“Music can name the unnameable and communicate the unknowable.”
-Leonard Bernstein
When I was a kid, my mom listened to A LOT of Barbara Streisand. She had a very large collection of Streisand music on 8-track, album, and cassette. Growing up in the 70’s and 80’s during the height of Babs’ power, I experienced Disco Babs, Movie Star Babs, Director Babs, Broadway Babs, and several other iterations of Babs. (However, political Babs was later, which I was mercifully saved from.) Her infiltration was so complete that for many years I thought that she wrote “New York State of Mind” and was somewhat disappointed and underwhelmed when I heard the original by that hack Billy Joel.
Through mom’s love of Barbara and assisted by the welcome captivity that comes from being a child, I grew to love her music as well. I remember staring endlessly at the cover of the Streisand Superman record thinking that she sure was prettier than the actual Superman and that a Superman movie starring her would be a lot more interesting. At the time, I didn’t categorize her music per se, but just listened and appreciated it for what it was. Since she used an abundance of different writers and was comfortable covering other people’s songs, there was a good variety to her music, even though she is mainly categorized as “easy listening”. (Easy Listening is just that, comfort food for the ears. There’s not really that much for the listener to do rather than sit back and enjoy. Perhaps cozying up by the fire and enjoying a delicious cup of hot chocolate with your trusty lapdog Shep. Way more inviting than other genres with names as off-putting as Technical Death Metal, Grind Core, or Screamo. Thanks but no thanks.) Babs’ voice was powerful and unique, and she was able to elevate many songs with sparse and simple arrangements with her voice alone. She has recorded a couple of Christmas albums and even one in French. She also carved out an enviable niche with duets. Over her career, she has recorded with many distinguished singers including Frank Sinatra, Judy Garland, Ray Charles, Neil Diamond, Donna Summer, Celine Dion and also Don Johnson (a anomaly occurring when a lesser talented person dates or is married to someone more talented and accomplished than them in a different field, and that person is included in the more talented person’s artistic endeavor, which is why there is a Guy Ritchie-directed movie starring Madonna.)
Due to my Babs exposure, one of my favorite movies of all time is the Streisand-era A Star is Born. I wore out the soundtrack and watched the movie several times on VHS after mom recorded it from the Sunday afternoon movie of the week. (At one point in time, every movie we had in our collection was recorded from the Sunday afternoon movie of the week, interspersed with small clips of wrestling matches, music videos, and clips from Saturday Night Live. You’re welcome, mom.) It was the third filmed version of the story of a young apprentice that soon overshadows her mentor. It was the first one that was set in the music industry, and music was one of the main draws of the film. The soundtrack was number one on the Billboard charts for six weeks and certified quadruple platinum. The tunes that Kris Kristofferson fronted were massive anthems inhabited by an over-the-hill rocker. I was amazed at how the songs felt like a lived-in collection of greatest hits even though they were written special for the movie. Babs’ songs traced her as an artist in the movie from a talented and tentative amateur that gets pulled up on stage by her boyfriend, who is clearly burned out, to a confident star belting out the love theme from the movie. The soundtrack on its own told the story vividly, and I remember listening to it over and over again. It’s probably one of the reasons that I was so fascinated with live music and performing at a young age. I even sampled the beginning of the song “Queen Bee” for a song that I wrote many years ago. (I am pretty sure that there are no outstanding copyright issues since no one really heard the song and I lost the cassette years ago). I’m of the opinion that this soundtrack is much better than the most recent version, and I’m also willing to accept that I’m biased because my mom loved Barbara Streisand, and so did I.
Don’t get me wrong, mom and I shared a lot of other music together. We had a giant old console stereo with a built in record and 8-track player. (for the non initiated, I would describe the 8-track as the worst engineered music delivery system ever created with a seemingly random pattern of switching tracks in the middle of songs as well as the fact you could never rewind a song and car stereos loved to eat them.) The console stereo of my youth was the heaviest piece of furniture in the house and lived in my basement unused for many years until I recently repurposed it for blanket storage. (Possibly the only handy thing I have ever done in my life and it almost broke me). Music filled the house every weekend when we were home, and we also devoured Live from the Met on Saturday nights on PBS. I would practice piano for hours and mom, even though she appreciated me gaining the technical skills needed to play piano, also often asked me to play something that she knew and would be clearly annoyed when all I did was practice scales or make up my own songs. I’m not saying that she didn’t encourage me, but I think she was eager for a time when the music filling the house was that of her own son. I can’t remember many times that were we home together growing up when there wasn’t some type of music either playing in the background or as the main event. I have vague memories at a young age of pretending that I was a conductor as I furiously blazed my way through the 1812 Overture and always fell to the ground at the end after the Canons went off, obviously exhausted from all the conducting. There were also the lip synch/tennis racket guitar concerts I would give, highlighting “An evening with Elvis” as well as several Disco-themed Bee-Gees dance parties for one. Mom tried to appreciate the music that I was into at the time and claimed for a while that Jump by Van Halen was her favorite song, but I’m pretty sure that she just had a bit of a thing for David Lee Roth.
