The 500 - #94 - 40 Greatest Hits - Hank Williams

I was inspired by a podcast called The 500 hosted by New York-based comedian Josh Adam Meyers. His goal, and mine, is to explore Rolling Stone Magazine's 2012 edition of The 500 Greatest Albums of All Time.

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Album: #94

Album Title: 40 Greatest Hits

Artist: Hank Williams

Genre: Country, Honky-Tonk, Blues

Recorded: 1947-1952

Released: March, 1978

My age at release: 12

How familiar was I with it before this week: Several songs

Is it on the 2020 list? Yes, at #132 - dropping 38 spots

Song I am putting on my Spotify Playlist: I Saw The Light

When I was in my twenties, Hank Williams was a punchline. Actually, it was his son, Hank Williams Jr., who earned that distinction. The senior Williams was merely collateral damage, swept up in the barrage of juvenile jokes my friend Paul Dawson and I traded whenever we were trying to crack each other up.

Hank Williams (1950)

In 1989, There's a Tear in My Beer was re-recorded by Hank Williams Jr., built around a vocal his father had recorded nearly 40 years earlier. It was, in effect, a duet across generations. Hank Williams Sr. had died in 1953 at the age of 29, leaving behind a three-year-old son and a catalogue that would help define country music for the next 50 years. In hindsight, the idea behind the song is quite moving: A grown man sharing a record with the father he never had the chance to know. At the time, however, that sentiment was lost on us. We were young, cynical, and eager to find the joke in everything, and Hank Jr. had already given us plenty of reasons to target him.

Hank Jr. re-recorded many of this father's songs.

When There's a Tear in My Beer popped up on our radios or on television, we would mock the simplistic lyrics. We'd make up increasingly ridiculous and vulgar alternative versions because we figured the songs were old-fashioned and unsophisticated. To us, Hank Williams Jr. represented a kind of country music that seemed completely disconnected from our lives. To a bunch of suburban Canadian kids trying to figure out our own political identities, he seemed to embody every Southern stereotype we disliked. We weren't particularly left-wing or right-wing at that point. We were still sorting out all that. What we did know was that we were decidedly anti-racist and uncomfortable with anything that looked like a celebration of Confederate nostalgia and slavery. Fairly or unfairly, we transferred the resentment we had to the son onto the father and never really gave the music a chance.

In 1988, Hank Jr. released a song called If The South Would've Won,
in which he imagines the South wining the Civil War. Critics
have made the logical connection that it is a tacit endorsement of slavery.

As you may have realized during this journey through The 500 Greatest Albums of All Time, I'm open to changing my mind, even if I'm a little reluctant at first. Sure enough, about a decade after Paul and I were trading puerile jokes and mangling Hank Williams’ lyrics for our own amusement, I found myself becoming a fan...of the Senior, not the Junior. The credit for that transformation belonged largely to a new friend, a legendary London musician and vocalist named "The Reverend" Freddie Johnston.

London musician, "Reverend" Freddie Johnston.

Like many people involved in London's music scene, I knew of Freddie long before I actually met him. He was hard to miss, looking more like a road-tested bluesman from Texas, or a hippie biker from California, than a young man raised in Ontario’s Southwest.

His large frame and trademark bandana, or a wide-brimmed hat, made him easy to spot from blocks away. His wardrobe was a glorious mix of styles that became uniquely him. His turquoise rings, boldly patterned shirts and jangly bracelets captured one’s attention whether he was walking down the street or performing on a tavern stage. His large arms were canvases of colourful tattoos that hinted at a lifetime of music, friendship and adventure.

Reverend Freddie on stage at The Brunswick Hotel - drummer
(and former guest blogger) Steve Crew on the kit behind him.

