Out on the wiley, windy moors...

Blowing strongly with a roaring sound.

That, gentle readers, is what "wuthering" means. "Wuthering" can also mean "characterized by such a sound" when referring to a place, such as, say, some heights somewhere. It a variant of whitherin, from whither blow, from Old Norse hvithra; related to hvitha squall of wind, Old English hweothu wind.

So, whither wuther? A strong, roaring blow.

As for wherefore wuther -- i.e., why are you telling us this, Suki? -- it's because I heard the Hayley Westenra cover of "Wuthering Heights." I was in B&N, not really paying attention to the piped-in music, and then while I was sitting in the reference section, that familiar, not-like-anything-else melody caught my attention. That's "Wuthering Heights," I think to myself... but that's not Kate. So up I got and went to the CD section and found out it was 16-year-old Hayley Westenra.

How could you leave me when I needed to possess you? I hated you; I loved you too.

Intrigued by the existence of such a cover, I took myself online to watch Hayley's video clip of the song on Top of the Pops... it's not bad, her dress looks like it cost more than Kate's entire budget for the original video, and she has a lovely soprano instrument. But I think part of what makes Wuthering Heights work is the eerie edge to Kate's (also teenaged at the time) voice, on both the high and low ends.

To put the record straight, I don't like any version other than the original -- not this one, not Pat Benatar's (although that was my introduction to it), not even Kate's re-recording for The Whole Story.

Anybody -- okay, not *anybody* -- can sing the notes, and get them exactly right... it's all about interpretation. And missing the sharpness, the desperation, the *wuthering*, if you will, of the song misses the point.

Oooh, let me have it, let me grab your soul away. You know it's me, Cathy...

Without the ghostly razor's edge of the country doctor's daughter's voice, it's a weirdly beautiful idea of a song, never quite realized. It's the wuthering what gives it its true height.

It's me, your Cathy, I've come home...

Posted on October 08, 2004 to horticulture

Previously: Meeting the Moon at the Door
Next Time: As somebody wise once said...
Main: cleaning out ferryboats