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.
The piano never plays the melody. It never even comes *close* the melody. What it does, though, is perfectly decorate that melody.
It *implies* Patsy Cline's voice.
I ask them to listen again, several times, and this time to memorize the piano part.
And then, just then, after they realize what a brilliant accompaniment it is, and how it never touches the melody, and how it backs that melody so fucking hard no listener *ever* forgets it, and how it comes from a person who has been playing for so fucking long, and just fucking *thinks* like that.
Then they're ready to learn about jazz.
Jazz has nothing to do with country music, of course. And it's not just talented accompaniment, or old hands who could play that shit after you dragged their drunk ass into a cold shower and shoved an instrument in front of them.
And yet.
It *does*.
...worry...
...why do I let myself worry...
...wonderin' what in the world did I do?...