Passings

Here are some musings on three recent artist passings.

Nate Dogg: My late friend Tom Terrell and I once spent a hilarious lunch many moons ago at the now-shuttered Acme Diner musing about all the things we would have the then-ubiquitous Nate Dogg sing. (Among the more inspired – and fit for public viewing - suggestions were the instructions on our answering machines, the introduction to every single news program on television and the usually dull explanation about the voting rules on award shows.) But that’s how pervasive his vocals - most notably on Warren G’s "Regulate" – were. If there was a hook to be sung, Nate Dogg sang the hell out of it. It was as if he treated each vocal as if it was a juicy cameo appearance in a major motion picture; it might not have been the starring role but you were sure gonna remember it.

Loleatta Holloway: Without a doubt, the best way to have experienced Loleatta Holloway was at a crowded, cavernous club. Picture being in the midst of a packed dance floor, at a time long past the witching hour, at the end of a long workweek, clothes drenched with the sweat of hours of terpsichorean delight, body close to exhaustion when the powerful gospelish vocals of this lifeforce comes blaring through the speaker system. A voice so strong it would cause the grooving throng to simultaneously let out an orgiastic moan in response, forget their physical fatigue and dance into a collective ecstasy.

Such was the gift of Loleatta Holloway. On jams like “Love Sensation,” “Hit And Run” and “Runaway” with the Salsoul Orchestra, she practically propelled her listeners to boogie on down. While she could also be a subtly soulful singer – check out “Worn Out Broken Heart” and her much-underrated duet with Bunny Sigler “Only You” - it was high energy tracks like the lengthily-titled “I May Not Be There When You Want Me (But I’m Right On Time)” that ensured her disco diva status.

Best of all was her guest appearance on Dan Hartman’s “Vertigo/Relight My Fire.” An engaging dance song with an unusual symphonic sweep is transformed into a bonafide classic about 6:35 into it when Holloway blasts onto the scene. Screaming “I’ve got to be strong enough to walk on through the night,” her full-throttle entrance kicks the tune into the stratosphere. (Mela Machinko has a similar effect on Pharoahe Monch’s “Shine.”) Amazingly, Holloway maintains the same intensity for the next 3:08 – relegating Hartman to background duties on his own song - until the track finally fades out as if happily drained by her vigorous vocalizing. And that spirited singing is what finally distinguishes Loleatta Holloway from a host of others. No matter what the inherent quality of the song – even on so-so fare like “Mama Don’t, Papa Won’t” and “Dance What Cha Wanna” – she never cheated her listeners. She always left it all on the mike.

Elizabeth Taylor: Forget the whole Cleopatra controversy – I mean, c’mon, has anyone ever expected Hollywood to be historically accurate? – the multiple illnesses and the eight marriages. What has to be remembered about Elizabeth Taylor – besides her preternatural beauty – is how many fine performances she gave throughout her career but especially in the ‘50s and ‘60s.

There was her ferocious Academy Award-winning turn – the one she deserved – as Martha in Who’s Afraid Of Virginia Woolf which she comes close to matching as the title role in The Taming Of The Shrew. There’s her quiet strength as Rock Hudson’s patient, wise wife in Giant. Or her emotional desperation in Cat On A Hot Tin Roof and Reflections In A Golden Eye in which both of her leading men – Paul Newman and Marlon Brando respectively – deal with themes of repressed homosexuality. The skill in which she delivers her climatic haunting monologue in Suddenly, Last Summer. The tenderness between Taylor and her screen papa Spencer Tracy in Father Of The Bride and Father’s Little Dividend.

My favorite performance of hers during this period is that of the rich girl Montgomery Clift pursues in A Place In The Sun. There are few sexier poignant moments in cinematic history then when Clift – back to the camera – is verbally unburdening himself to Taylor. As directed by George Stevens, the scene is a long take, a semi-obscured - by Clift’s body – close-up of Taylor’s gorgeous face. She lets the viewer see the impact each halting word of Clift has on her so by the time she physically pulls him in for a rib-crunching hug, the effect is as emotionally wrenching and sensually satisfying as any explicit sex scene in, say, Last Tango In Paris.

Why the roll call of roles? To make a simple point. When it comes to Elizabeth Taylor, acknowledge the tabloid stuff, respect the activism, sigh at the beauty but never forget the artistry. It is that, one hopes, which will be her lasting legacy.