An interesting early article from the Soho
Weekly News, September 14, 1978.
PAT BENATAR: RELUCTANT SEX SYMBOL
-Michael Shore
It was a dreary, rainy night in New York when I went down to Tramps to see Pat
Benatar. I was not, shall we say, in the proper mood: My allergies had been
bothering me a lot, I had caught a cold on top of them, my sneaker-clad feet were so wet
they made grunting sounds when I walked. And then I found out that my beloved Red
Sox were 10 runs down in the fifth inning during the biggest Sox-Yanks series of the year.
As I said, I wasn't in the mood to see a rising young woman singer who had been described
by members of the press as a "sultry, sexy dynamo" and "better than
Ronstadt or Nicks". But before she finished her second song, I had forgotten
all about the rain, the game, my runny nose and my squeaky feet. Pat Benatar (rhymes
with "rising star") - is that good.
Still I wouldn't exactly call her a sultry
dynamo. Her stage presence isn't yet anything to write home about, but her looks are
enough to get her by: cheekbones you could see from a mile away, and sculpted
features somewhere between Stevie Nicks and Joni Mithchell, a little homey, a little
funky, with exotic and sensual thrown in. She doesn't move around all that much (who
could on Tramps tiny stage?), but she smiles alot. Her voice is what really commands
your attention.
Technically, she's a coloratura, with a range she gauges at about three-and-ahalf
octaves. Her singing is nothing like Ronstadt's or Nicks' or anyone else's for that
matter: Working in her own crystalline middle-high range, she swoops registers
easily from ethereal soprano sighs to nasal/throaty "naa-naas" that remind me of
nobody but Stevie Wonder. For the most part, she infuses the clarity of an Annie
Haslam with a unique, unpretentious soulfulness.
Orbison, Pink Floyd and the Rascals
She opens with "It Ain't Easy," which you may know from Bowie's Ziggy
Stardust. Pat's version is a little looser and funkier; nice. She sets
the pattern for the night on the next tune, a slow ballad called "It's
Over," when midway through she suddenly begins belting out some viscera-drenched
wails that raise the hair on my neck. "Oceans Away" doesn't really go
anywhere special, but is a more than pleasant diversion nonetheless. Then come the
real surprises: a Roy Orbison song - any female singer who does Roy Orbison in a
downtown cabaret has to be special - called "Crying." Again slow, mournful
and torchy; and again when she suddenly jumps registers midway through I can feel
something drop in the pit of my stomach. Then a reggae version of "Stairway to
Heaven"! - and don't look now, but that played-out old chestnut translates
fabulously well, especially with Pat adding some authentic-sounding Jamaican
inflections: "Dear lady can-a ya hear de wind buh-low?..." Towards
the end, she freaks out in pure, slow burning orgastic release, moaning and shrieking like
no one since Clare Torrey on Pink Floyd's "Great Gig in the Sky" from Dark Side
of the Moon.
She let's up with a slow "Don't Let It Show," which is quite touchingly
rendered, the comes back for her encores. First is an old Rascals number, "You
Better Run": an inspired selection, a nasty rocker done with mean,
authoritative flair by her tight, bouncy band, and Pat's no-nonsense vocals absolutely
bitchin'. Then a funky redo of McCartney's "Letting Go": a
rollicking piano solo and a roaring, soul burning finish, and then it's over. More
than one person yells for more, but that's it. As I trudge back out into the night,
I'm feeling a whole lot better than when I walked in there. The Sox lost by a dozen
runs - damn. But at least it isn't raining anymore. Now I'm not saying Pat
Benatar works miracles, but I will say this: She has a great voice and great looks,
enormous taste in cover material, and a fine band. Best of all, she really can't be
directly compared to any female singer I can think of. So it was with renewed
interest that I went - cold, allergy, and all - to her Yorkville apartment for an
interview.
Things About To Go My Way
In person, Pat Benatar is considerably smaller than she looks on
stage. She smiles and laughs a lot. You
become comfortable with her quickly and easily. "Terry Ellis, the president of
Chrysalis, couldn't believe how small I was. He picked me up from the stage to put
me on the floor, and he stopped before I reached the floor! He looked down and said,
'My God, you are really small!'" And she laughs some more.
With good reason: Things are starting to break her way.
A recent deal with Chrysalis, whispers that Todd Rundgren may produce her album,
appearances on Midday Live and NewsCenter 4 and near-unanimous praise
from the press. Over Perrier, white wine, cheese and fruit, we trace her career.
"I always wanted to sing. I started in the sixth grade,
and everyone told me back then that I'd be a star because I loved to show off all the
time. Not that my voice was that great back then, I just loved the spotlight.
My mother said she thought I'd grow up to be a stripper. But I always went out for
the school plays, and I always got the lead roles in the musicals. So I got worked
into that kind of stuff, you know? MOR, musical comedy stuff. But I always
wanted to do rock."
I suggested she must have been into rock at an early age to pick
up on singers like Orbison and the Rascals.
"Yeah, I always loved it, but people always told me that my
voice was too clear and clean to do rock 'n' roll. So I never did it that much,
except by myself... I went through school, and high school, kind of fell out of it.
Then I got out of school and got married, and my husband Dennis went into the army
so we had to move down South. Me, a Long Island girl. We were in South
Carolina and Virginia, and that was where I first started getting into rock singing."
"I was down there working as a bank teller - and I still
can't believe it - and these real redneck characters would come up to the window and see
my name on the plate and say, 'Bu-nay-tuh? That ain't a local name, is it?'
And I'd tell hem I was from New York and they'd move to the next window and give me these
surly looks! I was getting sicker and sicker of looking at other people's money all
day, and wishing I could sing, and then I saw Liza Minelli or someone at a coliseum down
there and that did it. I just said to myself 'The hell with this shit, I cant' do
this anymore.' I was all crazed out, and I quit the bank job the next day."
Singing For the Brown-Baggers
"They had this club in
Enon, Virginia, called the Roaring Twenties, and I went there for some work. It was
one of those deals where there was no open liquor, everyone brown-bagged it...really
weird. And you had to work as a waitress and get up there with salad dressing on
your stockings or lobster on your skirt - we had to wear these ridiculous flapper outfits,
with garters and everything - and the people would just keep eating and talking. You
were like live muzak up there. But those guys could be so obnoxious. They'd
grab my garter and hold me to the table and say, 'Now, what'll happen if I pull on this
garter?' The first time it happened I told the guy I'd put his fucking eye
out!"
But it didn't take her long to tire of that routine, and when Pat
met someone else interested in getting up a rock band, she jumped at the chance.
"I started getting into rock, bar band stuff: covering
Motown and 'Proud Mary', that sort of thing. It was great experience for me because
I'd never performed like that before. After a very short time I got sick of seeing
these crackers in the audience rolling cigars around in their mouths; then when
Dennis got out and we came back up here and I was really anxious to perform in New York.
So I went to Catch A Rising Star, the Monday night audition thing, y'know...this
was about two, two-and-a-half years ago. And the first time I sang there, after I
finished, I just closed my eyes real tight because I was so scared to see what the
reaction would be. And everyone was standing up and clapping! Rick Newman came
up and hugged me and said come back, and from that it just slowly developed to where it is
now."
Okay; so how do you feel about being compared to Linda and
Stevie? Pretty fast company, don't you think?
"Yeah, it makes me feel very weird. I'm flattered by
it, sure, because I think both Linda and Stevie are great and to be compared to them is a
real compliment. But I don't know about all the sex-symbol stuff, I mean, I've seen
the things they've written about me being sultry and all that, and I don't really see
myself that way at all. To me I'm just a regular person, very straight, no
idiosyncrasies, a happy childhood, the whole thing...depressingly normal. But it's
something I've always wanted, always dreamed about, and it's just so exciting to see it
starting to happen. So there's that, versus my fears that it may get out of hand,
because, you know, the whole thing with getting an image and trying to live up to it can
be quite a hassle."
