The grotesque, demonic audacity of Whitney Houston

Alternative Right has been posting some of their old material into my Facebook timeline–which is certainly an improvement on the Canadian-election besotted cat ladies (of both sexes) who are currently cluttering it up.

This morning, it was a 2012 article by Andy Nowicki on … Whitney Houston, of all things. I never paid much attention to Houston when she was walking the earth, so I can’t say I’m a fan, but this is very good: They Can’t Take Away My Dignity.

An excerpt:

But finally, we arrive at the most appalling of destinations in this musical triptych—on the infernal shore that yawns before the harsh, hell-blasted realm that is The Greatest Love of All.

Let us pause, with a shudder, to consider the grotesque, demonic audacity of the song’s very title. Without a trace of irony, it takes the beautiful poetry of St. Paul (“the greatest of these is love”), and shamelessly inverts its underpinning ethos. For the “greatest” love, in the song’s twisted perspective, isn’t love of others (charitos) or love of God (agape), but love of self. “Greatest” is hardly the first song to glorify narcissism; indeed, modern pop stardom is all about saying “Worship me, ye lowly minions!” But it’s usually done with a sort of flair, and a healthy sense of humor. Think of Whitney’s own ’80s contemporary Madonna and her cheeky Material Girl persona. Or consider Johnny Rotten’s snarling declaration: “I’ve got no feelings for anybody else, except for myself, my beautiful self!”

Worth a read.

The grotesque, demonic audacity of Whitney Houston

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