https://www.bbc.com/news/magazine-26769930
Ours is a fame-obsessed culture, writes Sarah Dunant, but is it really a goal worth chasing?
Years ago, when I was mildly famous for presenting a television arts programme, I was asked to do one of those instant magazine interviews, giving snappy answers to a mix of trivial and profound questions. I don't remember much of what I said. But one response sticks in my mind: In an alternative life what would I have been? My answer - a backing singer for Bob Dylan.
Like many dreams, it was a poignant one. Dylan usually only employs black singers and anyway I can't hold a note.
I was reminded of this last week when I watched 20 Feet From Stardom, the film that just scooped best documentary at the Oscars. As the title implies, it celebrates the men and women - but mostly women and nearly all black - whose voices and musical talent were a vital ingredient in the creation of the greatest popular music of the last half century, but who as backing singers were never the stars.
Some of the names you will know. Darlene Love was the voice for many of the Crystals hits. Judith Hill sang at Michael Jackson's funeral. Others will be familiar only to aficionados - Merry Clayton, Claudia Lennear, Lisa Fischer. But anyone who's seen the Rolling Stones play over the years will remember the vocal chemistry between Clayton, Lennear, Fischer and Mick Jagger - that shiver-down-the-spine sound of Gimme Shelter ("Rape, murder... its just a shot away").
Many of these women had voices as fine as any lead singer, and some went on to try solo careers. In most cases it didn't work. Not surprisingly given the moment, there were issues of gender and race. "Seems there was only room for one Aretha Franklin," says Love. Others accept that they didn't have the character to handle the pressure, the endless self-promotion: "If I'd been a star I wouldn't be here now talking to you."
But the viciousness of the business was not the only reason. As Lisa Fischer says, "some people will do anything to become famous. Others just want to sing."
The film will go down in the annals of music. But it's a comment on cultural history in another way. For many years now we have been living in the grip of a disease called Fame - the idea that whoever you are, whatever is, or is not, your talent, the greatest achievement in life you can aspire to is to become famous. A star. A celebrity. And that in our culture that is somehow not only desirable, but possible. Andy Warhol, with his 15 minutes of fame, has turned out to be a prophet as much as an artist.
Of course, the music business played its part here. Before the '60s, the main road to stardom was Hollywood and the movies - looks, talent, luck, (we could argue about the order). But while few were called, even fewer were chosen. With the new buying power of youth, and the explosion of rock'n'roll, all that changed - especially in Britain. If you were young, could afford a guitar and were happy to lock yourself in your room for years listening to records and practising, you could form a band and regardless of class, upbringing, education, you might find yourself en route not just to success, but superstardom.
Some managed it. The majority didn't. Now, however, it seems that for many of us only the spotlight will do. How did this happen? Well, the ingredients are fascinating. Over the years a growing economy and an aspirational culture has perfected ways of selling us things - both things we need and increasingly things we don't. The techniques differ from "Only this can make you attractive/happy" to "Because you're worth it, you deserve it". It was, in effect, a way of marketing dreams. And stardom - with its promise of wealth, attention and admiration - is surely the greatest dream of all.
As popular media expanded, what had once been limited to the few, suddenly seemed a possibility for the many. By the early '90s, the music business had taken to manufacturing as much as finding stars (and yes, I do think The Spice Girls were the beginning of the end here). Then television weighed in.
Trumpeted by its apologists as anti-elitist, reality TV hit the culture like a freight train. It coincided with deregulation, which brought more competition and many more hours to fill. Reality TV was cheap, populist and very soon everywhere. Where once, through the likes of game shows, a tiny fraction of people might have had their five minutes of attention, now - as long as you didn't mind your behaviour being edited to ratchet up the conflict (reality - never has a word been so misused) you might find yourself instantly famous - talked about at the watercooler and at the pub, your picture in the paper.
Big Brother - Orwell's vision of a future was a boot stamping on the human face forever. You can decide for yourself how far the TV show was aptly named. Then there were the talent shows - so you wanna be the next top model, singer, businessman, chef - whatever. The Faustian pact was largely the same - you want fame, we want ratings, which means larger-than-life characters, nasty judges, the adrenaline of competition, tantrums, tears and a dose of humiliation - all on camera. Those who made it, joined a growing community of sporting and entertainment figures whose public lives were becoming our off-screen soap operas.
Along the way some good programmes were made and some genuinely talented people discovered. But is there anybody out there who really believes that celebrity culture hasn't done more damage than good? That it hasn't made us a crueller, more voyeuristic, more self-obsessed society?
For the celebrities themselves, the oxygen of publicity - a necessity to stay in the public eye - comes at a price. Once in the news, they become the news, fodder for a growing freebee press. In lieu of a private life there's either Hello platitudes about a new house or a new relationship, or at the lower end, the cruelty of endless paparazzi shots and gossip - too fat, too thin, new breasts, exploding lips, trouble with sex, trouble with drugs, trouble with life. And when there are too many celebrities, we cull them by pitting them against each other, sending them into the jungle to eat worms. Proof, if ever it was needed, that they are a subspecies - like us, but not us. As captive animals in the media zoo, they are there for our entertainment, so we can enjoy their pain, as well as their triumph. Celebrity culture has made train-wreck watchers of us all.
