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AMÉLIE'S RETRO HELL
Welcome to the latest column in the IRS, Amélie's
Astro Hell. Every week she will start her column off with some song
that any of us old enough to turn on an AM radio have forgotten and
remind us why it is worth remembering. After that she'll review the
latest retro CD re-releases and fill us in on the trivia associated
with them all. Amélie is the most gifted keeper of trivia I know,
but with Amélie it is more than just being able to remember the year
that Bubble Yum came out, she also realizes the value of good memories
and how nostalgia has the power to turn any bad mood around. But she
also realizes that trivia does not always equal trivial. When she
tells us that Dusty Springfield was kicked out of South Africa in
1964 for refusing to play to racially segregated audiences, she is
also letting us know that the singer of "Son of a Preacher Man"
was also the harbinger of an artist driven social movement against
apartheid that would not take real hold until the 1980's. Ladies and
gentlemen, Amélie Frank. ED.
BRINGING OUT THE DEAD
This Issues Song to Remember
What do I know about Lighthouse? Like their
chart rivals The Stampeders (who were vying with "Sweet City Woman"),
the fine keepers of Lighthouse were Canadians. That's right . .
. they were northern lights. What fixes them so keenly in my affections
is their kick-ass horn section. Pop tunes with good horn charts
were far more common in the late '60s and early '70s with bands
like Chase, Blood Sweet & Tears, and the early Chicago. Lighthouse's
chops on "One Fine Morning" can dismantle any bad mood in under
five seconds, especially for this daughter of a big band leader.
Throw in lead singer Bob McBride's earnest polish (over all that
brass!) on funsy lyrics like "I'll buy you candies made of stardust
/ little dolls dressed up in moonbeams," and I can just play this
one over and over without getting bored. Bonus goody: the high adrenaline
opening guitar solo used to be played on radio commercials for motor
car events and funny car rallies at places like the Malibu Grand
Prix, so it evokes for me a Southern California where land, even
commercial land, was often used for fun stuff (as opposed to today's
mindless and rampant development of architecturally stultifying
housing most people here will never be able to afford). The song
has nothing special to say. One fine morning, Bob and his bitchin'
horn section will take his best girl out flying across the universe,
stopping along the way for celestial carnival prizes and sugary
snacks. Then "we'll fly to the east, fly to the west, no place we
can't call our own; we'll fly to the north, fly to the south, every
planet will become our home." For nothing special, though, it still
Here are the stats:
ONE FINE MORNING (album)
Recorded in 1970 at Thunder Sound Recording Studios, Toronto Canada
Released by GRT Records in Canada and Evolution Records in the USA
Produced by Jimmy Ienner
Mixed at O.D.O. Recording Studios, New York City
Engineered by Phil Sheridan
Mastered at Mercury Sound Studios by Gilbert Kong, New York City
Cover design by Brad Johannsen
One Fine Morning (song) written by Skip
Prokop arranged by Skip Prokop and Keith Jollimore clocking in at
Skip Prokop - drums, percussion and vocals
Paul Hoffert - piano and vibes
Ralph Cole - guitar and vocals
Louie Yacknin - bass
Bob McBride - lead vocals and percussion
Don Dinovo - viola
Dick Armin - cello
Pete Pantaluk - trumpet
Keith Jollimore - sax, flute and vocals
Howard Shore - sax
Larry Smith - trombone and vocals
Added percussion by the Maltese Falcon and the Edmonton Hawks
Added bass vocals by "Teeth"
If I'm not mistaken, that Canadian sax player,
Howard Shore, grew up to become the Canadian film composer (and
one of my faves) Howard Shore (THE SILENCE OF THE LAMBS, SEVEN,
ED WOOD). And one other famous name emerged from the ranks of Lighthouse,
but not from where you'd expect. It seems that during the band's
touring days, they employed the services of a young roadie from
Arkansas (oh yeah, my friends can see this one coming) named Billy
Bob Thornton. Maybe fine day Howard will eventually wind up scoring
one of Billy's movies... there's a happy reunion waiting to happen.
