First among divas
Julie Burchill pays tribute to Aretha, Queen of show offs
On the announcement of Aretha Franklin’s passing on Thursday, the mourning was unanimously reverent to a degree I’ve rarely experienced for any public person. Aretha sang about respect, and she certainly got it.
But when we deify a person, we do them the disfavour of not really remembering them as they were; we run the risk of smothering them with an ill-fitting halo. Yes, Franklin was a Christian, a Democrat and a great singer. But she was also a diva. First among divas, even; a woman who both knew her own prodigious talent and refused to play nice.
No better example of that came in 1998, when she took part in the concert Divas Live, alongside Celine Dion, Mariah Carey, Gloria Estefan, Shania Twain and Carole King. In his tribute to her, this paper’s music critic Neil McCormick remembered being at the gig and seeing her determinedly steal the limelight from her fellow leading ladies: “As the show drew to a close, they gathered together to sing Natural Woman, each taking a verse. But with wicked one-upwomanship, Franklin shadowed their vocals. When Twain delivered lines low and sultry, Franklin’s voice delved down deeper and bluesier. When Dion hit those soaring high notes, Franklin headed for the stars… a quintet of the most famous women in popular music were reduced to glorified backing singers, swaying behind her, fixed grins on their faces. The concert was billed as Divas Live but in the end there was only one diva left basking in deserved adulation.”
Franklin never dreamed of being humble. In 2008, after Beyoncé made the mistake of introducing Tina Turner as “The Queen” at the Grammy Awards, the true Queen of Soul was not amused. “I am not sure of whose toes I may have stepped on or whose ego I may have bruised between the Grammy writer and Beyoncé,” she fired back in a statement. “However, I dismissed it as a cheap shot for controversy.”
And she never gave credit where she didn’t think it was due. In a 2014 video interview with the Wall Street Journal which is now doing the rounds again, when asked what came to mind when she heard the name Taylor Swift, she replied drily and damningly, “OK… great gowns, beautiful gowns.” But when one considers Franklin’s sad life – the death of her mother when she was only 10, two children by the age of 14, a struggle with alcoholism, persistent ill-health – it’s hardly surprising that she would be even more proud and protective of her achievements than someone who found success without having to struggle so.
Sometimes, though, people are divas just because being bad gives them a rush. Dusty Springfield was a convent schoolgirl raised in a music-loving family who encouraged her talent, and became part of the UK’s top-selling group The Springfields by the age of 21. She went on to find massive success and respect in every area of music she turned her hand to; an enthusiastic lesbian and a singular talent, she was safe from the routine liberties taken by powerful men in the music business. She simply enjoyed causing a commotion, raising a ruckus and throwing things around – including food, crockery and a ginger wig that she spitefully called “Cilla”.
But her recklessness was beyond a joke when it extended to her driving habits. In 1964 she ran her car into an elderly lady named Ida Metzger who was innocently crossing the road carrying a shopping bag full of baked beans. Mrs Metzger took out a civil action; when the case came to court, it was revealed that Springfield had been driving at night wearing dark glasses: “An extraordinary thing to do,” the judge observed. A diva thing to do, made even worse by Springfield’s reaction to the judge’s judgment: “Nobody seems interested in the damage the old lady’s baked beans have done to my car!”
Diana Ross has been a hybrid of the two – Franklin’s struggle and Springfield’s high-handedness. Someone who knew her as a girl claimed: “When she was poor, living in the housing projects, she was just as snotty as she is now”; some divas are made, but some are born. When her Motown boss Berry Gordy became her lover, he demanded that everyone – including the other Supremes – call her Miss Ross, and it was all tiaras and tantrums from then on.
Bandmate Cindy Birdsong recalled that she had a signature move at the end of a performance – throwing her arms out in a way which invariably blocked the other girls faces. It’s better for everyone if divas go solo right from the start – imagine the havoc wrought had Barbra Streisand or Grace Jones been forced to share their spotlight with two similarly attired singing sidekicks.
Modern divas take care to dilute their diva-ness with gestures towards being friends of the oppressed, not least the LGBT community – Madonna has always been a big chum, as has Carey. Unlike Franklin and Springfield, who must have felt extraordinarily isolated, these broads lived through bootstrap-feminism and have put a pop-political spin on their highly understandable desire to have it their own way at all times.
And why not? I may be saying this because I’m a show-off, but to me there are few things more attractive than someone who is good at something doing it in absolute full knowledge of how good they are at it and revelling in the fact.
Women have been taught since time immemorial that showing off is a bad thing – except, of course, when their job is to provide men with sexual thrills. But to show off about one’s talent is still something which the sexes are judged very differently for doing – imagine an actress as arrogant, even when old and ugly, as Jack Nicholson! Just as a man who knows what he wants and goes after it is a boss but a woman who does so is a bitch, male singers can behave in an outrageously demanding manner and still be considered national treasures.
Of course, divas aren’t always singers. They can be Mrs Thatcher, walking into an EU meeting after France and Germany had been giving us a particularly hard time and announcing: “Now, gentlemen – I’ve only got time to lose my temper and get my way!” They can be Helen Mirren marching offstage while playing the Queen in a West End theatre and walking out through the stage door to yell at a drumming band, telling them: “Shut the f--- up – people have paid a lot of money to see this show and you’re f------ ruining it!” . But a diva without the ability of a Thatcher or a Mirren will end up looking foolish. Merely a discontented drama queen.
But if you have the talent to back it up, there are worse things than aspiring to diva-hood. Taylor Swift can have cosy sleepovers with her “squad” and bake cupcakes for fans all she wants, but she should keep in mind that, as the old saw has it, “Well-behaved women rarely make history” – or great pop records.
Imagine the havoc if Barbra Streisand or Grace Jones had to share their spotlight