Skip to main content

My Evening with Cher

Cher is 73--as she'll freely tell you--and she has a few grudges.

Here's what I learned from her intermittently puzzling concert, at Barclays, Thursday night:

*In a long, rambling, actually disconcerting monologue, Cher recalled being forty. Jack Nicholson and a director had met with her. Then the director called Cher and said: "Jack and I think you are too old and unsexy to be in THE WITCHES OF EASTWICK." Cher was devastated.

*The part of the story that seemed to have a "parable" aura: After crying for a long while, Cher noticed how attractive and compelling her own tears were. She knew she could make creative use of these tears. And I think--though Cher spelled out very little on Thursday night--she was offering this WITCHES OF EASTWICK story as an example of how she rises above adversity. How she makes flowers from manure. But we didn't find out what changed with EASTWICK--how Cher ended up in the movie after all that pain. Instead, Cher made an abrupt non-transition to a story about David Letterman, a story in which she publicly called Letterman an asshole.

*"Song for the Lonely" seems like a canonical Cher work, and one that should be included in any farewell tour, but it's missing from the current tour.

*Cher--of course--pioneered "autotune" with her big post-death-of-Sonny single, "Believe." ("I looked at my tears and thought....these are attractive and compelling....") What people forget is that Cher actually can sing--and after "Believe," many non-singing artists used autotune as a way to try to mask their lack of ability.

*Did you know that when Cher appeared on that ship in the video for "If I Could Turn Back Time," those were actual U.S. Navy men surrounding her? There's a current of patriotism running through her work; "Song for the Lonely" eventually earned a dedication to the rescue workers who popped up after 9/11.

*In youth, Cher did not actually have clear music aspirations. She simply wanted to be famous. There's something refreshing about her candor--when she recalls this wish. Sonny hoped to groom her to be a solo artist, but she was a bit intimidated at first, and she insisted that Sonny appear in front of the camera with her. She willed herself to perform by just imagining that she was singing to Sonny.

*A particularly appealing segment of the current tour has Cher recalling her fondness for Elvis, then dressing as Elvis and offering a cover of "Walking in Memphis." The none-too-subtle backdrop has an old theater painted on it, with a marquee: "Come see Che-lvis....Live in Concert!"

This is simply a brief letter from Brooklyn, in case you were unable to see the actual event. The lady is in fine form. She is telling us all to be a bit more outlandish and ambitious in our daily lives, and God Bless Her for that!

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

How to Host a Baby

-You have assumed responsibility for a mewling, puking ball of life, a yellow-lab pup. He will spit his half-digested kibble all over your shoes, all over your hard-cover edition of Jennifer Haigh's novel  Faith . He will eat your tables, your chairs, your "I {Heart] Montessori" magnet, placed too low on the fridge. When you try to watch Bette Davis in  Hush Hush Sweet Charlotte , on your TV, your dog will bark through the murder-prologue, for no apparent reason. He will whimper through Lena Dunham's  Girls , such that you have to rewind several times to catch every nuance of Andrew Rannells's ad-libbing--and, still, you'll have a nagging suspicion you've missed something. Your dog will poop on the kitchen floor, in the hallway, between the tiny bars of his crate. He'll announce his wakefulness at 5 AM, 2 AM, or while you and another human are mid-coitus. All this, and you get outside, and it's: "Don't let him pee on my tulips!" When...

Raymond Carver: "What's in Alaska?"

Outside, Mary held Jack's arm and walked with her head down. They moved slowly on the sidewalk. He listened to the scuffing sounds her shoes made. He heard the sharp and separate sound of a dog barking and above that a murmuring of very distant traffic.  She raised her head. "When we get home, Jack, I want to be fucked, talked to, diverted. Divert me, Jack. I need to be diverted tonight." She tightened her hold on his arm. He could feel the dampness in that shoe. He unlocked the door and flipped the light. "Come to bed," she said. "I'm coming," he said. He went to the kitchen and drank two glasses of water. He turned off the living-room light and felt his way along the wall into the bedroom. "Jack!" she yelled. "Jack!" "Jesus Christ, it's me!" he said. "I'm trying to get the light on." He found the lamp, and she sat up in bed. Her eyes were bright. He pulled the stem on the alarm and b...

My Favorite Pop Song

  One thing I admire about Prince is his weirdly pretentious verses: Dream, if you can, a courtyard-- An ocean of violets in bloom. Also: Touch, if you will, my stomach. Feel how it trembles inside. No one else writes like this. Did people try to shoot down these choices? Did a producer say, "We'd like to rethink this one... Touch, if you will, my stomach...."  I can't help but wonder. But it's the chorus that makes this a classic. It's direct and universal--and it ends with that bizarre flourish, the allusion to "the crying doves." (Prince's song was number one in America for quite a while; it defeated Bruce Springsteen's "Dancing in the Dark.") How can you just leave me standing-- Alone in a world that's so cold? Maybe I'm just too demanding. Maybe I'm just like my father--too bold. Maybe you're just like my mother; She's never satisfied. Why do we scream at each other? This is what it sounds like when doves cr...