Janis Joplin
Pearl

THE REVIEW

For those who don't know her, or haven't yet listened to her, I would introduce, as a simple mortal, the most beautiful illegitimate daughter the black blues ever produced.

Dear Janis,

I write to you to thank you, for having gifted us a vocal experience worthy of Billie Holiday, for breaking the sound barrier with that shrieking, sulfurous, deep, deadly voice...

I write to you to thank that day when you joined a dark group of older brothers to declare to the world that blues is not only black and not only characterized by hemp chords or inimitable voices of African descent or fairer skin tones (Piece of my heart). I thank you for giving us those unforgettable songs that only you could sing, thanks to those incredible compressions of your diaphragm, but I scold you for making it too worn out by liters of "Southern Comfort" and thousands of cigarettes (?).

I scold you for the kind of life you chose, so wild, so transgressive, even excessively lustful, where few know that during the three days of Woodstock you had 65 encounters of unknown origin. Janis, how much stuff did you drop? Couldn't you have changed and gifted us one more "Summertime," where even Gershwin probably bowed? Couldn't you have given us another silently almost whispered "Mercedes Benz" or another poignant and immortal "Cry baby," with that unique voice of yours, mixed with that stifled metallic noise that only you could give it?

Why did you decide to leave with Jim and Jimi, in the same way as they did? I would have liked to see you again, jingling those kilos of scrap metal you wore. I would have liked to see you again with those horrible but characteristic round glasses. I would have liked to hear you a bit more.

You made me mad Janis, but I love you just the same...