RETRO HELL REVIEWS
Hot August Night - Reissue
(Recorded in Concert at the Greek Theatre, Los Angeles)
To call the evening
of August 24, 1972, a seminal moment in Neil Diamond's career is
to acknowledge there is something rather onanistic about Mr. Diamond's
pose on the cover. That sure don't look like air guitar to me. However,
it's hard not to be mad about the boy, especially because he is
singing to "the tree people" at the Greek,_those plucky souls who
couldn't or wouldn't pay admission to see featured performers, merrily
opting to climb the trees surrounding the theater (which is nestled
in the woods downhill from the Griffith Park Observatory) to get
their superstar serenades for free. "Tree people" is a phrase I
haven't heard in about 25 years. Siiiiiiiighhhhhhh. I was all of
twelve when this album was recorded, barely allowed to listen to
rock 'n' roll music on my piece-of-shit AM-only radio that cut out
at inopportune moments (if my galled friends wonder why I suddenly
stop singing along to songs then pick back up after a few seconds,
it's because I learned them off a radio that cut out a lot). When
I was finally allowed to listen to Boss Radio KHJ toward the end
of 1971, Neil Diamond had released his "Moods" album, as fine and
mellow a way to be introduced to his music as any (although the
less said about "Porcupine Pie," the better).
I can tell you that, as I was floating in our
pool a mere 12 miles away from the Greek on that hot August night,
Neil et al. were kicking off the festivities with a heavily orchestrated
prologue right into the joyful opening licks of "Crunchy Granola
Suite." Listening to it now, I can say it's not deep, but it's surely
crunchy, and it's hard not to be thrilled by the boy's baritone--it
is a thing of beauty. Liner notes and critics blurbs make much of
Neil Diamond's ability to connect intimately with his audiences.
That ability is no big secret. It's the warm, resonating voice.
When he sings, you do feel its conviction in your solar plexus,
in the soles of your feet. No wonder women went bonkers over him
in the '70s (not me--I was crushed out on Elton John back then,
little knowing that he didn't much fancy girls). Dave Barry makes
much of the silly lyrics to Diamond's songs and can't seem to fathom
why women love him so much. It's the voice, Dave! The voice! It
ain't the dessert recipes!
The Neil Diamond of 1972 does a convincing job
of playing a down home, "aw shucks" kinda feller, even though he's
actually a nice Jewish boy from New York (brace yourselves, fans:
he attended NYU as a pre-med student . . . ON A FENCING SCHOLARSHIP!?!?!).
Okay, so he says to the audience, "Ya want me to play "Walk on Wootah?"
He still brings a certain, self-effacing charm that served both
John Denver and Barry Manilow well in concert (perhaps it's because
the '70s were a sweeter, relaxed, and far less raunchy era). Think
of him as Kinky Friedman lite. He capably straddles pop, C&W;, and
folk, and he can throw down a little gospel without sounding whitebread.
Again, Dave, it's the voice, okay? Can't you at least cut Neil some
slack for writing "I'm a Believer"?
Most of the hits that are worth a good goddamn
are on this album: "Solitary Man," "Cherry Cherry," "Sweet Caroline"
"Girl You'll Be A Woman Soon," "Kentucky Woman" "Play Me," (with
the immortal lyric "song she sang to me, song she brang to me")
"Song Sung Blue," and "I Am . . . I Said" (in which our white jumpsuited
hero can't even get a response from his furniture). Of special note:
"Walk on Water," "Kentucky Woman," and "Stones" are bonus tracks
from the concert that weren't included on the original two-album
set back in the day when men were long-haired men and vinyl ruled.
The arrangements are thrilling and fun and not
too far removed from their original versions. "Girl You'll Be A
Woman Soon" is handled differently--spare and acoustic, but it's
gentle and just right for a sticky summer evening. A piece like
"Play Me" seamlessly melds honky tonk elements with the sweet (but
never treacly) string lines, and it still sends me straight back
to our backyard pool where I first heard it 30 years ago. Toward
the end of the evening, on "Holly Holy" and "Cracklin' Rosie," his
voice is getting that certain "Love on the Rocks" raggedness. Still,
he can be forgiven because he delivers "Brother Love's Travelling
Salvation Show" for a finale, and that tent revival lends itself
to the distressed throat. At least it's ten years before he'll pen
"Turn on Your Heartlight."
"Walk on Wootah," "Play Me," and "Stones" are
my particular faves, and it all sounds summer outdoor ambient, like
Neil's been playing it to me that particular evening, at poolside,
as I float out of my childhood into the murkier waters of adolescence.
The songs put me in mind of gentler times, and "Stones" in particular
is like the last-ever lullaby.
