Sessions at West 54th 1998
Philadelphia Folk Festival 1997
#Laura Love #folk #Afro-Celtic #Americana #Afro-Carribean #folk rock #funk #R&B #world music #singer-songwriter #live music video
Singer-songwriter Laura Love has seemed like music's Next Big Thing for years now, a Northwest favorite occasionally brushing with national acclaim for her "Afro-Celtic" mix of exuberance, social conscience and heart. At 44, with a decade of comfort-level success behind her, the West Seattle resident has published a memoir with an accompanying CD. But "You Ain't Got No Easter Clothes" has nothing to do with Love's career, her Carnegie Hall showstopper or her folky-bluesy-jazzy soulful sound. Instead, it's about a child's bewildered love for her mentally unstable mother and a childhood so harrowing it could be used to argue for leniency if she ever committed a crime. Consider this, for instance: The scene where Love slips a noose around her own neck on her mother's command -- after being ordered to kill the pet cat as part of a planned family suicide -- is only a crest in the book's hills and valleys of tragedy. The memoir could have been a horror show, but it's eased by wry humor and amazing grace. And for Love, whose music often has been more global than autobiographical, the publishing debut is "just gravy" after the cathartic process of writing down her life. She wrote without expecting anything to come of it, she said, and found a literary agent through an Internet search after the manuscript was complete.
"I just wanted it to be written down somehow, even if it was just for me.” said Love. "There are few experiences in adult life that loom as large in my head and are as close to the surface as those childhood memories." Love and her older sister, Lisa, were raised in Nebraska by their mother, a highly intelligent, gifted teacher who was fearsomely mentally ill. Their father, Preston Love, one-time sax player for Count Basie, they were told, had died in a car crash when the girls were young. With novel-worthy characters and plot twists, Love describes how she and her sister stumbled through youth in an orphanage, a series of foster homes and their unstable home. Their poverty reached the point where a burglar who kicked down the door told the frightened children who were home alone, "Damn, y'all got less than I do."
The breaking point came not with those life-and-death struggles, but when a neighbor girl mocked Love as she walked home from church with her family.
"You ain't got no Easter clothes!" the girl taunted, as if Love's mother walking right beside her could provide no protection. Love attacked the girl like an animal, with claws and teeth. It's a scene that's hard to square now, with her generous voice and laid-back grin. "I just fell from grace that day, so hard," she said. Love knows she could have tipped either way in life. She said she needed to decide in those years "whether I was going to be a thug or enrolled in society." She was saved, she thinks, by the safety net of social programs such as Head Start and WIC, and the loving example of good teachers and social workers. "To be kind has always felt more powerful to me than to be mean and cruel," Love said. That goodness more than balanced the harsh realities she saw, such as the landlords who tried to turn her away when she began supporting herself at age 16, saying "we've never rented to coloreds."
Love committed her own cruelties and mistakes on the way to adulthood and they're also recounted in the book as plainly as if she were speaking from the stage, telling the whole story beginning to end. Where she did end is with understanding and forgiveness for her mother -- and for an unexpected figure, her father. As a teenager, Love stumbled on an advertisement for a Preston Love concert, talked her way into the show despite being underage and saw, in a shocking flash, that her father wasn't dead after all. He had fathered Love and her sister while married to another woman and raising his own family, she wrote. He was pleasant enough to Love, but never a father figure who took responsibility for her and her sister or felt any blame for the catastrophes they suffered. In her youth, "I was very angry about that and bitter," she said. As an adult, she worked on finding her own forms of family instead of brooding on all that she had lacked. College helped give her a broader perspective. "I've always lived better than 90 percent of the world," she said.
Today, Love is focused on those big-picture wrongs, more inclined to be angry about political cuts to the social programs that helped her, for instance, than to brood about the individual wrongs she endured. "For the most part, I'm grateful for all those things that happened," she said. "All the bad things, too." There's a joy in not being a powerless child anymore, she said, in not being forced to wait for the car that will take you to another dreadful foster home or bleak room. "I exercise every modicum, every bit of choice that I have now," whether it means voting in elections or choosing to eat only humanely raised meat, Love said.
Love supports herself full time with her singing career. She said she's hugely fortunate that she can spend only short blocks of time touring and long periods at home with her family. She and her partner, Pam, along with her best friend/business manager and her older sister, share a West Seattle home. They're now building a solar-and wind-powered house in the Okanogan, "swinging hammers" together, hoping to raise their own food and reduce the amount of natural resources they use and even create a cat sanctuary to protect songbirds from Love's beloved strays.
After 16 years of not knowing if she was alive or dead, Love tracked down her mother in Colorado a few years back with the help of fans who read the request on the liner notes of Love's albums. "I just love her dearly and feel like her mind has been like a torture chamber for her," Love said. In a last unexpected twist, Love is now a mother herself, to an angelic blue-eyed toddler who came to her and Pam in 2002 as a 7-month-old foster child with eight broken bones. "It had to be that bad for me to think I could be a better parent than someone," Love said. She has found patience and enjoyment over the past two years that she couldn't have imagined in herself and a happiness in responding to her daughter the way she wishes her mother could have responded to her.
Love describes the genesis of her singing career in her book as a soaring talent show where "I understood that I would never do anything else for the rest of my life but sing." She loves playing shows and festivals and the applause her music brings. And yet she isn't consumed with thoughts of selling out arenas or signing with another major label (she was represented by Mercury records a few years back), or otherwise seeking fame. Music doesn't define her, she said, it's only one of her great loves. She's truly thankful that she can play bass guitar and sing. "But, really, it's thank God I'm alive." From: https://www.seattlepi.com/entertainment/music/article/musician-laura-love-survived-a-miserable-1151077.php
