Liner Notes of Wesla's Album "In My Life"
These notes are being written in the fall of 2004, very shortly after completion of all production work on the album
they accompany. For me, this fall also marks completion of 36 years of living in San Francisco.
Where did all that time go? And even though this year isn't one of the traditionally significant ones, noting the end
of a decade or a quarter century or the like, it strikes me as being as good a time as any to reflect on my life and
career so far.
"In My Life" is a song held dearly in my heart ever since first hearing it — which happens to have
been not very long before my entry into this city -- and it seems an inevitably choice as the title of this recording.
It speaks of life's changes, both the good and the ones that don't seem so positive, and thus it recalls for me how
I felt when I first arrived on that September day in 1968. I knew absolutely no one. Sure, I'd visited for a few days
a decade and a half before as a very young girl on a vacation trip with my family, but I had not been back since.
My loneliness in those first few weeks was overwhelming. For several days in a row there was no one to speak to
except for an occasional polite hello. (At least the hellos were friendly on my part; I wasn't too sure about the quality
of the responses.) I remember flashing on the possibility that this might well be what very old age was like, when
everyone close to you has died or gone away — not a cheery thought. But that period of extreme anxiety only
seemed endless; it actually didn't last very long. Classes soon began at San Francisco State, and I quickly made
friends in the music and drama departments. Friends always lead to more of the same, and over the years I"ve been
blessed with so very many. When I recall that initial emptiness and compare it to my life today, filled with literally
hundreds of people so dear to me, I can only smile. These are the life lessons that offer hope in the midst of despair,
along with the knowledge that the changes that will come cannot be known to us in advance. And yes, it is all there
in that wonderful song.
Nevertheless, I had known since that first trip in the early Fifties that somehow I'd get back and hopefully make a
life for myself here. Now, when people comment on how much change I must have seen in San Francisco in almost
four decades, I must agree the city has indeed altered a great deal. But San Francisco has also had a hand in
reshaping me — and on the whole I think it hasn't changed nearly as much as I have....
Wesla Whitfield
Without the stunning arrangements from Mike Greensill, these songs would of course still be beautiful, but his
musical ideas and the skills to realize them move the songs up several notches from where he finds them on the
printed page. I cannot say enough good things about Mike's ability to make songs even better than what they were
when he started - and without ever distorting even a smidgen of the original magic. He arranges them and then plays
them as no one else can. You just gotta love this guy. I feel so honored to have been working with John Wiitala for
a few years now. His musical skills and patient, careful listening offer an unbeatable combination, enhancing the
sound he finds and infusing it with his own understated artistry. Most of my live performances these days include
these two amazing musicians, and they unfailingly make me sound better than I really am - which is what every singer
secretly hopes for. Here, for the first time is the sound you're most likely to find in our live performance.
This is the first time I have done an all-ballads album. The idea stems from requests from my audience. People seem
almost always to ask for the slow, sad songs, and I believe we crave those and love hearing them as an artful and
more socially acceptable means of experiencing life's losses than mere self indulgent whining. Life is hard, and we
all have painful days, which is something that can help us grow. We return to those moments in the same way our
tongue might push at a loose tooth; reminding us that we're not alone in our suffering. Of course, some of these
ballads are anything but sad; instead they take us to some positive realities -- or at least possibilities and contrast this
with a tragedy that might have been. I like such sentiments best and hope you'll be able to find your own experiences
somewhere in here.
To begin on just such a note, there is Tea For Two -- such a wonderfully seductive sales pitch, with a message often
lost in a bouncy throwaway rendition that overlooks the story within. When I sing it, I'm seeing that cozy hideaway
and the couple who want nothing more than to be alone with each other. Oh, my!
I Have Dreamed jumps headlong into one's secret fantasy life -- not always necessarily healthy. But sometimes we
want something or someone so much we need to be allowed a bit of self- indulgence. And while the idealized dream
heard in this song might be far more pleasurable than the reality, it is also far more enjoyable to explore! Who was it
that said reality is over-rated? Maybe they're on to something.
In My Life lets me clearly recall listening to the Beatles, playing their music as an act of rebellion towards my parents.
(Usually I was listening to old pop standards and show tunes, so hearing this let them know that something was up.)
By today's standards such music, displaying artistry and inventiveness that far surpasses the current level of the rock
field, would hardly seem to merit a "rebellion" label. The simple Lennon/McCartney melody supports a lyric
reminiscent of a comfy chair next to a small reading lamp in the corner of a darkly cozy room. This is the story of
everyone's life; ordinary and extraordinary at the same time, with value beyond price.
