I learned of the passing of the singer Melanie Safka from my sister via text. It was after a long day in the emergency room with my husband. He was admitted and I came home and put on my vinyl of her album “Gather Me.”
In the winter months of 1972, when I was a junior in high school, Melanie was a constant voice for me, along with Joni Mitchell. At the time, they were the same in stature for me—women singing their truth in their own unique voice. Young women who followed my generation did not know how revolutionary this was. But I knew, coming from a time when most songs by women were just about how they saw themselves through the male gaze. Joni, Melanie, and others broke that apart, giving voice to feelings we didn’t know how to express. Joni and Carole King and Carly Simon went on to continued fame and undying respect, where Melanie fell into the background.
But for 16-year-old me, she gave me something undefinable, something different than the others. My hair was like hers, so I think physically I matched her.
I hadn’t listened to Melanie in decades when I pulled out the vinyl a year or two ago and discovered I still remember every word. The album is full of static because I had such a crappy record player at the time. But I don’t care. It’s Melanie.
So rest well, sweet angel. You made a difference to this girl.
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| I purchased this at JC Penney on February 12, 1972 |
Words inside the album, the poem that inspired the title “Gather Me.”
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