Freddie had played in local bands for years, including Thundershack and Green Apple Splash, two band names that leaned delightfully into his love of "potty humour". However, I got to know him well in the late ‘90s when he formed a four- piece band dubbed Reverend Freddie and The Distillers. What stood out wasn't the musician or local legend. It was the person. He was one of the warmest, funniest, most genuinely kind people I've ever met. He welcomed everyone, loved a good conversation, and smelled fantastic. I have no idea what cologne he splashed on, but the man was consistently the best-smelling musician in the London region.

The Distillers were (l-r) Jeff Bialkowski, Freddie, Crew,
 and Oscar "Porchee" Macedo.

Reverend Freddie and the Distillers mixed multiple genres in their sets. From Hard and Southern rock, to blues, and honky-tonk country, they entertained in a way that felt completely natural. For several years, they became part of my weekly routine. I was in a Monday night hockey league, with games ending between 11:00 and 12:30.  After a quick shower, I'd head over to the Brunswick Hotel to catch a set, have a couple of beers and unwind before heading home.

The Distillers at The Brunswick Hotel.

Those Monday nights also became my introduction to new music and, in particular, the Hank Williams songs I had spent years dismissing. Freddie and the Distillers often performed Williams’ classics, including Jambalaya (On The Bayou), Hey Good Lookin', Move It On Over, and Cold, Cold Heart.  What surprised me was how much I enjoyed them, and I began re-evaluating my view of their kind of music.

I eventually came to appreciate Hank Williams’ simplicity. What I had once mocked was actually his greatest strength. His songs don't hide behind complicated language or clever wordplay. He said what he meant, directly and honestly. Songs like Cold, Cold Heart and I'm So Lonesome I Could Cry endure because they capture emotions that most of us have experienced. The older I get, the more I realize that writing something simple can be just as challenging as writing something complicated. I can choose a clever word or phrase to make my writing more impressive; but will they resonate with succeeding generations.

Outside of music, Freddie and I shared another interest: professional wrestling. For about a decade, WrestleMania meant gathering at the home of Freddie's close friend -- bass player Oscar Macedo. Along with Oscar's friend Claudio Sossi (another former guest blogger) we'd spend the evening laughing, watching matches, sharing stories, drinking beers and eating pizza.

Oscar, Freddie and Claudio meeting Olympic gold medalist
and Pro-Wrestling legend Kurt Angle at an event in Windsor.

As I aged, my bar visits diminished. Late nights were harder and life just got busier. I saw Freddie, and all my other music acquaintances and friends far less frequently. The Brunswick Hotel was demolished in 2008 and the music scene in London continued to shrink, a victim of changing economics and a new generation who were less interested in the music of my generation, let alone honky-tonk country from 1950.

Freddie performing at The Brunswick "The Wick" Hotel.

The last time I saw Freddie was on Saturday, September 25, 2021. He was playing at a charity event that my friend Jeff Lewis was hosting and I helped him unload some music gear.. He was gracious and funny, as always, and he still smelled great. I remember the date well because I needed to leave before he hit the stage in order to visit  my friend Art who was losing his battle with cancer. It was, painfully, the same day we had to put our lovely, but old and diabetic, cat, Manny, to sleep.

On April 6, 2001, Freddie and his band performed for the students
at my school (free of charge). I am still appreciative of them
for volunteering their time and talent when I was a fledgling music teacher.

Freddie passed away on November 18, 2021, just two months later. His death sent shockwaves through London's music community. We were still emerging from the long shadow of the Covid pandemic and its lockdowns, so much of the collective grieving happened online. As I read the countless tributes and memories people shared, I was reminded of just how many lives Freddie had touched through his music, his humour, and his generosity of spirit.

Freddie's hat and vest on display at the London Music
Hall of Fame in 2022.

Listening to Hank Williams' 40 Greatest Hits recently brought many of those memories rushing back. I could almost hear Freddie's enthusiastic cries of "Testify!" between songs, or see him raising a glass and declaring, "Let the good spirits enter your body," before launching into I Saw The Light or one of the many Hank Williams tunes I now love.

