"And love will be made, each one as they please"
Deputy Inspector Seymour Pine didn't expect it, nor did that handful of police officers under his command, nor would Mayor Lindsay have imagined it; damn! It was just one of the many raids that had the sole purpose of making a "scene" for the election campaign; after all, it was nothing more than giving a "brush-up" to some queens and cross-dressers who hung around a venue run by Italian-American mobsters. Everyone knew it, it happened almost every night, in that early summer of 1969; everyone expected it, and the next day, everything would start again as before.
But instead, at the Stonewall Inn on Christopher Street there in Greenwich Village, that night things went differently: a woman resisted arrest, calling for help from the small crowd that had gathered, a bottle was thrown at a window, and a brick at the police officers; from there a fire broke out that lasted at least 5 days and 5 nights and which, even today, is remembered as "The Stonewall Riots".
The woman who was struggling was named Stormé DeLarverie, and this we know. As for the bottle and the brick, however, the versions begin to diverge: the reports say that Sylvia Rivera threw that bottle and that the brick (or rather “the” bricks) came from a nearby factory whose striking workers joined the riots; however, some witnesses swear that it was Marsha P. Johnson who threw that bottle (or perhaps it was a glass) and that the brick also came out of her bag as she climbed a lamppost. Many others, however, claim that she wasn’t even there or that she arrived much later.
But, beyond all reconstructions of facts, everyone knows that Sylvia and Marsha were at the head of that rebellion. The problem is that Marsha was "too much" even for a movement like that. So much so that, for a long time, attempts were made to obscure her true role in those days. Despite this, for many, Marsha is something like a Rosa Parks.
Now, the comparison is cumbersome and, perhaps, a bit forced. But it helps to understand.
Surely, to Antony Hegarty, that comparison doesn't seem so far-fetched. In fact, when, after an apprenticeship in theater and performances with the queer collective "Blacklips Performance Cult," he decides to form a musical group, it comes almost naturally to call it "Antony and the Johnsons" precisely in honor of Marsha P. Johnson.
I believe we've all listened to Antony's first four albums (or parts of them). The success has gone well beyond the rosiest expectations and even beyond the commercial logic; for some time, our artist almost became a kind of "parsley" featured far too much, falling into the trap of even tiring those – like me – who had appreciated him from the beginning.
Fortunately, Antony himself was among the first to realize it and, with intelligence and – in my opinion – a good dose of courage (or recklessness), he closed with everything and faced a radical change.
Radical in every sense.
And so, from the ashes of Antony, Anohni appeared.
"I'll grow back like a Starfish".
Anohni – the starfish – is a lunar being and, on that thread precariously balanced between every absurd dualism, she wants to walk alone. So, along with many other things from her previous life, our Starfish also closes with the Johnsons. Except that, if for the rest (at least I hope) things seem to be going as they should, with music, they’re not. "Hopelessness" seeks new paths but, at least for the writer, doesn’t find them.
Anohni perceives it too; she feels that it is not a time for pacification, that there are still long and winding roads to travel, that there are still battles for which one has to stand up, and so there is no choice but to call the Johnsons back into service, along with Marsha’s ghost and the themes that certain choices inevitably recall. In short, if you title an album with something like: "My Ass Was a Bridge for You to Cross," well, I don't think there's much room for interpretation! And, to make everything even clearer, on the cover, Anohni also slaps a nice photo of Marsha smiling. Because, and there should be no doubt about this, for her this is a “political” album, whatever that may mean.
And, to make everything even clearer, Anohni will also declare that the model she was inspired by is that "What's Going On" by Marvin Gaye, which (I think I can take for granted) you all know.
Now, the comparison is cumbersome and, perhaps, a bit forced. But it helps to understand.
Anohni is not so silly as not to know that, confronting such a monument (not just of “black music”), the risk of crashing and getting hurt is quite high! In fact, the reference is not calligraphic at all; it’s more a matter of inspiration and nuances, a stuff of “signs” and “legacy”. "What's Going On" is an album of transformations and changes; it's a “political” but not “militant” album, an album that opened paths and, Anohni has tried to say something similar.
The music is different, although those who, like me, have consumed Gaye's album (perhaps if they have also consumed the "stripped down" version known as "Detroit Mix," it will be more evident), on more than one occasion during the listening of this work, will find themselves perking up their ears and cracking a smile. The music is different, but not so far removed: a soul – "white," it goes without saying – stylized and essential (the real, main difference between the new Johnsons and the past lies in the almost total absence of strings and with them all the baroque features that had characterized the first productions), where Anohni's voice always reigns, allowing no half measures, that you either love or hate but which does not leave you indifferent, and her ability to write great songs.
"And in this society a scapegoat is all I can be”
I know "political" is a worn word and that here it might seem redundant, but what "political" value the theme of the "body" has is something that needs no mention: no power that claims to be effective can escape the necessity of its control; and don't make the mistake, due to superficiality, of confusing the theme of body control with that, which is just one aspect, of sexuality.
Marsha used her bulky and ungovernable body like a brick (or a bottle) to be thrown against every form of control and dominance long before that night at the Stonewall Inn. But bodies are also fragile, they break, they bleed, they are sources of needs, and they are cages. Marsha was a sacrificial lamb, a scapegoat, weak and dangerously “monstrous.” Her body was easily broken, and that smile in the forefront, on the cover of Anohni's album, for those who know her story, is the most disturbing thing (perhaps the only one) about this work which, for the writer, remains one of the best releases in a long time.
Ah! The P. of the new name – Marsha P. Johnson – that Malcolm Michaels chose along with her new body stands for “Pay no mind”: "don't mind it," "forget it," "don't give it weight," "pay no attention" and think of the essential. Which seems like a pretty good piece of advice, even on issues other than this, to give to some people.
"And without much disturbance someone will disappear, maybe the too clever or the fools of every age"
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