I'm not a fan of Linda Ronstadt's music. Any of it. Also, she never achieved any great popularity here in the U. K. even during her most successful years in the States (roughly between 1974 - 1979). However, I have been listening to and reviewing some of her music in recent weeks but still didn't find much to really warm to in any of her very disparate catalogue.
I was intrigued however to learn something of her current state of health, given that my own father is living with the same condition (which I hope isn't an overly morbid reason for watching!) and so most appreciated the brief parts when she honestly opens up about her incurable Parkinson's Disease debilitation. She disarmingly just drops this fact about her health into her story which rather shows up in poor relief all the other lovey, big-name eulogies to her trotted out by past friends, collaborators and admirers.
Once the prologue reaches the point of her confession, this documentary goes the traditional route of telling the viewer the subject's story from birth to the present day. It seems everybody loves Linda, with no-one having a bad word to say against her, with the likes of Dolly Parton. Jackson Browne, Cameron Crowe and many others lining up to sing her praises.
Sorry, but I just don't like her voice. For me it has a foghorn-like quality to it which too often reduces to rubble any song bearing traces of delicacy or sensitivity. I don't care if Don Henley, Bonnie Raitt or Emmylou Harris's opinions are ranged against me, I just can't hear it.
Of course Ronstadt didn't write any of her own songs either which meant she had to rely on her own instincts to unearth recordable material. Much is made of her chameleon-like musical changes as she goes from folk to country rock, to rock, to new wave (this less successful phase barely mentioned in fact) to operetta, to big band, to Mexican mariachi back to country, but I was never convinced for a second that she was comparable in that regard to, say an artist like Bowie.
From all the fawning tributes paid to her here, I get that she seems to be a nice person, was, indeed still is, highly regarded by her musical peers and I'm sure, a large part of her devoted U. S. / Mexican fan-base. It was genuinely sad to hear her painfully try to hold a note right at the end of the film in a little close-family trio and even if nothing here will change my appreciation or lack of same for her music, I did come away from it with some admiration for her honesty and bravery in facing a terrible disease, especially so, I would imagine, being a singer.
Just as a postscript I'd also just like to register my irritation that there was no crediting of the contribution of the talented late Andrew Gold as the guitarist and often musical arranger in her breakthrough band. He it was who crafted the Beatlesque guitar break which really made memorable her first big solo hit "You're No Good" and you see him frequently in clips of her early years but I didn't hear his name once, indeed, it's her record-producer Peter Asher who tries to take the credit for that game-changing segment of the song. Shame on you, Asher.
I was intrigued however to learn something of her current state of health, given that my own father is living with the same condition (which I hope isn't an overly morbid reason for watching!) and so most appreciated the brief parts when she honestly opens up about her incurable Parkinson's Disease debilitation. She disarmingly just drops this fact about her health into her story which rather shows up in poor relief all the other lovey, big-name eulogies to her trotted out by past friends, collaborators and admirers.
Once the prologue reaches the point of her confession, this documentary goes the traditional route of telling the viewer the subject's story from birth to the present day. It seems everybody loves Linda, with no-one having a bad word to say against her, with the likes of Dolly Parton. Jackson Browne, Cameron Crowe and many others lining up to sing her praises.
Sorry, but I just don't like her voice. For me it has a foghorn-like quality to it which too often reduces to rubble any song bearing traces of delicacy or sensitivity. I don't care if Don Henley, Bonnie Raitt or Emmylou Harris's opinions are ranged against me, I just can't hear it.
Of course Ronstadt didn't write any of her own songs either which meant she had to rely on her own instincts to unearth recordable material. Much is made of her chameleon-like musical changes as she goes from folk to country rock, to rock, to new wave (this less successful phase barely mentioned in fact) to operetta, to big band, to Mexican mariachi back to country, but I was never convinced for a second that she was comparable in that regard to, say an artist like Bowie.
From all the fawning tributes paid to her here, I get that she seems to be a nice person, was, indeed still is, highly regarded by her musical peers and I'm sure, a large part of her devoted U. S. / Mexican fan-base. It was genuinely sad to hear her painfully try to hold a note right at the end of the film in a little close-family trio and even if nothing here will change my appreciation or lack of same for her music, I did come away from it with some admiration for her honesty and bravery in facing a terrible disease, especially so, I would imagine, being a singer.
Just as a postscript I'd also just like to register my irritation that there was no crediting of the contribution of the talented late Andrew Gold as the guitarist and often musical arranger in her breakthrough band. He it was who crafted the Beatlesque guitar break which really made memorable her first big solo hit "You're No Good" and you see him frequently in clips of her early years but I didn't hear his name once, indeed, it's her record-producer Peter Asher who tries to take the credit for that game-changing segment of the song. Shame on you, Asher.