Nat "King" Cole
Your voice, equal parts cocoa powder and honey.
The way you play piano, every finger doing it's own little happy dance across the keys.
Many of your songs are anthems. Stand. Dance to the Music.
The rest are secrets, hushed quadrophonic lullabies. Small Talk. In Time.
Siouxsie Sioux and Nina Hagen
So many teens tried to be her before realizing only Siouxsie can be Siouxsie.
And as for Nina, Born in Xixax separates the men from the boys, doesn't it?
I take his songs for granted now. Some ditty on the radio in a rented car.
But he first time I heard Little Wing when I was 14, I cried.
I saw her with The Jazz Passengers at a club in California. And when she marched
through the audience singing The Tide Is High, she spun around and pointed at me. Mind blowing.
Your voice, a horn.
Your power, a galaxy.
Venus as a Boy, the Artist as a Girl.
Gears turning. What is she thinking? Already creating?
Me, 20, San Francisco, cigarette perched between two fingers, Thelonious on the turntable.
There was an air of sophistication I was trying to procure. It didn't stick.