On Ronnie Spector
Yesterday, we lost an absolute giant in the pop music scene. For the young ones out there, Ronnie Spector (née Bennett)—with legendary girl group, the Ronettes—heralded in a new era of pop music with her flashy, hip outfits (think: sparkles, beehive hair-dos, heavy mascara, etc.), electric stage presence, and rock-and-roll voice. Capturing a new audience of young listeners starting in 1963 with their hit “Be My Baby,” Ronnie Spector changed what it meant to be a female pop star, and served as a prototype of female music stars later to come—e.g. Amy Winehouse—and even providing immense artistic inspiration to several male-led rock and punk bands (Ramones, Beach Boys, New York Dolls, etc.). With such a grand influence on music to come, it is no question that Ronnie is one of the greatest to ever do it.
Of course, this would not have been done without Phil Spector, her late ex-husband, convicted murder, and absolute legend in music production, who passed away nearly a year ago. Phil Spector was an incredibly abusive and strange person, but I don’t want to dwell too much on him here (I actually happen to share a birthday with Phil…and Mao Zedong…I am not in great company…). But, prior to the Ronettes’ introduction to Spector in 1963, he was definitely an up-and-coming figure in the pop music scene. However, the Ronettes allowed him to come to the forefront and earn that legendary status. He could not have done it without them. The Ronettes basically are the reason that Spector’s signature “Wall of Sound” production style is still discussed and exemplified in popular music today (even if it is presented quite a bit differently).
I mean, where would pop music be today without its maximalist instrumentation and vocals? Its larger-than-life divas? Or its unconditional catchiness that never seems to escape your mind? Before Ronnie and the Wall of Sound, there were plenty of pop musicians, but rarely pop stars with the whole package—the voice, the flair, the style, and the drama. She really did revolutionize how we observe and think about pop music, even if it is difficult to understand these days due to its normalization (as everyone has emulated her mode of artistry—whether they know it or not). She left an un-erasable mark on the industry, and it will likely never leave.
Ronnie, after leaving Phil in 1972, was able to continue her career’s success as a solo artist and her legacy in the music space, even appearing in then-new artists works in the 1980s and beyond. Outside of music, she published a memoir on her time with the Ronettes and Phil in the 60s and early 70s, and as with every other music great these days, her upcoming biopic—starring Zendaya (who Ronnie “hand-picked”)—is set to hit the theaters hopefully somewhat soon. Although I can be a bit of a critic of music biopics, I am hoping that it will show Ronnie to a new generation of listeners. Regardless, the legend still rings to this day.
With such a devastating loss in music, we still have the opportunity to reflect on her work, her group’s work, and even any pop music that came after (as the influence is there, even if tangentially) thanks to modern streaming platforms and the widespread renewed-interest classic modes of music-listening. Her timelessness and effect will remain in many shapes and forms.
Finally, from me, thank you Ronnie for your gift, and for starting a new tradition for listeners from all around. Thank you for the joy and delight that your craft has brought me and many others.