Somewhere along the way, Freddie taught me that great songs don't have to be complicated to be profound. Hank Williams' lyrics, which I once dismissed as simplistic, turned out to be honest, direct, and enduring. Every time I hear Jambalaya, Hey, Good Lookin', or Cold, Cold Heart, I don't just think of Hank Williams. I think about Monday nights and long conversations at the Brunswick; watching WrestleMania's with friends; and specifically a larger-than-life musician in a wide-brimmed hat who helped me hear those songs with new ears.

The 500 - #105 - Modern Sounds In Country And Western Music, Volumes 1 & 2 - Ray Charles

I was inspired by a podcast called The 500 hosted by New York-based comedian Josh Adam Meyers. His goal, and mine, is to explore Rolling Stone Magazine's 2012 edition of The 500 Greatest Albums of All Time.

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Album: #105

Album Title: Modern Sounds In Country and Western Music, Volumes 1 &2

Artist: Ray Charles

Genre: Country reimagined as soul, gospel, R&B, Countrypolitan

Recorded: Capital Studios, New York City, and United Western, Hollywood U.S.A.

Released: March, 1962

My age at release: I was not born

How familiar was I with it before this week: Not at all, although I did know many songs as country standards.

Is it on the 2020 list? Yes, at #127, dropping 22 spots

Song I am putting on my Spotify Playlist: You Are My Sunshine

This week’s post may be shorter than most, though not for lack of material. If anything, it’s the opposite. June has arrived in that familiar blur that every teacher recognizes, bringing with it the convergence of deadlines, celebrations, and the steady hum of unfinished work. It is an annual rite as the school year ends with a torrent of urgency and anxiety that need to be dealt with. Report cards are being finalized, major projects are arriving in quick succession, and my desk has become an archaeological site of rubrics, feedback sheets, and half-drunk coffees.

My workspace - captured Saturday, June 6 at 1:40 pm.

In Science, my Grade 7s have been building cardboard arcade games as part of our Form and Function unit. The Makerspace is filled with ramps, levers, targets, and the constant classroom  negotiation over design ambition and structural reality.

One of the cardboard arcade games.

Upstairs, my Grade 6s have been writing standardized tests set by the provincial government of Ontario. When students get downtime from these mandatory assessments, I keep them busy with a unit based on Star Wars. It connects to their Science unit on the principles of flight. All of this in preparation for our year-end trip to see The Mandalorian and Grogu.

Poster for The Mandalorian and Grogu.

At the same time, the class has zig-zagged across the globe through Season 35 of The Amazing Race, using each leg of the reality show race as a springboard into geography and social studies. The Grade 6's, in particular, have been digging into Canada’s trading partners, trying to make sense of how goods  and resources move across borders, building international relationships. Balancing two curriculums simultaneously is always a challenge at this time of year. It feels like trying to keep multiple spinning plates on sticks while someone adds more.

Promotional poster for The Amazing Race.

In the middle of all this, life beyond school continues. This weekend,  my dad and his wife visited  to attend my nephew’s wedding. The pace was different, with the usual domestic routines subjugated to conversation, shared meals, car juggling and the small rituals that come with having family nearby. In that environment, It’s in that space, somewhere between a cluttered table of school reports, assignment marking,  blog writing, and formal wear preparation, that this week’s album found its place to shine.

Album cover for Modern Sounds - Volume 1.

Ray Charles’ Modern Sounds in Country and Western Music played in the background throughout the weekend, fitting this moment in a way that last week’s record could not. As much as I appreciated Rocket to Russia, it’s not exactly built for easy conversation over dinner. Ray Charles, on the other hand, perfectly suited the mood. It’s the kind of music that doesn’t demand your full attention, but satisfies it when you give it. More importantly, it’s the kind of record my dad and his wife genuinely seemed to enjoy.

Album cover for Modern Sounds - Volume 2.

