Patsy Cline, "Crazy".
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Difficult for me to express how important this song is to me.
My parents were divorced in 1965, when I was just 5 years old. (Within a year, I became the adult of my family, part of my trauma experience, but that's not the story just now.)
Sometimes, my mom would get in a mood. Now I can say "as one does", tho I didn't know that then. And she'd crack a beer, and pace around the house. She'd put on Patsy Cline.
And so I was exposed to one of the greatest vocalists of 20th century popular music.
Exposed in a situation in which a young empath could connect the *grief* to the *music* and the *voice*.
Don't mistake me, there are much worse fates than being exposed to a parent's awful sadness while the astonishing Patsy Cline sang it out loud.
As you know, I'm kinda a jazz head. What you might not know is that I have been called upon, from time to time, to introduce noobs to jazz.
I always start here, actually.
With Patsy Cline, "Crazy".
Bop-heads be all "what in the fucking fuck are you talking about!?!? Patsy Cline isn't jazz!!"
Yes. I am aware of that. But still I start with that take.
It's a lovely song, and she has an absolutely unique voice, and I remind them that Willie Nelson wrote the song, and it was prolly his first and biggest hit as a songwriter.
And then I ask them to listen to it, and indeed, memorize it.
When they're sure they know it, I ask them to listen to it again, only this time, to ignore Patsy.
Instead, concentrate on Floyd Cramer's piano. Cramer was eventually well-known in country circles for his talent, but at that time, tho he was an old hand, nobody had really heard of him.
The piano is *flawless*.
Cramer was, as I say, an old hand, and he could do that kind of thing, like most session musicians, in his sleep.
...worry...
...why do I let myself worry...
...wonderin' what in the world did I do?...