Tina Turner
Private Dancer

“And who the heck is Tina Turner?!?!” exclaims my cousin Enzo, and the question, contrasting with the emphasis of Pippo Baudo's introduction, triggers general hilarity. Sure, today the question might reveal a certain ignorance, something Enzo is proudly permeated with, but we are in the spring of 1979, and few in Italy and Europe know Tina Turner, let alone him who repeatedly plays Brigantony's cassette “A zita pilusa” in the stereo of his 127, the Catanese answer to Leone di Lernia. However, I must credit my cousin for introducing me, beyond Tony's gems, to the most ignoble Karate films - the ones made by simply positioning the camera at ground level - and the “gionnaletti vastasi” like “Il Tromba,” “Il Montatore,” “Lando,” etc. All fundamental things for the formation of a pre-adolescent at the dawn of the '80s: the years in which Tina will become a global star and I an adolescent enthralled by the sight of her thighs!

Today, two years after her passing, and as I approach my 59th spring, the whole world recognizes in her more than just an artist, a revolutionary force that challenged and defeated the music industry. Age and gender, once rigid limits chaining many artists, were simply redefined by her existence. A life that today everyone is familiar with, also because it's perfect material for a book, a film, or a musical. And, indeed, Tina's story has been recounted in her autobiography, in the film “Tina – What's Love Got to Do With It” and in a Broadway musical. No need to add more here. Here I want to talk about how she managed to become a superstar thanks to the album under review.

Released in 1984, it wasn't just a triumph of criticism and audience (with over 12 million copies sold worldwide, in 2020 it was selected by the Library of Congress for preservation in the National Recording Registry as “culturally, historically or aesthetically significant”) but also embodied many characteristics that would define the years of Reagan-era hedonism, starting from the punk haircut sported by the singer on the cover. After a tumultuous divorce from her husband and music partner Ike Turner, she had spent years rebuilding her career with little success. In the late '70s, Tina regularly performed in the clubs and cabarets of Los Angeles, the cemetery of once-glittering careers; laden with debt, she flew all the way to Italy to perform at “Luna Park,” ending up becoming a regular guest. What won't someone do to support herself and her children! Between a few highs (support act in the Tattoo You World Tour of the Stones) and many lows, this was how it went for several years until she decided to take the bull by the horns inspired by the ongoing success of those friends in the rock world, like the Rolling Stones, Rod Stewart, and David Bowie.

Rock, the poetics of rock, is indispensable to understanding the story. “Rock'n'roll is white, fundamentally because white people haven't had big problems, so they write about much lighter and more fun things. Since I was no longer depressed, I wanted to sing songs that weren't depressing. I didn't want to get on stage and sing about cheating on your wife or husband in front of those kids because they couldn't understand it, they wanted fun and laughter: rock'n'roll is full of energy, it's mischievous!” Tina will explain in a 1992 interview with the BBC. Although this album is really a collection of tracks embracing the emerging new wave sound, incorporating elements of synth-pop, soul, and rock. And today, perhaps, its limitation is precisely that of being a shamelessly '80s production with drum machines, synths, and syrupy saxophones prominently featured, although Turner's voice is impeccable through and through.

The making of this work stemmed from the fortunate convergence of several factors. First among them one of those fortuitous moments when an artist finds themselves in the right place at the right time, Tina received an offer from Martyn Ware of Heaven 17 to sing on a cover of the Temptations' “Ball Of Confusion” for their side project BEF. The track had the merit of presenting Turner in a new light, demonstrating her ability to propose contemporary material. Additionally, Tina, after twenty years of career, had nonetheless cultivated solid friendships among rock world artists, and it was precisely these that helped her to convince everyone of the project's validity to which, among others, Ware himself, also co-producer, and with his bandmate Glenn Gregory on backing vocals, Jeff Beck on guitar in “Private Dancer” and Gary Barnacle on sax in “Let's Stay Together” were called to collaborate.

The opening is entrusted to the significant and autobiographical “I Might Have Been Queen,” which immediately sets the general mood. But the leading single is “What's Love Got To Do With It” that perfectly renders the sound blend between rock and southern soul and will become her recognizably iconic trademark. This song allows Tina's voice to show how she can handle warmer and richer sounds and alternate sweet and powerful parts in the chorus. Certainly, the already “Acid Queen” would have preferred the leading track to be something more rock, but there's little to regret, given that from this cornerstone as many as seven singles were extracted, released on both sides of the Atlantic, proving the compactness and depth of the work. “Show Some Respect,” on the other hand, is a pounding rock track, punctuated by a funky guitar riff and much more in line with what Tina had in mind. In “I Can't Stand The Rain,” which starts with a simple percussive rain sound before a synthesizer joins Tina's voice, the '80s are well present in the sound choice and instrumental sections, which distances it a bit from Ann Peebles' 1973 original version. But, in the years since, the unanimously most precious jewel is the title track, originally written by Mark Knopfler for the album Love Over Gold; Knopfler thought the song should be sung by a woman. The track, with its dark atmosphere and ambiguous lyrics, is built around a cocktail lounge groove with delicate piano and rhythmic sax. Tina offers a soft, muffled voice for the verses before transitioning to an overpowering chorus and Jeff Beck's guitar solo for the climax of the track that tells of a woman reclaiming her power through her erotic charge, striking a blow to a society still grappling with the theme of female autonomy. But Turner's past, which the singer refused to be silenced for, was now a fundamental and unyielding principle of her existence. She faced the controversy head-on, transforming it into a weapon: identifying her sensuality - often used to humiliate women - she turned it into her banner of defiance.

Side B is almost all covers, with mixed results. If Al Green's success “Let's Stay Together” marries perfectly with Tina's voice, the version of the Beatles' “Help,” sweet and soothing, leaves me wanting to hear it turn into a rapid and overwhelming piece, but instead, it is and remains a ballad. Much better is “Better Be Good To Me,” a cover of a little-known 1981 single by the American band Spider, which became one of her live concert classics. Even better is the original “Steel Claw” with a nice electric guitar and Turner singing at a brisk pace. This is Tina's rock that branded the '80s and works very well vocally with the music that simply follows suit. As homage to the White Duke and the year of release, it closes with “1984.” This cover carries a strong Heaven 17 sound and personally doesn't drive me crazy even though it highlights the richness of the record and the willingness to embrace different influences. Followed by a worldwide tour of 177 sold-out dates, the album wasn't just a colossal commercial success, but also Tina Turner's personal redemption. After recovering from being a penniless night singer, she became one of the most successful artists in history and a model adored by millions of people. “Private Dancer” was the foundation of it all.