Everyone has his or her favorite songstress. That one female singer whose siren song resonates with them. Some love Babs. Others cherish Judy or Jennifer Holiday. For me, it’s Cindy Wilson from The B-52’s. Obviously she’s better known for her weird, gorgeous harmonies with Kate Pierson, but I could listen to her solo efforts all day.
I’ve always liked female singers with slow, smoky, ethereal voices. Women that have a vibrato made of molasses … that can, without warning, whoop like a soul sister. Toni Childs, Debora Iyall, Teri Nunn, Christina Amphlett and the list goes on and on. And while I genuinely enjoy Sarah MacLachlan’s melodic voice, part of me wishes she would take that stick out of her ass and pull a Pat Benetar from time to time.
Cindy has one of those voices that reaches in to the rafters and shakes the cobwebs loose. You can’t miss it. It’s colorful and soulful and when mixed with Kate’s soaring, sweeping vocals, it’s bliss. But the reason I like Cindy is because she shrieks, growls and often whispers her way through a song. You never know where her voice will take you.
Cindy is the quiet one in the group. In interviews, she’ll usually have the least to say. On stage, she’ll hover alongside Keith Strickland while he tears up the guitar. She won’t usually deviate much from her spot. And while Kate and Fred shimmy and shake their way across the stage, my eyes always stay transfixed on Cindy.
I met her once. I leaned over and told her she was my favorite. She leaned in and said, “I know.” One of my very favorite songs in the history of the universe is “Girl From Ipanema Goes To Greenland” on which Cindy throws down. She also released a solo effort in 2003 entitled (aptly enough) The Cindy Wilson Band. It was a blend of Southern fried-rock and slow ballads. It’s the only time I’ve ever heard Cindy’s drawl come through loud and clear.
So while Babs, Judy and Liza may have had more commercial success, I’ll take Cindy Wilson and her pipes any day of the week. She ain’t no limburger.