Here's the link to the Original Neil Diamond Home
Page ("Serving the Neil Diamond Community Since 1995!"): www.neildiamondhomepage.com
What's Going On - Reissue
Motown/Tamla Records (MCA)
(Warning: this review begins with a movie
spoiler. Don't read any further if you haven't seen Spike Lee's
At the climax of one
of my fave Spike Lee films, "Jungle Fever," Ossie Davis, as the
Reverend Purify, shoots dead his crack-addicted son Gator (played
by Samuel L. Jackson in a performance that left me weeping inconsolably
in my theater seat for 15 minutes after the lights came up). The
murder takes place in the Purify home, just as Marvin Gaye's murder
at the hands of his minister father took place in the elder Gaye's
Los Angeles home in 1984. I have worked on the marketing of five
of Spike Lee's films, and I do not doubt for a moment that Spike
Lee deliberately drew those parallels between the Purify family
and the Gaye tragedy.
In "Jungle Fever," "Crooklyn," and "Do the Right
Thing," soundtrack and dialogue references crop up throughout concerning
the urgent, restless music of the early '70s, when soul shifted
from the upbeat dance groove of early Motown to a more socially
conscious vibe. This shift gave rise to the likes of Curtis Mayfield
(whose "Freddy's Dead" should have won the Oscar for best song in
1972) and Isaac Hayes (at least he got the Oscar for "The Theme
From Shaft" in 1971) and matured the talents of The Supremes (who
went from "Baby Love" to "Love Child"), The Temptations (who went
from "My Girl" to "Papa Was a Rolling Stone") and the Four Tops
(from "Reach Out I'll Be There" to "Keeper of the Castle"). Two
such artists most profoundly transformed by their times were Stevie
Wonder (whose "Lemme hear you say yeah!!!" turned decidedly darker
and mission-oriented after he survived a near-fatal car crash) and
Prior to his landmark album "What's Going On,"
Gaye's major hits were mostly upbeat duets with such Motown songbirds
as Mary Wells, Miss Ross, Tammi Terrell, and Kim Weston (who dropped
out of sight until recently, resurfacing to sing for Shrub's inaugural
festivities). Terrell's tragic illness and early death from a brain
tumor (she collapsed in Gaye's arms on stage during a concert performance),
along with myriad pressures in the form of a difficult marriage
to Berry Gordy's sister Anna and harassment from the IRS, plunged
Gaye into a profound, two-year depression. In 1970, Gaye shifted
gears, writing and producing "What's Going On?", which was released
in spring of 1971. Of this album, Gaye said, "Something happened
with me during that period. I felt the strong urge to write music
and to write lyrics that would touch the souls of men. And in that
way I thought I could help."
Smoky Robinson (who nowadays deejays for the fun
of it on Mega 92.3 FM here in L.A.) wrote the intro to the 2001
reissue, and he declares, " . . . "What's Going On" is my favorite
album of all time." He also informs us that Berry Gordy, Jr. didn't
want Marvin Gaye to make this album, that Gordy didn't want a protest
record coming from Motown's hottest sex symbol (and certainly Gaye
would have his greatest hits the down the road with "Let's Get It
On" and "Sexual Healing"). Thankfully, Gaye listened to the message
he felt was coming from God and channeled it into this extraordinary
I cannot emphasize how important this album was
in its day, how it managed through such singles as "What's Going
On," "Mercy Mercy Me (The Ecology)" and "Inner City Blues" to reach
out across mainstream radio stations and tug at the conscience of
middle class white kids, alerting them to the intolerable conditions
of poverty in inner city America, drug addiction, pollution, and
the slaughterhouse that had become Southeast Asia. It is grieving
to see how little has changed and how much worse it has gotten in
America since Marvin Gaye fired this stunning warning shot across
the nation's bow. What would Gaye have made of the Rodney King beating
or the brutal murder of Amadou Diallo at the hands of the NYPD?
The oil companies moving into the White House to dip their greedy,
grubby hands into our supposedly protected wilderness regions? The
terrifying diseases eating into our food supply? The Rampart scandal
and L.A.'s stubborn failure to adopt the recommendations of the
Christopher Commission? The lynchings of James Byrd and Matthew
Shepherd? The nauseatingly routine school shootings? The music of
"What's Going On" is as vital and damning today with the Republican
Shrub in the White House as it was when the Republican Nixon was
in charge. La plus �a change...