Meanwhile, at the same time as we were all being sold dreams, we were also being deprived of the way to pay for them. It's telling that the beginnings of celebrity culture coincide with the period when real wages start to stagnate against the cost of living, and to make sure we still had money to keep on buying, we had to be sold something else. Credit. Or rather debt. From a new bedroom to shots of Botox - whatever you wanted but couldn't afford, you went into debt to get it. Back to that word "reality" and how little we seem to be in contact with it.
But it's not just about money. One of the most powerful things to come out of 20 Feet From Stardom is that there is more to life than being famous. Almost every one of these astonishing women says the same thing. In the end they did what they did, not because of any chance of stardom, but because they were born with a talent and a passion and it was the most exquisite pleasure - indeed almost a duty - to use it. To quote Lisa Fischer: "I love the reaction on people's faces - the artist and the audience. I'm there to bring joy to all of them. And that brings joy to me."
Her comment brings back my early teenage years - the hours spent ironing my hair, walking up and down the landing in bare feet, murdering Sandie Shaw tracks, while the boys stood strumming tennis rackets in front of wardrobe mirrors, the shaving mirror perched on the side to catch the TV close-ups. While it was fun being wannabes, most of us knew deep down that we didn't have what it took to make it. But, oh my God, it was just so wonderful to be part of the moment, the musical revolution around us. In the end being the fan or in the audience was more than enough.
In a world where everyone wants to be the lead singer, who is left to swell the sound? Or more importantly to appreciate it? I know you're expecting me to end with a Dylan quote. I leave you instead with a mangled and misquoted bit of John Milton: "They also serve who only stand and listen."
A Point of View is broadcast on Friday on Radio 4 at 20:50 GMT and repeated on Sunday at 08:50 GMT. Catch up on BBC iPlayer
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My comment:
I was wondering about this generally. Everyone can have felt there eyes burning by falling in love. Well if you do way to much yoga it activates spinal energy called kundalini and this is felt often and easily. I sort of got to like it and collected the cover pictures of beautiful actresses from our biweekly TV guides, to the chagrin of my wife, but jealousy, well this was not porn and any old starlet would do. I stopped doing that a while back. However I presume that if I can feel (and I presume give) lots of energy to this picture(as I clearly felt) then it is likely this was felt by the actress, in a telecommunications type effect. Considering the high it gives me to absorb such energy( from people, trees, etc) then I presume that having a large audience really jazzes you up. The articles states that not everyone was up to it. I was always suspicious about the inherited fame of multigenerational Hollywood stars. Considering this problem in dealing with disturbing energy absorption effects of fame, now, however I am changing my mind. Consider having a famous parent. They would have absorbed energy from adulation of millions and have passed on this energy, self certainty through their behaviour and more intense feelings, through their eyes, than an ordinary parent could have hoped to give. This in turn would have preconditionef the child to need just such energies, adulations of millions. Believe me, once used to massive surges of kundalini energy, I always need and want more as my nervous system gets conditioned. However unlike with esoteric spirituality, focused on God, fame energy is fickle and the crowd has lower basic instincts which need satisfying, thereby lowering our behaviors, not improving them. We become a slave of the crowd's worst instincts if we do not follow a higher star. This is a hard balancing act. To find love, friendship in such a situation is critical but I would guess that famous friends or lovers would better understand the feeling of fame and be able to reciprocate these energies at the heart level, having been so pumped up themselves by the crowd passions. This limits one. After some time of course every famous person must give way to new blood, having passed their peak. They then feel a certain emptiness as they do not appear in the public eye and the mental/emotional energies of the masses are turned elsewhere. Many then tour endlessly or become nostalgic. Like old athletes, most accept this as natural. I of course am an average guy, doing janitorial, unknown and even in love and romantic matters a very late starter so that I always look for growth and change opportunities, regardless of age(55) to make up consciously for all that lost youth where others partied, had fun, but I was lonely. The natural age progression development in yoga is as expected childhood, young adulthood, marriage and family and in retirement a withdrawal into self and search for inner peace. Of course starting yoga in 50s, 60s isn't giving much time. Obviously like with any pursuit it takes decades of dedication to get really good and the suspicion is that lots of previous lives gave us a head start on whatever talents we have developed. To get back to the original topic of course, energy absorption and fame, obviously a famous person has several possibilities for energy growth,i.e. more fame, bought perhaps at high personal expense; deep satisfying personal relationships of whichever sort(lovers, children, friends, pets) and eventually many get into spirituality of some sort or take to nature. All of these alternatives to career stress are good and actually satisfying for everyone regardless. At a certain age one needs ambition to feel fulfilled. Family breaks are also necessary to fill the heart, retank, readjjust. How can an actor/ actress or singer relate to a more mature audience when he/she is older if he/she has never experienced heartbreak, childcare, etc? Creative work needs a source of knowledge. I recall the marriage counseling priest my folks went to way back when. I guess he had lots of general knowledge but generally sexual relationship experiences are not high up there on the list. How did he do that? Writers, dancers, any creatives need constant inspiration. I mentioned in a recent post how my energy was recently surging through my limbs and I am much more agile, controlled, self confident. This has built up over years through yoga, other's energies and now meditation. Presumably if I were also famous then I would automatically be able to tap into a deep pool of public energies and also reciprocate them, guiding and helping others. It would likely also be easier to feel a famous person' s energies if it were directed laserlike to you than another person's energies, much weaker. Handling such energies of course would require lots of training to be at a similar energetic level. So famous people sometimes go to gurus, like the Beatles. This reflects a deeper public need behind the adulation, which is a search for deeper meaning and purpose in life, or worship, which a star in the end cannot fulfill with their narrow personality.
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