Joe
Cocker died three days ago, which is the day my mother was born, ninety-eight years
ago. He lasted seventy years, my mother about ninety-five-and-a-half. He was a much better
singer, but I think it's pretty well impossible that he was a better person.
Anyway,
for some reason, this is my favourite Joe Cocker song. I like how he and the
band repeat themselves so often (not necessarily a bad thing). I also like --
no, I love -- the kick-the-shit-out-of-everything soulfulness of the vocal.
It's just there, like the sky. And because
of the day it was when I was loving all this, I started thinking about the soulfulness my mother brought
to her life. She wasn't a singer (see above), but, oh my, did she have soul.
It
makes not a shred of sense to believe that he and she are now residing in the
same neighbourhood, but there should be some flights of fancy you get to allow
yourself. Death may be real, but it's still unacceptable, and the only thing
you get to fight back with is love. Joe Cocker wasn't talking about my mother
(heaven forbid! -- this song is about erotic love), but you can't waste
coincidences. Heaven seldom gets wedged open even a crack, so I'm taking what
I'm getting while the taking and getting are good.
No comments:
Post a Comment