But Barbara was different. At the time I was not sure why. There was something about her songs that just clicked for mom. Babs’ songs came from a myriad of world-class writers, including Carole King, Barry Gibb, Alan and Marilyn Bergman, Diane Warren, Paul Williams, and Jim Steinman, so they covered many different perspectives and experiences. Those songs captured several different moods as well as periods of music that ensured no matter what you were going through there was a perfect song that fit. Even though Babs was fluent in all these styles, mom’s favorite was the ballad. At the time I think I preferred Disco Babs myself, and she even had the ability to turn a ballad into a disco tune halfway through (see Enough is Enough). Streisand shined on the ballads, something about her voice made you feel what she was singing, and mom certainly felt it.
As a child I have vague memories of mom being upset many evenings after dad left for the night. At the time, I did not know why she was upset, as she didn’t put me in the middle of it, but I did know something wasn’t quite right. Their relationship was both complicated and unconventional, and I wasn’t privy to the details until I was older. Dad left every evening during the week around 10:00pm, but he did stay with us during the weekends. This time was stressful for mom and many times music, and especially Streisand, would fill the house in the quiet when dad wasn’t there. Dad actually didn’t seem to enjoy music all that much, and we really never listened to much of anything when dad was there. But when he wasn’t, the TV went off and the music came on and up.
In 1984, when I was 9 years old, Barbara Streisand released Emotion. It was her 28th album. To say that she was prolific is an understatement. I remember it being a pretty good record, but mom wore it out. She listened to that record A LOT, and even bought me the sheet music to a couple of the songs so I could lean to play them. Those songs were sad, passionate and deeply felt. Make no Mistake, He’s mine and Left in the Dark. Songs about love, loss, resentment, jealousy, and complicated relationship themes that mom could relate to at the time. I think she resonated with these and other songs on the record because they helped her better connect with the things that she was feeling and gave words to feelings that she couldn’t. Bab’s vocal style personified the emotions that she was singing about, and they had a profound impact on mom. At the time, there was no one that mom could talk to about what was going on with her personally, but Babs was her confessor and therapist all rolled into one. Listening to those songs was therapeutic and helped mom get through some really difficult and confusing times in a way that no one else could. I certainly was aware that she was upset a lot and knew that something wasn’t right, but those were things that she couldn’t talk to me about, and rightfully so. I was just a kid, and she did her best to protect me.
The interesting thing about it looking back is that I don’t think mom was necessarily a big Barbara Streisand fan. Her songs came along at a time when she was going through some things and they became a vehicle for her to process what was happening in her life at the time and then move on from it. As I got older, I would give mom Babs related merch as a gift for holidays and even though she appreciated the thought, several of the later albums and DVD’s I gave her would go unwrapped. It always was a curiosity to me why she no longer seemed interested after having such a deep connection with her music when I was younger. Babs’ music helped her process things that she was going through at the time but wasn’t willing to dwell on. She wanted to move forward, and that’s what she did. She never really felt compelled to go back to that place. It’s fascinating and deeply meaningful to me how sharply my mom’s relationship to Babs and her music contrasts to my connection with the exact same artist.
When I listen to Barbara Streisand, I can’t help but think of mom. The same music and artist that helped mom through some very difficult times that she choose not to dwell on reminds me of incredible times that I often revisit when I start to miss her. She passed away 10 years ago, and I can honestly say she was one of the best friends I ever had. Sometimes in the car or at home, I’ll put on a Bab’s record and be instantly transported to simpler times, when it was just me and mom, and Babs. I view it as a true gift that we can still have this connection through music.
Explaining my affinity for Babs to people is difficult, and not a quick story. It’s actually a story about my love for my mom, and my appreciation for the person that helps me remember her best.