I remember many years ago, being at a pub in Balmain, [Sydney, Australia - for all you foreign readers]. I’m sure you’re all familiar with what happens after a few drinks. Especially when there’s a jukebox in the room.
No. I’m not talking about slow dancing, bodice ripping, wet and heavy tongue lashes. I’m talking about the sudden urge to get up and sign sing. When you are naive and full of enthusiasm, you give in to the most god awful baser instincts known to humanity. The urge to sign sign, “Some say love…… it is a river…..” Exactly.
Ah those were the days. Accolades after accolades. Effuvise after effusive, gushing,dripping, simpering declarations of a sight for sore eyes. “Oh dear, what have we let loose here?” Deafies were heard [seen?] to exclaim.
But my dear readers, there’s no need to panic. I have left those days behind. You can’t blame this man for succumbing to moments of guilt free pleasure, and giving in to his baser instincts. So no apologies there. And none will be forthcoming.
What set me off though, are the following three posts, The Sign and the Music, What Do You Think? Is This Putting ASL On a Pedestal?, and Silent Hands Sculpt Epitome of Beauty… Not. The subject of contention was this clip, A Prayer For People Who Hate.
It’s not the intention to denigrate the clip or the people who produced it, but there are a few questions begging to be answered. Namely:
1. What’s the purpose of the signing in the clip?
2. If it was to make it a appealling to Deafies, why do we not see signing the whole way through?
3. Why is signing presented on a pedestal that equates sign as epitome of beauty and emotion, and not as a language?
4. How does it enhance the credibility of the artists, and indeed, the message, when sign is only sued in glimpses?
I admit I get sick of the twee factor in clips like this. It reinforces the stereotype of language purely as an arty, emotional thing. Not at all, a language on par with English, French, Arabic, Hebrew, Yiddish, Spanish, etc. Not only that, Deafies are portrayed as vessels of emotion and not much else.
Give us a fucking break.
The writers in the aforementioned articles are right. We are people. We have a language. And while we feel emotion and express beauty through our hands and body, we are still human, and some of the things we express are not always beautiful. Why should it be? Are hearing people always expressing themselves and speaking beautifully?
And now for the coda to this piece, sign language will have finally arrived when we see songs like Devil gate Drive, Yakuza Girls, I’m Gonna Roll Ya, Highway to Hell, Back In Black, Tear Me Apart and The Wild One, being sign sung. Mebbe a Deaf Bette Midler?
Everything’s Coming Up Grosses [sung in the special "Diva Las Vegas"]
“Seen any good movies lately?”
I’m in a hit,
a big fuckin’ hit, and baby,
Things look swell, things look great.
I got twenty percent of the gate.
Whod’ve dreamt? I’m verklempt.
Because everything’s coming up grosses!
At the top, in my prime,
on the cover of People and Time.
Scrape and bow when I pass.
Blow some smoke up my ass.
One hundred million
ain’t so hard to do!
Honey, everything’s coming up
grosses for me, so fuck you!!!!
[Tom Waits who
sings in a voice that has seen too many late nights [I'm sure I can
come up with the requisite adjectives, but right now I can't be arsed. Tom
does it so well], and you really need the lyrics to follow know what he
is singing. Where most pop songs, indeed songs, are mere words strung
together, Tom’s
songs are like movies or movie scenes. I have tried to write like him,
but the words don’t ring true, because they don’t come from the heart.
Pasties and a G-String
Smelling like a brewery, looking like a tramp,
I ain’t got a quarter, got a postage stamp
Been five o’clock shadow boxing all around the town,
Talking with the old man, sleeping on the ground
Bazanti bootin al zootin al hoot and Al Cohn
Sharing this apartment with a telephone pole
And a fish-net stocking, spike-heel shoes,
Strip tease, prick tease, car keys blues
And the porno floor show, live nude girls,
Dreamy and creamy and brunette curls
Chesty Morgan and Watermelon Rose
Raise my rent and take off all your clothes
With trench coats, magazines, a bottle full of rum,
She’s so good, make a dead man come
Pasties and a G-string, beer and a shot
Portland through a shot glass and a Buffalo squeeze
Wrinkles and Cherry and Twinkie and Pinkie and Fifi live from Gay Paree
Fanfares, rim shots, back stage, who cares, all this hot burlesque for me…………..
Or more to the point:
The Piano has Been Drinking:
The piano has been drinking, my necktie is asleep
And the combo went back to New York, the jukebox has to take a leak
And the carpet needs a haircut, and the spotlight looks like a prison break
And the telephone’s out of cigarettes, and the balcony is on the make
And the piano has been drinking, the piano has been drinking…
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