Holiday on Ice: Billie's Inspired Sadness and its Ramefications

I've been listening to "Lady Day" (above) a lot lately. Not really listening, though; one could say I've been experiencing Billie Holiday. She does sadness better than any other artist I've ever come across, and yet, it's the least painful thing to listen to her pour her heart out. I relish it.

I was once talking to a musician co-worker of mine, and while his music tastes are slightly more acoustic and country than I appreciate, the one artist we could hands-down agree on was Billie Holiday; "She's just so real." he remarked.

And with that, I started to understand her mass appeal (not to mention her genius); she has a fabulous, sultry, thick voice that vowels stick to and amplify; beyond the aesthetic experience, she articulates feelings that we've all undoubtedly had--that is, if we've ever forayed into any sort of romance, experienced any sort of rejection, or any heartbreak. And that's it; she articulates her sadness so well that it is impossible to destroy her art with misinterpretation (barring, of course, "Strange Fruit," a poem sung by Billie about Lynching; she reportedly lamented the constant misreading of the song when people would ask her to sing "that sexy song about swinging"--the swinging referring to a lynched black man). Her misery is so pure.

But an appreciation of this sort of frank honesty about feelings requires a question: what's so remarkable about someone sharing their feelings?

She's sharing them. That's what. This is apparently more remarkable than one would think; conversing with one of my friends about a budding romance of hers, she kept trying to explain her feelings without using the word "like" or any other verb of an implied amicable nature. She went back and forth, debating as to whether pursuing the relationship was worth it at all, speculating his wants just a hookup? A relationship? Does it have to be serious? and I stopped her. "Do you like him?" She started at me blankly as if I'd wounded her somehow. She replied point blank "Yes." without hesitation and seemed surprised that an affirmation of a feeling would slip from her mouth. "Oh my god," she said, "I like him."

The feeling was that easy, but articulating it was a bit of a trek, lasting two hours of back and forth conversation. Billie deals in emotions that are inexplicable to her, but she deals so well:

Don't want my mammy
I don't need a friend.
My heart is broken, it won't ever mend
I ain't much caring just where I will end
I must have that man

I'm like an over that's crying for heat
He treats me awful each time that we meet
It's just so awful how that boy can cheat,
But I must have that man

(I Must Have That Man--Billie Holiday)

It's heartbreaking ecstasy.