Whitney Houston

As any other self-respecting Child Of the Eighties, I grew up playing the crap out of my Whitney Houston cassette tape, lip-syncing along and wishing I could be as incredible as she was. My middle school self in the early 90s loved "The Bodyguard" and longed to slow-dance to "I Will Always Love You" at school dances. How romantic!

The news of Houston's death last night made me sad--while I had heard of her personal struggles in recent years, and hadn't listened to some of that magical music she put out in the 80s and 90s in a long time, it was the passing of another icon of my childhood that got me feeling nostalgic and firing up good ole YouTube.

You can't read the coverage of her passing without coming across inevitable mentions of the time she sang the National Anthem at the Super Bowl. I gave it a listen last night, and here's the thing:

I am notoriously rough on female singers, especially female singers performing "The Star-Spangled Banner." Kelly Clarkson at this year's Super Bowl? Meh. Christina Aguilera last year? Oh, puh-lease. She forgot the words! These are not legends, these are little girls playing at being singers. But Whitney? She nailed it, and even though I don't love a slow-tempo anthem, and I normally scoff at singers who do the show-off jump-up-the-fourth on "free," I really can't fault Whitney's anthem from 1991...it was spectacular, powerful, and I couldn't pull that off, even though I am a fair singer myself. I only wish our current crop of diva-wannabes could learn something from it.

Rest in peace, Ms. Houston. I am sorry you struggled in these later years. Something tells me the choir in heaven is sounding really good this morning.