Is it strange that whilst I read all three of the texts I listened to Patsy Cline’s ‘Crazy’ over and over again? Like 100 times. This song has never really been part of my life and it’s truly a song I only know through association.
CRAZY for feeling so lonelllllllyyyyyyy.
Crazy for feeling soOOOOOooo blllllooooooooooooooooooooo
I KNEEW…. you’d love me, as looooonnnngggg AAASsss you wantiiidddd
WHY DO I LET MYSELF WURRYYYYYYY
WHAT IN THE WHARLD DID I DO OOOOO OOOOOOOOOOO…. OOOOHHH CRAZY
CRAZY... FOR THINKIN THAT MY LOVE COULD HOLD YOOOOOOOOOOOU
IM CRAZY FOR TRYIN
AND IM CRAYZAY FOR CRYIN
AND IM CRAZY FOR LOVIIIIIIIIINNN YOU
What comes first? The words or the tune? Singing embodies what Deleuze declares the third possibility,
‘...when saying is doing. This is what happens when the stuttering no longer affects preexisting words, but itself introduces the word in affects…’
Patsy Cline coos the vocal anguish of trying to hold love, feeling lonely, disappointed and telling us over and over and over again that she IS crazy. I tried to type out the song as it played pretty unsuccessfully. Apart from the fact that my fingers couldn’t keep up or fully express her melancholic drawl and warble; I kept getting caught up on how she enunciates certain words like ‘world’ as ‘WHARLD.’ After doing some pretty solid research (beginning in the YouTube comments of this song,) I discover that Patsy Cline hated this song and had at first refused to record it. In June, 1961, she was almost killed in a head-on car crash and was incapacitated with multiple injuries for months. At the recording session, she had to bail out as her ribs were still hurting from the crash. Owen Bradley, her producer, decided to record the instrumentals and then 2 weeks later, still on crutches, Patsy recorded the song (written by a very young, pre-fame Willie Nelson) in a single take. Using a newly developed 4-track tape recorder, the 2 sessions were seamed together and the rest is history.
Listening to the song again makes me second guess the drawl, the breathy drag of oooooooooo as actual, physical, bodily pain. Being a producer, empath, entertainer and reluctant participant under duress is only too familiar as a woman. What in the WHARLD. The ‘crazy’ woman is something I think about a lot, especially as a woman teetering on the edge of a psychic shakedown precipice; backdropped against a sea of egos and competition at american grad school. As an artist I am currently filled with urgency to sound out. Returning to language has been enabling, not to ‘say it without doing it’ to quote Deleuze, but to use language as a tool for sensation. How can I say the thing to you without actually saying the thing?! To truly embody a language that ‘trembles from head to toe’ to allow failure, mistakes, variation and rupture. Deleuze says,
‘When a language is so strained that it starts to stutter, or to murmur or stammer… then language in its entirety reaches the limit that marks its outside and makes it confront silence.’
The desperate desire I have to connect, to be heard is actually facilitated by language’s failure, with every slip of the tongue I get closer to myself and the voice that I will choose to sing with.
‘Some Notes About Song (for Yasmine Hamdan) in John Berger’s book Confabulations,
‘Songs refer to aftermaths and returns, welcomes and farewells. Or to put it another way: songs are sung to an absence. Absence is what inspired them and it’s what they address. At the same time (and the phrase ‘at the same time’ take on a special meaning here) in the sharing of the song the absence is also shared and so becomes less acute, less solitary, less silent. And this ‘reduction’ of the original absence during the sharing of the singing, is collectively experienced as something triumphant. Sometimes a mild triumph, often a covert one.
...Songs can express the inner experience of Being and Becoming at this historical moment - even when they are old songs. Why? Because songs are self contained and because songs put their arms around historic time. Songs put their arms around historic time without being utopian.
...In any utopian vision happiness is obligatory. This means that in reality it’s unobtainable. Within their utopian logic compassion is a weakness. Utopias despise the present. Utopias substitute Dogma for Hope. Dogmas are engraved; hopes flicker, by contrast, like the flame of a candle.’