Song Reassignment Surgery; Bold Covers 6

Rape Me (Nirvana), 1993: Tanya Tagaq (2016)

...voices ought not to be measured by how pretty they are. Instead, they matter only if they convince you that they are telling the truth. 

Sam Cooke

Measure Tagaq as a truth genius. 

Listen to her TedTalk performance (below). Note the dervish intensity and human-to-animal sound spectrum ratio. If you can absorb her assault without your eyes guttering with tears, then your heart’s far sludgier than mine. Next, go to her version of Rape Me. 

Nirvana’s version – with Cobain’s lamentation on fame and as a victim of the zeitgeist – was the thesis; Tagaq writes the dissertation. 

In Tagaq’s mouth, Rape Me describes suffering

that’s less existential and far more literal: her whispers channel the agonies of ancestral generations and tortured contemporaries. And her whispers don’t just speak for the indigenous – as tragic and well-documented as their struggle has been – but for all women. Hear the heartbeat and the quiet restraint that imagines a victim’s solitude, soaked in toxic memories. Add to that whatever other tinglings you may get: patriarchy, parentage, class, duty, fear, etc. But there’s much more than rage at work here. Her registers, her guttural modulations, her sweetness and rage, the emotionality – her voice may be the chaotic psyche’s ultimate delivery system .

Tagaq says she didn’t begin throat singing herself until college. Though her indigenous culture had no history of throat singing, she’d re-engineer it to such a scale, it sounded like it was. And her record collection must be eclectic and edgy. Her approach ranges from uninhibited to feral. She’d first be introduced to a broader audience by another fellow warrior and vocal innovator, Björk. Tagaq would follow similar paths as her mentor’s but in an entirely different way. Both are aggressively elusive and hard reduce to something as simple as a category. Both sing with an intensity and commitment that is truly rare.

In the first video, see Björk and Tagaq join another aggressively elusive singer –
Mike Patton. 

In her TedTalk, Tagaq only sings. Her voice arrives from another plane entirely. Her throat astrally projects the spectrum of human emotional experience. Like a shaman from another dimension, she drops into a trance, channels voices, personalities, shadows, light, and other species. This is the kind of ecstatic performance Pentecostals dream of hacking but get nowhere near. She collects the essences of Yoko Ono, Shirley Temple, Diamanda Galas, Meredith Monk, Nina Hagen, the B-52s, throat and overtone singers, Asian traditions, Ornette Coleman's saxophone, animal and outer space noises. Her vocal palette, the colors and sounds at her disposal, are expansive enough to be seen from space. 

The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame: It Ain't Nirvana

Fifteen years ago, The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame Foundation was established by a group of record execs and attorneys. While legendary Atlantic Records producer and impresario Ahmet Ertegun and Rolling Stone publisher Jan Wenner had some involvement, the Hall of Fame does come off rather like an outfit run by suits. In fact, its present CEO – Joel Pressman, has had no previous music industry experience whatsoever. KISS's Paul Stanley had this to say about him:

Why not look at Joel Peresman’s credentials? What has he done to qualify him to run the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame? What did he do? He worked at Madison Square Garden as a Vice President. Well, as far as I’m concerned, delivering newspapers doesn’t qualify you as an expert on literature. 

Every year its list of inductees favors the big sellers while consistently skipping over many of the true innovators (e.g. Tom Petty, yes; Captain Beefheart, no). According to their website, their mission is to "recognize the people who have created this music which has become the most popular music of our time." Well then, mission accomplished.

Looking at the roster of inductees you'll note it isn't nearly as black and blues oriented as it should be. Ostensibly, The Hall of Fame's purpose is archival, tributary, and non-profit. Realistically, it also brings in oodles of money. (To offer some perspective, pro football teams are also considered non-profit.) Interestingly, artists who're honored are required to buy tickets for their guests and reserving tables can go for tens of thousands of dollars (see here for Johnny Rotten's ideas on that).

Anyway, this year they honored Nirvana. One might quibble with the band's choices for vocal replacements but the concept of featuring all female singers – both young and old – turned out to be a good one. The band's survivors and their guests comported themselves proudly. It was the young kiwi singer Lorde who provided the evening's highlight giving All Apologies an appropriately restrained twist. Saint Vincent offered her a toned down but decent Lithium but the other two guests – Joan Jett and Kim Gordon – despite gallant and courageous attempts, were asked to write checks too large for their voices to cash. (Really, who could sing Smells Like Teen Spirit?) As for the band's part, Dave Grohl is still one of the best bangers available and Krist Novoselic's bass lines were much improved over the dumbbell ones played on the records. (His accordion was a nice touch.) Sideman Pat Smear gave the proceedings the proper gusto.

Here's the full performance: skip to Lorde at 32:10:



Of course, the producers had the video taken down. Instead, here's a crappy camera phone version: