to spend the day dressed as Madonna!

I still have my clipping of Madonna in "Time" magazine - May 27, 1985

A couple of years later, I was off to college.  When I met my college bestie, Lauren, we bonded over the surprising discovery that we both chose to go to Berklee College of Music because "'Til Tuesday" singer/songwriter Aimee Mann went there.  By that point, I thought it wasn't cool to like Madonna anymore.  Instead, Aimee Mann was the type of cool punk-pop singer I wanted to be.  Even so, one night, I admitted to Lauren that I "sort of still liked Madonna."  Lauren said there was nothing wrong with that and told me she liked Madonna too!  I felt at that moment, I was never going to grow out of liking Madonna.  In my mind, she was now officially here to stay.

While still at Berklee, I got a job at Tower Records.  One day, I was stocking one of my sections in the back of the Rock/Pop floor when Madonna's "Vogue" video came on a TV that was above my head. It was the first time I had ever seen it, and I was mesmerized at what a celebration of music and art it was! Sometimes, I still get teary-eyed when I hear "Vogue" because it reminds me of that moment I first saw the video, crouching in the middle of the Tower Records floor.  It takes me back to that time period in my life, living on my own for the first time and working to support myself in my own apartment.  Madonna's music has been with me at many stages of my life, and when an artist has been around for so long, each song jogs a different memory.  

I also saved my article of Madonna in NYC's "Daily News Magazine" - June 2, 1985

Earlier this month, in anticipation of "Madame X," I rewatched Madonna's first concert movie, "Truth or Dare," from 1991. When I later watched "Madame X," I noticed a vast difference between today's Madonna and the Madonna of thirty years ago.  The Madonna of "Madame X" is a wiser Madonna.  It is reflected in her music.  "Truth or Dare" is a concert film filled with pop music, and the lyrics are focused on herself. On the "Madame X" album, her lyrics are socially conscious, and the songs incorporate several different styles of music from different parts of the world. Her song "Batuka" was written in the style of Batuque music which is from Cape Verde and is considered one of its oldest music forms.  Batuque music was created by women and was always played by women.  My favorite part of the "Madame X" film is when she performs her song "Batuka" with an all-female band of drummers ranging in ages from teenagers to older women.  Batuque music was banned by the church because drumming was considered "rebel" music, yet somehow it survived and is still played by women today.  As Madonna says in "Madame X," "Women are powerful." 

There is a joke in the "Truth or Dare" movie that backup singer/dancer Niki Haris makes, saying there will be a Madonna "Like a Virgin" tour in 2025.  Now, we are only four years away from 2025, and Madonna is still touring in her early sixties!  Performers like Madonna and The Rolling Stones are sometimes criticized for still rocking out in their later years.  Even more troubling to some is the fact that Madonna is dating a man thirty-six years younger than she is.  This is another thing she has in common with The Rolling Stones, as singer Mick Jagger has been dating much younger women for many years. Maybe Madonna and Mick Jagger date such young people because they need a partner who matches their amazing energy? 

Madonna proves to us every day that older women are meant to be celebrated instead of being put out to pasture.  I love how the "Madame X" movie begins with a montage of Madonna's sexual moments of controversy throughout her entire career, and at the end of the montage, Madonna says that what is actually the most controversial thing about her is that she stuck around.  

Madonna and her boyfriend, Ahlamalik Williams, celebrating her 62nd birthday in Jamaica (usmagazine.com)