this woman’s work

I listened to Laurie Anderson for the first time in years about a month ago. I went and pulled out The Nerve Bible afterwards and decided to rent Home of the Brave and see what Noah thought of it.

The first time I heard Laurie Anderson I was babysitting at my regular job. They had cable and I was watching, I think, A&E (did they have A&E back then?) and they were showing a dance program. The song was “Blue Lagoon” (from Mister Heartbreak) and there were people walking holding another person above them; she was using the two dancers below as stilts.

I wrote down the name of the song in my journal and the next time I was at the library, I went and looked for her album.

I didn’t find that one but I did find Big Science. (There was a time when it was very cool to have part of “O Superman” set as your answering machine message. Remember?)

Anyway, that’s when I became a fan.

I’m writing this because I’m trying to think of what exactly Laurie Anderson meant to me. I can remember sitting in the library with the headphones on listening to that album and feeling amazed. Why was I amazed? I think it had something to do with how … foreign it sounded to me. It sounded like worlds-other-people-lived-in. Worlds where people were creative and thoughtful and smart. And this feeling was coupled with my fascination with the people-stilt-walkers and being alone late at night in the house where I babysat and where I was always lonely. And with the horrible adolescent feeling that your life hasn’t quite started yet but it’s almost just there almost ready for you if you could just reach out and touch it. (And of course Real Life was always somehow going to end up in New York City but when I finally got there for a visit I decided that NYC was way too dirty and crowded for me so real life would have to happen someplace else.)

I wanted to dress like Laurie Anderson. My penchant for “dead men’s coats” (old sports coats found at thrift shops) came from watching her. My favorite was a black one with thin blue stripes that still had tobacco in the right hand pocket. I liked that look of skinny legs and boxy shoulders, which she did so well. I liked her asexuality (so brave! I thought, because I desperately wanted boys to like me). I liked her spiky hair and big round eyes and dimples. I liked that she didn’t care if people thought that she danced funny and that she played electric violin, which no one even knew about until she did (neon bow and all). I liked her funny man voice and her pretty woman’s voice and her resonant speaking voice.

Later Brett and I got to go see her live (this is where we bought her Nerve Bible book). I can’t remember what tour — Puppet Motel, maybe? I think that was it. She was wonderful.

And here’s something weird and minor to tack on here. The two women who threw me my baby shower when I was pregnant with Noah lived out in the boonies in Vancouver, WA. In the backyard there was a metal sculpture of a horse. I said I liked it and Val said, “Oh, Laurie Anderson’s sister made that for me. We used to date.”

I still like her. I still like her boxy suits and funny dancing. She still inspires me.

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