Released six months apart, but now available as a single album set, Modern Sounds in Country and Western Music, falls into a category that was new to me: "Countrypolitan". It’s a style that sits at the intersection of country and pop.

Poster for a Countrypolitan Radio Station
Orlando, Florida, 1965.

A helpful overview on Wikipedia traces this shift back to the early 1960s, when the polished Nashville sound began to face serious competition from two very different directions. On the country side, the raw, stripped-down Bakersfield sound pushed back against established country music's slickness, while on the pop front, the British Invasion reshaped music tastes entirely. These developments were deeply affected by the tragic deaths of two of Nashville’s leading voices -- Patsy Cline and Jim Reeves, both lost in separate plane crashes.

Record cover for Nashville Sound, featuring Cline and Reeves.

In response, Nashville doubled down on refinement. This new sound evolved into countrypolitan, a smoother, more commercially minded style characterized by lush string arrangements, full orchestras, and frequent adornment of  rich background vocals often provided by choirs. The goal was clearly to appeal to mainstream audiences.

A Countrypolitan Record from 1966.

Enter Ray Charles, who prized these Country and Western music standards for their melody and directness of their lyrics. However, it is important to note that Charles was not asked to create a Countrypolitan sound. He chose to reimagine these songs by replacing "fiddle and steel" arrangements by adding strings, horns and backing vocals. He also infused elements of gospel, R&B and soul into these orchestrations. It was textbook Countrypolitan, but Charles got there independently.

Ray Charles performing live with an orchestra.

Listening to Charles' Modern Country now, in the middle of a chaotic June weekend, it’s striking how effortless it feels. One wouldn't think this was a record that was challenging expectations. It sounds natural and comfortable; as if it has always belonged.  It is another reminder that makes working through The 500 so compelling. I came into this project thinking I’d be revisiting familier and discovering new artists. What I didn’t expect was how often I’d be reframing what I thought I already knew. An album I had never listened to before this week turns out to be a bridge, between country and soul, between markets, between generations, and, in a small way, between my classroom chaos and a weekend spent with family.

I guess the post wasn't that short after all. Regardless, it is back to report cards and family visits.

The 500 - #120 - Sweetheart Of The Rodeo - The Byrds

I was inspired by a podcast called The 500 hosted by New York-based comedian Josh Adam Meyers. His goal, and mine, is to explore Rolling Stone Magazine's 2012 edition of The 500 Greatest Albums of All Time.

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Album #: 120
Album Title: Sweetheart of the Rodeo
Artist: The Byrds
Genre: Country-Rock, Roots-Rock, Americana, Progressive Country
Recorded: Columbia Studios in Nashville and Los Angeles

Released: August, 1968
My age at release: 3
How familiar was I with it before this week: One song
Is it on the 2020 list? Yes, at #274, dropping154 places
Song I am putting on my Spotify Playlist: One Hundred Years From Now

I am delighted to welcome back, for his third visit as a guest blogger, podcaster and writer of the My Life In Concerts media page, Various Artists. Enjoy.

The Byrds were never one of those bands that I “discovered”: they already existed fully-formed as a contemporary, thriving entity as my awareness of the world around me began to take shape in my later-1960s, childhood brain.

I loved how they sounded, with McGuinn’s chiming, jangling guitar, the gorgeous choirboy harmonies, the brilliant songwriting and interpretations, their musical adventurousness, the trippy folk rock sound, and also their supercool look via McGuinn’s fringe and granny glasses, David Crosby’s capes, and drummer Michael Clarke out-Brian-Jonesing Brian Jones with his barnet.

Michael Clarke with his "barnet" aka: hair. Barnet is cockney
rhyming slang, taken from the annual horse fair, held in Barnet, England.
Barnet fair = hair.

I was also very aware of them as my 12-year-old sister went along with her friends to scream at them when they played here at the London Arena in 1966. She loved the show. (I also only just now realized: my sister and I saw our first concert at the same age).

Concert poster for The Byrds show at the 
London Arena.

