Not that Ronstadt didn’t improve over the years. As she matured she gained even more of the confidence and swagger that had set her apart from the first. Who could forget the boldly sensuous tongue-lashing she gave us in “You’re No Good,” or the toughly erotic gender ambiguity of “Willing?” She added the flavor of subtlety to her amazing vocalizations, and became a woman.
And yet...
It was good to go back in time and encounter the young Linda, of the huge dark eyes, dark hair, wispy tease of a smile and the Hot Damn I’m Good attitude. That was the girl you wanted to take home to mother, but didn’t dare. You knew Mom was going to swear the little charmer wasn’t a day over fifteen--wild, dangerous, sheer jailbait. She was the girl you were scared to ask out, for fear she might say yes, and then what would you do besides swallow your Adam’s Apple? But you knew other pretty girls. Maybe not THAT pretty, but...and you knew other girls with talent. But you sure as hell didn’t know anybody that could stun you right out of your shoes with both looks AND talent. She had both. At the same time.
The first time I saw her was when she made a TV appearance on “The Johnny Cash Show.” She came out and sang “Silver Threads and Golden Needles” and knocked me into another dimension. I felt like the disc jockey who just finished hearing his first Elvis. “That,” he said. “will flat git it.”
Those two albums got it splendidly. There was scarcely a weak song on either disc, and even those were plenty good enough to write home about. The hard part was figuring out which one you liked best. She could take an old Hank Williams song, “Lovesick Blues,” which everyone in the music business has recorded, and turn it upside down and wrong side out, making it sound new and better. Or Out-Cline Patsy on “I Fall to Pieces.” Or make Ray Price wish he’d gone into another line of work on “Crazy Arms.” But then there was the surreal vibes of “He Darked the Sun,” and the thumping Waylon Jennings beat of “The Only Mama That’ll Walk the Line.” But if I had to pick a favorite it would be “I’ll Be Your Baby Tonight,” an invitation to lusty loving done with enough throaty come-hither sexiness to make the average good old boy run backward and slap his grandma down. “Shut the light, shut the shade/You don’t have to be afraid...” No? Then why am I so weak-kneed? “Kick you shoes off and have no fear/Bring that bottle over here...” OK, but let me knock back a chug or two first. Listening to Ms. R.on that song makes you feel in the pit of your stomach just what it was like being young and full of life, the sheer thrill of being drunk and bawdy and in love. Those tracks she laid down are still as fresh as the scent of honeysuckle on a summer’s day, or the gut-tightening waft of a young girl’s perfume. The album is called “The Best of Linda,” and her best is very good indeed.
