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(cont. By Jack Veasey) These days,
though, she believes "R&B comes naturally to me because I grew up
surrounded by it in Philly." Mohawk feels pop music has become
enough of a melting pot that distinctions between "black" and
"white" music no longer really exist.
"I'd say there's music that's definitely black music and
music that's definitely white music," she said, "but there are a
lot of white artists who play black music and black artists who
play white music — so when you get to individual human beings,
you can't generalize. If there was any 'rule,' everyone I know
would be, an exception!"
She credits her affinity with "the Philadelphia sound" as a
major force behind the decision to move back East, and flowing
with that empathy has already paid off. Though the contract for
release of her already-produced record is still being
negotiated, and though her own area tour is just beginning,
McFadden and Whitehead have just recorded one of her ballads,
"Not With Me," for an album they're currently making with
Capitol Records. And some of her tunes are scheduled to be
recorded in the near future by the Four Tops.
Cover versions of her tunes by major artists are no small
plum for Mohawk, as she's generally been thought of as primarily
a singer — despite the fact that she penned all but one song on
her four released albums, and has written over 100 songs since
the release of her last record in 1977. Though her recordings on
such major labels as Reprise, Asylum and Verve consistently
garnered rave reviews in publications like Rolling Stone and
Downbeat, attention has tended to focus more on her impressive,
jazz-influenced vocal gymnastics than on her refreshingly
intelligent lyrics and strikingly memorable tunes.
This is understandable in that her voice, a soprano of
surprising purity and power, spans an almost unprecedented range
of four octaves, placing her in a very small category, of pop
singers with such famous "vocal oddities" as Yma Sumac and Flora
Purim. ...
On more recent recordings, her funkier flights into soulful
scat singing and gospel-flavored wails and growls have reaped
comparisons not to other vocalists so much as to horn players
like Coltrane and Charlie Parker. Perhaps unfortunately for
Mohawk, her influence on pop music, beyond the fierce loyalty of
her own cult following, has often been felt through the impact
of her work, both as a singer and writer, on other artists —
particularly Laura Nyro and Joni Mitchell.
Some critics have suggested that Nyro and Mitchell were
"imitated" on Mohawk's later recordings when in reality the two
pop superstars were, in effect, proteges of Mohawk's during the
beginning of her professional career in the late sixties. After
swapping songs with Mohawk, and following her early gigs, both
Nyro and Mitchell exhibited startling and sudden growth as both
writers and singers. Though Nyro and Mitchell both advanced
further and faster on the path to stardom than Mohawk, their
success is not begrudged.
On the contrary, says Mohawk, "the situation with Joni
Mitchell was totally positive. We were neighbors in Rural
Canyon, and she'd come over and we'd play tunes for each other,
and when I suggested she stretch out more vocally and use her
voice as an instrument, she immediately responded and found her
own way of doing that. ..."
... Mohawk's impact on the music of the late Sixties and
early Seventies has not gone totally unrecognized: a chapter on
her will be included in an upcoming book currently being readied
on the development of pop music in the Sixties.
Mohawk's early career was marked not only by great promise
but by great tumultuousness: two unsuccessful marriages, four
label changes — one involving a nasty lawsuit — and one scary
bout with drugs conspired to limit her success. Though she still
maintains astoundingly youthful good looks — it's very hard to
believe that she's entered the latter half of her 30s, as she
still looks very much as she did when, at 19, she joined the
Mothers Of Invention — her approach to life and her work have
matured and sobered considerably, though her
clowning-kid-on-the-corner sense of humor remains undiminished.
She attributes the storminess of her past to the fact that "I
was a child of the Sixties... and something we did in the
Sixties, though I'm not sure what, extended our adolescence far
beyond the usual time. So I've had a real long adolescence ...
and apparently it's had a physical effect, because everyone asks
me how I've stayed young all these years."
Her idealism is also intact; as she puts it, "I'm more
idealistic than ever, but now it's idealism with a realistic
foundation, which seems to work better. ..." She credits her own
turn-around largely to a form of Japanese Buddhism which she's
been practicing faithfully for the last three and a half years:
"It's given me a more wide-angle vision. I see the whole world
now, instead of just seeing with the tunnel vision of youth. And
once you see that, you have to start taking responsibility for
what role you play in shaping that world and sculpting your own
future ... you can't put the blame on Mame anymore!"
She laughed her easy laugh again, but then hastened to
seriously add that one very primary thing hasn't changed in the
least — the sincerity that's always marked her statements as a
singer and a writer: "My singing and my writing are both like
anything else that's alive; they grow, and they evolve ... but
in the moment when I'm doing it, I can't be
self-conscious; it's got to come straight from my guts, from
that moment and that place where it's most real to me, 'cause
that's just where it can be real for other people. No matter
what. I'll still be singing from the edge where everybody
livers.”
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