While I loved the band, I didn’t actually own a Byrds album until the early 80s. At that time, that 12-string Rickenbacker jangle sound had returned as a massive influence to indie and alternative rock in a big way. So many of my favourite bands of the time -- R.E.M., The Smiths, Orange Juice, Echo and the Bunnymen, and a bit later, The Grapes of Wrath -- were clearly indebted to The Byrds (and Big Star for most of them too) in their music. Most also actively championed California’s Five Mop Tops as an influence and sonic inspiration.

A 12-string, Model 360 guitar from the Rickenbaker manufacturer.

They first hit hard in the summer of 1965 with their innovative folk rock take on Bob Dylan’s Mr. Tambourine Man. As it turns out, that sense of innovation was a quality that the band never stopped embracing, leading to musical tangents and line-up fluctuations in the years ahead. The next few years saw them release a series of adventurous and increasingly psychedelic albums.

Album cover for Mr. Tambourine Man by The Byrds.

In the mid-80s, after purchasing Greatest Hits, a friend of mine who was already a Byrds nut taped most of their albums for me. It was then that I went deep into my own Byrdsmania, particularly loving the journey through their first six.

For those rare bands or artists who literally change the course of music, it is usually one of their greatest honours. Well, The Byrds changed the face of music THREE TIMES.

The Byrds' 1968 line-up, (l-r) McGuinn, Kevin Kelley, Gram
Parsons and Chris Hillman.

First, with their original folk rock hits which launched that genre and movement. The second time around, they became one of the premier California rock acts to go early and deep into psychedelic experimentation, with 1966’ Eight Miles High as one of the very first psychedelic hits.

Album cover for The Byrds' Eight Miles High.

And then there’s change number three which brings us to this week’s album: 1968’s Sweetheart of the Rodeo. Album number six was a sharp left turn into country music, but modern and infused with young people’s values and vibes.

They’d birthed folk-rock. Now they were birthing its cousin, country-rock.

By this time, three of the five original Byrds were gone (Gene Clark, David Crosby, and Michael Clarke) replaced by Kevin Kelly on drums and, much more importantly, Gram Parsons on guitars and keyboards.

The Byrds original line-up, (l-r) Crosby, Clark, Clarke, Hillman
and McGuinn.

At the time, Parsons was largely unknown. He himself had started exploring the country-rock synthesis with his own small-time group, the International Submarine Band. And indeed, a variety of artists had contemporaneously been exploring this genre merge with specific tracks: Buffalo Springfield, Mike Nesmith of The Monkees, even The Beatles and The Stones.

Gram Parsons, who appears three times on The 500 list, with
two bands (The Byrds and The Flying Burrito Brothers) and solo.

But Sweetheart of the Rodeo was a complete leap into the deep end. Initially, McGuinn’s vision for the album was going to be a survey of 20th Century American music, starting with bluegrass and country through jazz, R&B, etc. But it was the newly-installed Parsons who eventually swayed Roger and bassist Chris Hillman into making the record an all-country affair, blended with aspects of rock music and attitude.

Essentially, Parsons wanted to blend a variety of roots genres into what he named as Cosmic American Music.

Image from Robert Rubsum's 2017 article, Cosmic American Music.

The LP’s material ranged from traditional-to-recent country classics (I Am a Pilgrim, The Christian Life, Blue Canadian Rockies, Life in Prison, etc.) as well as countryfied folk (Pretty Boy Floyd) and R&B (You Don’t Miss Your Water). And since this is a Byrds' album, there is the requisite, and excellent, Dylan covers (You Ain’t Goin’ Nowhere and Nothing Was Delivered) although here they were making their public debut as McGuinn sourced both of these songs from the then-unreleased Basement Tapes. (#292 on The 500 list).

The Basement Tapes album cover - a 1975 release from Bob Dylan
backed with members of The Band.

