The best version of the “Star-Spangled Banner” ever written is a barbershop arrangement that can be performed by any capable quartet. I kid you not… you will hear the song as for the first time and you will have goosebumps.
And best of all, everyone can sing along. I take some issue with artists (the quotes are implied) who try to explore the limits of this simple melody like an excited puppy on an elastic leash. I often sing along when such artists perform the song. To the sideways perturbed glares I sometimes get, I reply, “I was just helping her out… apparently she forgot how the song went.”
This witticism (the quotes are implied) usually fares badly amongst the glarers and quite well with everyone else.
Even talented artists like Whitney Houston have to face the personalization issue. Singers are told to “make a song their own”. But this song belongs to every American, so I just can’t enjoy her rendition.
Sure, I can appreciate her technique and effort and talent and training, in the same approving way you might say to yourself, “Hey, this guy is GOOD!” while being beaten up by a really skilled karate expert.
But as far as I’m concerned, you don’t turn a Whitney Houston loose on an old British drinking tune for the same reasons you don’t drive an Indy racer to the grocery store– it’s inappropriate.
Forcing “God Bless America” on an unsuspecting ballpark crowd doesn’t work either, though. I’m getting to the point where I don’t care if I ever hear that song again. And anyway, what are the agnostics supposed to sing? “Unspecified diety bless America”? Doesn’t work, see, the fluglehorn is going to be in phased tempo with the contrabassoon on the semi-quavers.
I hate it when that happens.