Losing my voices

14 01 2016

051726b3b9c2504494417355e49585450db82-wmSome of my pals tell me they are visual types, focused on how a thing looks to determine how they feel about it, or him or her.

Not me. I’m a voice gal. I used to swoon regularly listening to Long John Baldry’s deep voice, especially his “Oh, Baby!” on “You’ve lost that Loving Feeling”. I croon along with Hugh Laurie in the car, delighting in his deep tones. Matt Andersen gets my money whenever he appears in town. I get phone calls every once and awhile from a fellow I’ve never met, but I’m always delighted to hear from him because he has a glorious “radio” voice. I’ve been known to assault unwary waiters with the suggestion they look for voice work.

Add an accent and I am as liquid as a cat.

So when David Bowie passed away this past week, I was left saddened but not tragically so. His reedy voice never turned me on. Too hip and tight.

But Alan Rickman????? His loss grieves me to the core.

I’ve watched every movie he was in. I swear to the gods I’d listen to him reading a grocery list, my head tilted forward, ears turned greedily toward the sound. I wish I’d had a chance to hear him on stage.

Why is he no longer among us? I feel bereft, so sad, just like when I heard of the loss of Long John Baldry. My favourite voices are slipping away….

Of course everyone knows Rickman as Snape, the evil/good character from Harry Potter, but I love him best for his role in Dogma, as the Metatron, the Voice of God. If my god had a voice, I’d sure as heck want him to sound like Alan Rickman. I’d be ever so much better behaved if only there was an Alan Rickman talking crossly and then gently to me. Heck, a Voice like his could simply say hello and I’d vow to be good forevermore.

Maybe he’ll get a voice over job up THERE? I can only hope.

Until then, I shall simply keep on sinning, with a deep bass background…

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Whisper in my ear…..

Thank you, A.R. You’ve made my life immeasurably richer.

 

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I have seriously died and gone to heaven…

26 03 2013

Oh my oh my oh my!
Sometimes there is such joy living here in Halifax that I could seriously split my facial muscles smiling.
Yes, it’s all about the sea and the sand and the ships and the smell of the ocean and the fog and the skree of seagulls and all of that.
But it’s also about quaint shops and odd little spots like Plan B or Swoon and cafes and little pubs and all that…
And poetry readings and book launches and writers hanging out….
But I have to admit I love the easy access live music the very best.
I cannot believe, for example, that my hero and all time favourite musician, Matt Andersen, is bringing his glorious self to the Carleton, an intimate venue with the best sound system in any bar I’ve seen, anywhere. I am overwhelmed. And for the extreme cost of $25 a ticket!! I could perish with happiness. But not til after May 7th!!!!!!!
I’ve already seen James Hill, my ukulele hero, and Anne Davidson, his cello virtuoso partner, at the Carleton. I’ve been overwhelmed by Ashley McIsaac and his fiddle, so close I could watch each individual bow hair break as he played.
The Carleton is magnificent, but so are the smaller venues – the charming Cafe Brea with concerts now and again that bring the musician right to your table to drink a coffee with you. And the coffee is great.
The house concerts, too, where I first met PEI musicians Gordon Belcher and
And then the bigger venues, from whence I shall peer from the nosebleed section at the amazing Leonard Cohen in a few weeks. I don’t care how far away he is, in Halifax, even the nosebleed section is relatively intimate, and hey, that voice can transport me even if I heard it across a football field – as Nancy White once mourned, he’ll never bring my groceries in, but a girl can dream, can’t she?
Meanwhile, I feel like I can wallow in music all over the place here. It permeated the buildings, rocks the fog, makes my heart sing.
Sometimes I even accompany it on my ukulele, with about 50 other people. But that’s another story…








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