Then there were the two Parsons originals: One Hundred Years from Now and the classic Hickory Wind which he later re-recorded for his seminal and final album, Grievous Angel (#425 on The 500)

When I got that glut of Byrds cassettes in the ‘80s, Sweetheart was one of the first I played as I had read so much about it. I couldn’t have been introduced to it at a more perfect time. In that era, I was listening first to some country-inflected bands, particularly R.E.M., as well as some of the great country legends such as Johnny Cash, Patsy Cline, and Hank Williams along with some of the new, more left-field country artists such as Steve Earle, k.d. lang, Emmylou Harris, and Dwight Yoakam.

In hearing Sweetheart, I experienced the seed that flowered into a variety of more alternative country sounds and movements over the next several decades. I also rediscovered Gram Parsons. I knew who he was as my brother had some Flying Burrito Brothers albums in the early 70s, but had largely forgotten about him and them.

Album cover for The Flying Burrito Brothers, The Gilded Palace
of Sin, #192 on The 500.

I absolutely loved this album from first listen: the songs, the vocals, all the pedal steel and great playing, the whole feel and aesthetic. I went on to play it obsessively in the years ahead, buying the CD upon its ‘80s release and a deluxe version from this century. I still love it today.

A pedal steel guitar being played.

In and around this time, Pamela Des Barres released her landmark book, I’m With the Band: Confessions of a Groupie, of which Parsons is one of the key players. It all just seemed to be in the air at that time.

I'm With The Band: Confessions of a 
Groupie book by Pamela Des Barres.

As with most innovators and innovations, the wider audience is usually not prepared or open-minded enough to initially welcome such a deviation. Indeed, during the recording of this album, the band played a show at the Grand Ole Opry where they received a hostile reaction from the mainstream country audience.

Furthermore, when the album dropped in August 1968, it absolutely tanked (just like the two other very different albums from 1968 that Marc has had me write about: The Velvet Underground’s White Light/White Heat and The Kinks’ Village Green Preservation Society). 

Album cover for The Kinks' Village Green Preservation
Society (1968).

The band and album were essentially shot by both sides upon its release. Anything to do with country music couldn’t have been more toxic or undesirable to the hippie cognoscenti while the typical country audience saw them as long-haired hippie freak weirdo interlopers.

It resulted in SOTR being their lowest-charting and lowest-selling album to date. Initially.

Meanwhile, Parsons had already jumped ship two months before its release as the album vanished.

As it turns out, it was just slightly ahead of the curve. 1968 also saw a roots music revival countering psychedelia with the arrival of The Band’s debut, Music From Big Pink, as well as Bob Dylan’s John Wesley Harding and 1969’s Nashville Skyline, and back-to-roots albums by the Beatles and Stones.

Sweetheart’s influence began making an impact as the country rock genre surged in the ‘70s, with this album -- and Parsons’ post-Byrds career with the Burritos -- being its progenitors.

By that time, SOTR was retrospectively hailed as an influential classic, with its impact now spanning the decades, especially on the Outlaw and then Alt-Country movements.

What started as a commercial failure has become a consistent seller over the decades.

I put it on to relisten to it a few times before writing this piece and it still sounds so fresh, vibrant, and sparkling. Here’s a rodeo always worth attending.

The 500 - #164 = The Very Best Of Linda Ronstadt - Linda Ronstadt

I was inspired by a podcast called The 500 hosted by Los Angeles-based comedian Josh Adam Meyers. His goal, and mine, is to explore Rolling Stone Magazine's 2012 edition of The 500 Greatest Albums of All Time. 

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Album: #164

Album Title: The Very Best of Linda Ronstadt

Artist: Linda Ronstadt

Genre: Country, Rock, Soft Rock, Pop

Recorded: Various Studios (1967-1995)

Released: September, 2002

My age at release: 37 (My guest blogger, Ava, was not born)

How familiar was I with it before this week: Quite (New to Ava)

Is it on the 2020 list? No, but her 1974 record, Heart Like A Wheel, is

Song I am putting on my Spotify Playlist: You’re No Good

For the fifth straight year, I have invited  anyone in my Grade 7 class  to pick an upcoming record and write about. I was delighted when Ava accepted the challenge. Here is her post on The Very Best Of Linda Ronstadt, by Linda Ronstadt.

