Mama's Eyes: 5 Songs on Motherhood
This week's songs are from Cleo Sol, the Shirelles, Lucero, Lightnin' Hopkins, and Brandi Carlile
Mothers are so foundational to the human experience that even Ozzy Osbourne and Glenn Danzig—‘The Prince of Darkness’ and ‘The Devil’s Child’, respectively—have iconic songs about them. Ditto 2pac and Ghostface Killa.
The Beatles quite famously have a number of songs about their mothers (or yours). As John and Paul both lost their mothers at a young age, their respective tribute songs make for an interesting contrast in their personalities, self-expression, and musical instincts. Paul shares a bit of his mother’s wisdom; John conjures her presence, and cries out for her, a bit resentfully.
The use of “mama” or “momma” in song lyrics, however, can get complicated rather quickly. While blues and folk musicians often referred to women in general as “mama,” in songs. Rock musicians soon picked up on the colloquialism. Have a look at Bob Dylan’s “Mama You’ve Been on My Mind,” or The Band’s “Rag Mama Rag,” or the ubiquitous “Wagon Wheel” (which lifted its chorus from Dylan’s “Rock Me Mama”) as a few early examples. In a perfect example of his absurd humor, Frank Zappa & the Mothers of Invention exploited this double entendre for cringeworthy laughs in “Motherly Love.” A number of songs by Justin Townes Earle use “Mama” as a stand-in for whatever romantic partner he’s singing about (or at). The son of a famous father, Earle spoke often, and quite vocally, about his dad’s absenteeism. He went on to release the companion albums Single Mothers and Absent Fathers. But prior to that, he would make clear that anything of virtue within him came from his mother in “Mama’s Eyes”:
I've got my mama's eyes
Her long, thin frame and her smile
And I still see wrong from right
'Cause I've got my mama's eyes
A child followed in his father’s footsteps, walked in his shadow, and publicly carved an identity out from, but directly tied to his dad. And yet, he was defiant that his mother made him who he was.
Mothers are superheroes.
Here are 5 songs on the many sides of motherhood.
“pretty enough that if she forgot her wallet at a checkout counter she could pay off her tab with her looks, that’s my momma” - Lil Yachty, ‘Momma’
The Shirelles - “Mama Said”
One might assume that, as a girl group in the 1960s, the Shirelles were a label creation, but they actually got their start the old-fashioned way: paying dues playing their high school dances. A fellow student referred them to their mother, who was in the music business. In addition to setting the model for other “girl groups” to follow, they paved the way for other women in music, getting their first #1 with Carole King (and Gerry Goffin’s) “Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow.”
The propulsive shuffle of the drums and ooh-aah harmonies in “Mama Said” are the template the Beatles would use to upend the music industry. Among the British Invasion that pushed acts like the Shirelles out of the limelight was Van Morrison. In the 1980s, he used a version of the refrain—“My mama said there’d be days like this”— for his “Days Like This.” In the 1990s Lenny Kravitz’ would also use the “Mama Said” refrain in his “Always on the Run.” The Shirelles “Mama Said” has a youthful innocence, where the mother’s advice is of comfort in navigating early romance. Kravitz shares his mother’s advice as something that prepared him to face the obstacles and hardship that life has to offer. Van Morrison’s is more resignation and a reminder to accept the ups-and-downs of life. Altogether, no matter the lifestage, one can reflect back on the advice and wisdom a mother offers from an early age.
“I asked a friend of mine, a young mother of two kids, how the music makes her feel. She said it’s ‘like the one deep breath you’re able to catch throughout the day – or a reminder of the silver lining that lights the darkest parts of our psyche, and an affirmation of the soft landing that follows.’ It’s not always clear whether Sol’s consolations are directed at herself, the flickering mirage of a parent, or if the listener has instinctively syphoned them, by way of headphones, to fund their own personal healing. But, as they say, if the glass slipper fits...” - Connor Garel
Cleo Sol - “One Day”
With her partner Inflo, Cleo Sol is a member of the R&B collective Sault. 2021’s Motherhood was her second solo release. Since Sault rarely performs live and Cleo Sol almost never gives interviews, the album’s theme—along with its cover art, which shows Sol in sweats, sprawled on a couch with her baby on her chest (peak new parent!)—feels all the more intimate and personally revealing by an order of magnitude. Further, Sault shape-shifts into various genres with each album, but there is no guise or persona at work on Motherhood. Sol’s voice in particular sounds fully at ease. It’s light-touch soul and R&B is grounded and comfortable. It’s emotional, but Sol is not one to belt out ballads like Adel. It’s easygoing. She sings as if she doesn’t want to wake the baby—or more so, as if she’s singing directly to one. The piano and soft, steady percussion across Motherhood offers an extra layer of warmth and comfort (see also: “Promises”).