There are songs intimating that reconciliation
between the races is still possible ("God Is Love," "Right On,"
"Wholly Holy"), and the indictment that is this collection is not
without optimism. I wonder if Marvin would speak of redemption and
forgiveness today. Part of me believes he would. "What's Going On?"
gives us the artistic measure of a man whose tormented soul, however
briefly, saw the truth with astonishing clarity and glimpsed the
equally astonishing possibilities. Here's a glimpse of hope that
the message is still getting out and perhaps getting through: the
album has continued to sell solidly since its release in 1971. Its
sales were unprecedented for the singles-centric Motown. The superb
reissue CD comes with bonus tracks aplenty from both the original
recording sessions and alternate Detroit mix as well as Gaye's live
performance of these pieces at the Kennedy Center and the original
single versions of "What's Going On" and "God Is Love."
The first taste I ever had of Marvin Gaye was
the sinewy funk of his "black bottoms," the piano, bass, conga and
bongo drums that usher in "Inner City Blues." The moment I heard
it, I knew I was listening to some serious distress signals from
a world so close and so faraway from my cozy little neighborhood
in the Valley. I leave you with these dire syncopations from "Inner
City Blues," and you tell me if anything has changed since 1971.
Crime is / increasing
Trigger happy / policing
Panic / is spreading
God knows where / we're heading
THE BEST OF THE SEVENTIES
The Millennium Collection
20th Century Masters
Hip-O Records (MCA)
Clearly Hip-O is intended
to be MCA's oldies-rich archives' answer to Rhino Records, and I
do give them high marks for their adorable web site (www.hip-o.com).
However, if the pompous "Millennium Collection" title isn't enough
to put you off your lunch, the fatuous and banal liner notes will
make you long for Rhino's wry and informative approach to disc documentation.
Now, I have no quarrels with the appropriateness or quality of the
selections on this CD, which includes Marvin Gaye's "What's Going
On" (see my review of the album CD reissue on this page), Elton
John's "Daniel," Cat Stevens' "Wild World" (see my review XXXX),
Eric Clapton's "I Shot the Sheriff," Gladys Knight and the Pips'
"Midnight Train to Georgia," The Jackson Five's "ABC," Edwin Starr's
"War," Don McLean's full-length "American Pie," Three Dog Night's
"Joy to the World," Peter Frampton's "Show Me the Way," Rod Stewart's
"Maggie May," and Lynyrd Skynyrd's "Sweet Home Alabama." All of
these were top hits and certainly represent some of the musical
styles that characterized the mixed bag of '70s music. What bothers
me is that one can scarcely point to these tunes and declare that
they, above all others, represent the decade or even a modest slice
of the decade for a so-called MILLENNIUM COLLECTION. First, there
are no songs from 1972, 1975, 1977, 1978, or 1979 (although I will
argue with the years they assign to some of these tunes; for example,
I consider "American Pie" more a song of 1972 than 1971). Just selecting
one song from each year... does that mean we could have done without
Steely Dan's "Do It Again" or Jefferson Starship's "Miracles" or
the Bee Gees' "Stayin' Alive" or Gerry Rafferty's "Baker Street"
or Dire Straights' "Sultans of Swing"? This collection offers two
early '70s soul protest songs (out of four soul songs total), four
British rockers (five, if you allow for pop folkie Cat Stevens,
who did cover a couple of rock tunes in his day), five songs released
in 1971, and four songs released in 1974. The Millennium Collection
contains no disco, no novelty tunes (there were far more in the
'70s than you'd think), no funk, no early new wave, no punk, no
Dutch rock, ad infinitum.
As for the vapid liner notes by one Sal Nunziato,
how the hell can "American Pie" be the anthem of the '70s when the
song itself is about the music of the '50s and '60s? Deliver me!
Buy this collection if it is discounted, because the tracks are
all great songs, but don't pay full CD price for it. Spend your
hard-earned money on Rhino's HAVE A NICE DAY and SUPER SOUL HIST
OF THE 70'S anthologies instead You'll thank me for it.
Just the other night,
my father was watching that old James Bond farce "Casino Royale"
(the one in which David Niven, Peter Sellars, AND Woody Allen all
play James Bond). The most memorable thing about that comedic misfire
is its theme song, the BurtBachrach/Hal David standard "The Look
of Love" as sung by the lady Cliff Richard dubbed "the white negress,"
Dusty Springfield. Herb Alpert also covered this song in the mid-sixties
heyday he shared with Dusty, and I have to say that, fine a trumpeter
as Herb Alpert is (hey, my daddy used to fix his horn!), I've always
found Dusty's voice to be the more fluid and nuanced interpreter
of that song. Her softness and vulnerability are so credible and
canny that, even given the broken, world-weary huskiness of her
voice, she still comes across as a very young woman left breathless
on the threshold of her first serious romance.
Born a nice, Irish Catholic girl named Mary Isobel
Catherine Bernadette O'Brien in London on April 16, 1939, Dusty
Springfield grew up listening to a wide range of music, from classical
composers to jazz to pop. As a teenager, she performed folk and
Latin-American songs at a London club. She began her recording career
as part of the Lana Sisters Trio. In 1960, she joined her old brother
Dion (who took the stage name Tom Springfield, given that Dion was
already taken by Runaround Sue's swain) and Tim Field to form the
folk trio The Springfields. The Springfields scored a hit in the
U.S. with "Silver Threads and Golden Needles" (a song probably more
famous as a Linda Ronstadt cover). Striking out on her own in 1963,
Dusty made the bigtime with "I Only Want to Be With You." By 1968,
she was the number one pop singer in Britain and a major recording
star internationally. There were lulls in the career, punctuated
by a huge hit in 1987 with the Pet Boys on "What Have I Done to
The "Love Songs" collection makes for great dinner
date music. Great music to cook to, great music to serve up appetizers
to, great music to split a bottle of red wine to, leaving room for
dessert and necking afterwards. It doesn't include a few of her
monster hits, the Spectoresque "I Only Want to Be With You," "You
Don't Have to Say You Love Me" (given almost hourly rotation on
K-EARTH here in L.A.), and "Wishin' and Hopin'," but it's packed
with plenty of other goodies that showcase her remarkable stylistic
range. There was not a style of music (R&B;, A&M-style; pop, folk,
country, soul, or ballad), or songwriter (be it Randy Newman, Carol
King, Elvis Costello, or Johann Sebastian Bach) she could not persuade
us she understood utterly to her core.
After "The Look of Love," we are treated to a
cover of "Am I the Same Girl" (better known here in the Colonies
as the get-down-get-funky instrumental "Soulful Strut" and covered
successfully in 1992 by Swing Out Sister). I'm not pleased with
the mix: you can't hear her over the backup singers, probably because
she was singing at the top of her range on the chorus and the piece
really calls for belting rather than soft pedaling. Backed up by
her brother Tom "Morning, Please Don't Come," Miss Dusty shows off
her folkie roots, lamenting how she and her lover will part once
the sun rises. It has all the fragile sweetness circa the day when
"Brother Sun/Sister Moon," "Romeo and Juliet," and "Friends" played
to heavy petters at the drive-in.
"The Richest Girl Alive" is a "lost track" (which
means it was not issued in the U.S.). It would have been a huge
hit for the likes of Mary Wells, but Dusty's take-all Motown girl
group sass-makes you forget the blonde beehive hairdos. You understand
why this woman was the queen of blue-eyed soul. (IMHO, Dusty is
actually a better singer than Mary Wells. When Wells' voice cracks
in "My Guy," she careens momentarily off pitch. Dusty's pitch when
her purr cracks is immaculate.) Another lost track, "Bring Him Back"
also ripples with soul circa the early '70s. "Mr. Dream Merchant"
is a ballad tapping the same "white negress" flavor.
"Summer Love" is album filler to me-not because
of the singing but because it's not a remarkable song. The same
goes for the over-produced "Something for Nothing," which sounds
like something that was rejected from the "Saturday Night Fever"
soundtrack. "O-o-h Child" is a less successful soul cover of the
Five Stairsteps' one hit wonder, largely because it is unfinished.
Dusty sings "ba ba ba ba ba" � la the Partridge Family where the
backup singers would fill in almost as if she plans to color in
the later. I wish she had finished it-she certainly had the right
voice to cover the song. "The Colour of Your Eyes" is the flip side
of "The Look of Love"-that girl from the latter song now gently
consigning the dying or already dead affair to memory without much
in the way of nostalgia. "Sweet Lover No More" flexes her nimble
phrasing and pays homage to her fave influences, Ella Fitzgerald
and Peggy Lee. This is the collection's up-tempo sizzler, Exhibit
A that Dusty Springfield was as timelessly hip as her influences.
We don't get "Wishin' and Hopin'," be we do get
the cautionary "Girls Can't Do What the Guys Do." Our chanteuse
warns us gals that if we do the things boys do (playing cards, hanging
out, whatever), we'll tarnish our reputations as ladies. Throughout
her career, Dusty Springfield was branded "difficult" by the producers
and musicians who worked with her. On the "Woman of Repute" website
http://www.isd.net/mbayly/intro.htm), there's a snazzy shot of La
Dusty in her British bird getup and towering inferno hairdo playing
the drums. She was a perfectionist-urging her musicians to try for
unheard of ambiance from their instruments, exploring the space
of the ladies' room to get the right acoustics. Male pop stars can
trash their hotel suites, cat around on their wives and children,
and behave appallingly on stage and backstage, and somehow that
merely enhances their rock god mystique. Dusty Springfield wanted
a different sound from the Fender guitar, and that made her "difficult."
What is tolerated as genius for "the Guys" somehow translates into
poor social skills for "the Girls."
As for the tremendous "Son of a Preacher Man"
it's hard not to believe that Dusty didn't grow up on the Delta
just down the road from Bobbi Gentry. "Son of a Preacher Man" is
the fruit of Dusty's actual recording sessions in Memphis, which
produced arguably her greatest album, "Dusty in Memphis." When she
sings "he'd come and tell me everything is alright / he'd kiss and
tell me everything is all right / can we get away again tonight?"
I'll be damned if I can't feel that Billy Ray's lips on my throat.
This is one of the sexiest numbers ever recorded, as much for what
she doesn't tell us happened on those walks as for what she does.
"Meditation" scooby-doos along like in full Sinatra
mode with frissons from k.d. lang's "Miss Chaterlaine." There's
a danceable, horn-charted cover of "Spooky," and what better female
voice to sing about "the cool of the evening when everything is
gettin' kinda groovy"? Wiser in the ways of love than Dennis Yost
and the Classics IV, Dusty hopes "you're not what you seem" instead
of proposing on Halloween. "Love Songs" concludes with a weird hybrid:
"Goodbye" is the bass aria from Bach's "St. Matthew's Passion" revamped
into a Broadway-style ballad. Okay. Whatever.
I am so seriously pissed off that we lost Dusty
to breast cancer in 1999, a mere twelve days before she was inducted
into the Rock 'n' Roll Hall of Fame and on the very day she was
to receive one of her country's highest honors from the Queen herself.
It was her second bout, and it was caught late stage in 1997_too
late for even aggressive treatment to save her life. She was just
shy of 60, with enough vocal vitality and talent to keep going,
much as her contemporary Petula Clark is still doing today. She
would still be singing for us if she had had early detection. I
cannot emphasize enough from personal experience how singularly
important this is.
Here are some other Dusty facts:
1. Her trademark panda-eyed mascara she attributed
to the fact that she was too near-sighted without her glasses to
see how she was applying her makeup.
2. She was awarded the Order of the British Empire
medal (the OBE) just days before her death, receiving it during
a special presentation at the hospital. She loved the medal, but
thought the ribbon was flimsy.
3. She used her influence to introduce the Motown
Sound to the British audience, inviting a number of Motown artists
(including the Temptations and the Supremes) to appear on the BBC's
influential pre-MTV music show "Ready, Steady, Go!"
4. Our heroine refused to perform to racially segregated
audiences in South Africa in 1964, which resulted in her arrest
and unofficial "deportation" from that country.
5. Her duet partners included Jimi Hendrix. Spencer
Davis, Richard Carpenter, Daryl Hall, the Pet Shop Boys, and Liberace.
6. Dusty Day is celebrated as an annual event in
her home-town of Henley-on-Thames on her birthday, April 16th.
7. Her comment to London's Evening Standard in
1970, "I know that I'm perfectly capable of being swayed by a girl
as by a boy," marked her as the first established artist in pop
music to openly identify herself as bisexual.
8. A Dusty Springfield biography flick for VH1,
"You Don't Have to Say You Love Me," is in the works from Madonna
and Guy Ritchie's production company.