Did Pat think there were any current female singers she aspired to
be like - Ronstadt, for instance?
"Not really, no. I mean I think Linda's great - I just
saw her at Forest Hills and she was fantastic. But I
don't think of myself, you know, like the little flower on the stage. I want to
surprise people. I don't listen to many female singers, that's not where I get my
inspiration. I like male singers, like Robert Plant, Roger Daltry, like that.
I love English rock, that's my favorite, especially the stuff that's orchestrated;
like some of the Who's stuff, or Renaissance, or Yes, or some of Zeppelin's things.
I love strong vocals, and chorale type effects. I want to get some of that onto the
album; I don't want to be just another low-key laid-back woman singer. That's
not me, really."
To Punk or Not To Punk
How about the new wave?
"Well, there isn't much to it melodically, so on a musical
level I'm not sure, but I like anything that's new. I mean, look at Blondie, I llloooovve
Debbie Harry (Blondie's lead singer). She's so adorable, and her stuff is so well
done. It isn't really punk, right? It's just...pop. Now when people hear
me do the Rascals song they say, 'Oh that's your punk song, huh?' I'm not going punk
or anything, it's just a great song it makes me laugh." And with that she
throws back her head and laughs with a childlike glee.
Then she gets a bit more serious. She holds her hand in
front of her, palm up. "I want to be able to hold the audience, to have that
control." She opens and closes her fingers over the palm. "I want to
bring them up, take them down, make them feel what I'm feeling. I'm just trying to
project a sort of fantasy thing, you know? I want to take them away from where
they've been. I know that I go into another...dimension, or something, when I'm up
there. It starts when I'm making up before the show. I change into a
completely different person. And when I'm really into it, I'm sure as hell someplace
else. I'm not here, I'm far away. And if I can take them with me,
then I don't feel like I've jerked them off. Like the other night, after the show, a
guy came up to me and said the nicest thing anyone could have ever said to me. He
said, 'You touched me in places where I didn't even know I had places to be touched.'
That's what it's all about."
Note: Above pictures were not part of original article and are all
circa 1979-80.
Excerpts from another early article; After Dark,
September, 1979. This article also included; Ellen Foley, Nicolette Larsen and
Valerie Carter.
SONG BIRDS '79: FOUR FLIGHTS UP
-Brant Mewborn
From singing for her supper to winging toward superstardom, the emergence of an
exciting new songbird can be a flight for sore ears. So, as this decade fades into
the next, and while Barbra, Carly, Linda, Liza, and Cher, and even Judy, Joni and Joan
struggle to maintain altitude or threaten to go the way of all flash -disco- you should
know this: soaring forth from the flock of sirens-to-be are four fledglings whose
distinctive voices are already making waves in our sonic stratospheres. These little
girls with big voices, who migrated several dues-paying years ago from their provincial
nests to our two media meccas, have perched where the vibes jibe with their own. You
can hear it in their music. Ellen Foley and Pat Benatar mainline New York City
adrenaline. And now equipped with recording contracts and debut discs, they're ready
for some high flying aeronautics.
Like Manhattan,
the tough island city Ellen Foley and Pat Benatar have adopted as home, their music is
based on rock. Their first training may have been in legitimate musical theater, but
neither wants to be a Broadway belter like Ethel Merman, nor, on the other hand, a
powder-puff pop stylist like Olivia Newton-John. Ellen and Pat are cute but defiant,
and the scarcity of other ballsy female singers won't stop them from aiming for a place on
rock's male-heavy rooster roster. They can croon a ballad with the best of the torch
singers -and do- but you won't see them checking into Heartbreak Hotel. Their
intentions are bold and clear. They mean to rock-and-roll.