When the Children Are Asleep is from "Carousel" and I've adored it since my first summer stock experience in 1970.
I was the understudy to Carrie, the female lead, and while I never got to play the role (Lee Ann Wood did not so
much as sneeze during the entire run), I watched this scene night after night, contemplating my own future.
Where Is Love? Remember back in grammar school when you'd sometimes try to picture yourself as a grown-up?
I swore to myself I'd never fall in love and certainly never marry -- music was far too important for me to fall into
that trap. I watched my friends, one by one, lose their vision of a career as they drifted into relationships and even
parenthood. And then one day I, too, became smitten and was crushed when it ended. Once that door was opened,
I never could close it, and my heart was broken time and time again. I began to feel just like Oliver Twist, singing the
words that so precisely describe the emptiness and longing I'd managed to avoid for so long.
A Beautiful Friendship is a highly suggestive tune if ever there was one. Here we're plopped down into the exact
moment -- with all its highly charged sexuality -- when friendship moves into a whole new realm of love. Wow!
Autumn in New York. Yes, I freely admit to being a sucker for Eastern autumn, and love it every bit as much as a
West Coast spring. Somehow Vernon Duke captures all that magic in the first phrase -- "Why does it seem so
exciting" -- and just keeps going right up through my favorite word picture, "Lovers who bless the dark / on benches
in Central Park." Oh, can't you just see it! I could sing this song every performance for the rest of my days and find
new ideas in it every time.
Imagine all the broken hearts in the world in one place -- on the Street of Dreams. Samuel Lewis, (not an otherwise-
memorable lyricist) is calling us and promising hope to be found within. Trade old dreams for new, new dreams for
old; this is where they can be both bought and sold. What magic! And then the wonderful punch line: "Silver and
gold, all you can hold is in the moonbeams". No one is poor as long as the heart can still love. Who's not going to
answer that call?
In the Wee Small Hours of the Morning will always bring to mind the last time I ever saw my dad. He and my Mom
came to see and hear me sing with the San Francisco Symphony. A few months later Dad was killed in an auto
accident just shortly before I made my Carnegie Hall debut. My mom just couldn't face the long trip without him, so
her brother and several cousins made their first New York trip to cheer me on. That concert hall is both terrifying and
exhilarating to a degree I've experienced nowhere else, and it gave me great comfort to know I had family up in the
high balcony. This was the first of three songs I sang that night, and as I got into the chorus I felt my dad there too,
cheering me on and reminding me to enjoy myself. I got a curtain call and came out on stage in my wheelchair for the
very first time; all of which makes this song very special to me.
The profound lyric of Wrap Your Troubles In Dreams opens with the repeated question "What price happiness?"
and continues at the bridge with my favorite — "Your castles may crumble. That's fate after all. Life's really funny
that way." Everyone over the age of ten knows the truth of this, and the level of audience response to these words of
wisdom is up in our top five. I love singing the advice that follows: "No use to grumble. Just smile as they fall.
Weren't you king for a day?". I'm singing it for the audience, yes, but much more than that I'm singing it to remind
myself. The best version of this is sung by Maxine Sullivan, who certainly knew what she was talking about.
But Beautiful has become a personal bell weather, and we often use it at the afternoon sound check prior to a gig.
If I can find the first note of the a capella verse before Greensill plays it (I'm never sure it's correct until he comes in
at the chorus), then my ear's memory is functioning and everything is okay with me. Right key or wrong, this song
allows me to describe Johnny Burke's idea of "what love is," and that is indeed nice work.
You Don't Know What Love Is. Okay, there are people in the world who've never had their heart broken to the
extent this song describes, who've never displayed that classic symptom of severe depression and "faced each dawn
with sleepless eyes." Until you've experienced it at first hand, this can sound like overblown histrionics. But take it
from me, this is an absolutely accurate description.
In I'll Be Tired of You, master lyricist Yip Harburg is promising an undying love, and don't we all wish we could
give and be given such a priceless gift with such an ironclad guarantee. Reality tells us that even when we have no
doubts as to intent, emotions can change, and the strongest affections may fade. Nonetheless, this lyric includes the
ideal we hope to hear, to say and believe, always.
Some Other Time is concerned with facing the moment of goodbye, which can be so impossibly painful that we
choose to deny the reality of its approach. We might instead reflect on the happy times shared, discuss a hypothetical
future together, and promise wholeheartedly to take up again right where we left off as soon as this short separation
has passed -- even though we know full well that such a reconciliation probably won't be happening any time soon,
if ever. It is the human condition to hope for the best as life without some faith in "what's to come" would be
impossible to survive. Certainly this makes a fitting sentiment with which to close.....
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