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Hi, my name is Ava and I am a Grade 7 student in Mr. Hodgkinson’s class. Earlier this year he asked if any of us would be interested in being a guest blogger for one of the records on Rolling Stone Magazine's The 500 Greatest Albums of All Time and I volunteered.

Let me tell you about myself. I love performing and I am definitely an extrovert. I like singing and acting, but my passion is dancing. I have been taking dance classes since I was three. One of my favourite musical artists is Justin Beiber. I became a fan when my aunt played it for me and she is hoping to take me to see him in concert. She even gave me her concert sweatshirt from this 2009 tour. (See Below)

 

The album I picked from the list Mr. Hodgkinson showed me is The Very Best Of Linda Ronstadt, by Linda Ronstadt. At first, I wasn’t sure which album to pick, but I went home and shared it with my dad. We listened to a few tracks from some of the other records, but I picked Ms. Ronstadt because I wanted to learn about a female artist and it stuck out from the other records we listened to, including Imperial Bedroom by Elvis Costello and Live At Leeds by The Who. They were okay, but Ms. Ronstadt stood out more.

Linda Ronstadt in the 1970s.

I did some research and this is what I learned.

Linda Ronstadt is an American singer who was born July 15, 1946. Linda’s family life was filled with music and tradition, which influenced the stylistic and musical choices she later made in her career. She has performed and recorded in many genres including country, rock, opera, and Latin music. She was awarded the Grammy Lifetime Achievement Award by the Recording Academy in 2016. She was inducted into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame in April, 2014.

Winning one of her 11 Grammy Awards.

Despite not being married, she has two children. In 1990, she adopted a daughter, Mary and in 1994, she adopted a baby boy she named Carlos.

The song I picked for Mr, Hodgkinson’s playlist is You’re No Good. I like it because it is catchy and fun to sing along with. It wasn’t written by Ms. Ronstadt but by Clint Ballard Jr. He was an American songwriter who had two number one hits. One was this version of his song by Linda Ronstadt and the other was in 1965 – Game of Love performed by Wayne Fontana and The Mindbenders.

Linda reduced her performance schedule after 2000 when she felt her singing voice deteriorating. She released her final solo album in 2004 and her final collaborative album in 2006, and performed her final live concert in 2009. She announced her retirement in 2011 and revealed shortly afterward that she is no longer able to sing because, sadly, she was diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease – a progressive disorder that primarily affects the brain's movement-controlling areas. Since that time Linda has continued to make public appearances, going on a number of public speaking tours raising awareness about her illness.

When I read about her Parkinson’s diagnosis I felt a lot of empathy for her. She is a singer and I am a dancer and I can’t imagine not being able to dance anymore. I know that she is being brave and fighting through this, but it must be very hard for her.

Here are five fun facts I learned about Ms. Ronstadt.

• She was the first female artist to have four consecutive albums go platinum.
• She has been nominated for 27 Grammy Awards and has won 11.
• She has also been awarded a Grammy Lifetime Achievement Award.
• She has even won an Emmy Award for her 1989 performance in Canciones De Mi Padre (Songs of my Father) on the PBS special Great Performances.
• Her grandfather, Lloyd Groff Copeman, was an inventor. Among his inventions, he designed early versions of the electric toaster, stove refrigerator and even the microwave oven. He also invented the flexible rubber ice cube tray which earned him millions of dollars. We have one of those in our fridge, so I guess we gave the Ronstadt family some money,

Thanks for reading.

That's all for today BYE! -Ava

(credits to Wikipedia for the blog and CNN10 for the facts)