In “One Day,” Sol sings to her child with a clear-eyed long-term perspective. There is a child who’s just started to live their life, but one day will be separating. The first half of the song serves as a plea for when that separation happens:
One day, you'll be older
One day, you'll be smarter
When the rain washes away the pain
Just love me the same
Sol’s crystal-clear voice is often compared to Sade. Sade’s own “By Your Side” is often interpreted as a mother-child devotional. Both songs are calm in expressing their unconditional love (and physical proximity), but while Sade insists on staying there forever, Sol offers a more realistic perspective—one where distance doesn’t diminish the love between them.
“My mother worked fifteen hours five days a week
My mother worked sixteen hours six days a week
My mother worked seventeen hours seven days a week” - Idles, ‘Mother’
Lightnin’ Hopkins - “Mama Blues”
Lightnin’ Hopkins does a little trick with his harmonica to make it sound like a baby crying for his mother. It’s a little bit of gimmicky fun before he dives into “Mama Blues,” where a child is asking his mother for a drink of water, then the request turns to whiskey. But Hopkins plays the request out, ending with a general expression of gratitude:
Mama, thank you for every little thing you did.
Other showmen musicians would pull the same trick. Flat & Scruggs have their own version of “Mama Blues” that’s a bit more innocent—Flatt makes sure Scruggs’ banjo is well mannered. But in the recording you can see how the talking instrument bit plays with a crowd. Doc Watson would also record a version of the Flat & Scruggs version. In a funny bit of irony, the talking instrument bit endures, only instead of using the child talking to the mother, we know it as the voice of any adult in the Peanuts cartoons—a device recommended by Vince Guaraldi.
“At the thought of this freedom, (she) stood and whispered to her child, ‘Belong.’ She held the child and whispered with calm, calm, ‘Belong.’” - R.E.M., ‘Belong’
Brandi Carlile - “Mama Werewolf”
There’s a bit of a double standard when it comes to parents—men are granted a lot of leeway when it comes to being distant, or complicated. Dads get space to blow off steam, or relax after finishing the visible work. If a mother to be depicted (or depict themselves) as imperfect, or angry, or—let’s face it, anything negative, their qualifications as a parent would be called into question. Aside from a great melody and some damn fine writing, that’s what makes “Mama Werewolf” so compelling. Carlile weaves in the taxing road-life of a touring musician, generational trauma, mental health, and dysfunctional families into werewolf mythology to put into song a message that’s basically, “Hey kid-I’m not just imperfect, I’m a bit of a mess. And, I need your help and understanding to end the cycle.” The kid’s probably stuck on the werewolf part. But we get it.
If my good intentions go running wild
If I cause you pain, my own sweet child
Won't you promise me you'll be the one
My silver bullet in the gun
It’s a rare claim of ownership—I am imperfect, maybe a bit volatile, but still loving and loved—especially for a woman. Another side of that coin is what the child of a parent with mental illness might think. Carlile shares a bit of musical DNA with Lucinda Williams (“File Under: Rock”), whose mother and brother struggled with mental illness. 2007’s West (which in my opinion is her best work), is mostly about the passing of her mother. While there are songs that sit in sadness or resentment, “Mama You Sweet” encapsulates the full range of emotions that come with a complicated relationship. Where “Mama Werewolf” focuses on a single metaphor, Williams grabs onto the many properties of fluid—a torrent ocean, pressing tears, sweat, blood—which ebb and flow with persistence. Despite the turbulence and swirling emotions, Williams ends up exactly where she started: “I love you mama, you sweet.” She’s the silver bullet.
“Doin' life without parole
No one could steer me right
But mama tried, mama tried,
Mama tried to raise me better
But her pleadin' I denied,
That leaves only me to blame 'cause mama tried”
- Merle Haggard, ‘Mama Tried’
Lucero - “Mom”
If you’ve ever asked yourself “What if Kurt Cobain grew up on Hank Williams instead of the Pixies?” the answer would sound a lot like Lucero. Hailing from Memphis, Tennessee the band sits at the cross streets of southern soul, country, and pack-a-day rock and roll. Front man Ben Nichols is the brother of the outstanding filmmaker Jeff Nichols. Both men’s work is deeply rooted in the American South, and the mythic, but not the mythic south (if that makes sense). Their concerns are real people, loyalty, and family above all else. With an electric guitar, a plaintive accordion, and a lap steel Nichols sings this one for his mom. Consider it the reply from the child Cleo Sol was singing too—this kid and his siblings got the message and took it to heart.
Further down the Mississippi River, New Orleans’ Irma Thomas offered a similar tribute to her mother, reinterpreting Van Morrison’s “Crazy Love” as a tribute to her mother. Where Lucero’s “Mom” is a heart-on-the-sleeve tribute, it puts the struggles and challenges she’s had and they’ve had right in the forefront. Thomas’ mother, on the other hand, is all-forgiving, always present, and never in doubt. It’s so pure, Thomas thinks it’s crazy. Some may relate to one type more than the other, but the appreciation they have for their mothers is obvious in both.
Home, it might scatter and fade
With time all things must change
The road it might take its own course
But I intend, mama, we're still your boys
Wherever you are, don’t forget to call your mom.
Thanks for reading. Enjoy listening.
Full playlists of songs featured in 5 Songs: