Crystal Waters: Gypsy Woman And Prophet
-by Jeremy Gloff
-appeared on TheNewGay.net
-May 10th, 2010

Me and my friend Mandy in 1995.
Cystal Waters probably on the stereo.

The past two thousands years has seen many prophets. Nostradamus. Cassandra Of Troy. Miss Cleo. Jean Dixon. Recently I recalled a day in 1991 when I was certain Crystal Waters was the voice of the future.

I was sitting my friend’s living room. The omnipresent hum of MTV merely white noise in the background. My ears were attacked. “La da di la di da da la da di la di da da”. What was this noise?

I looked to the television. Who was this strange woman with the caramel complexion? She challenged the camera unruffled in her black suit coat. Her tight pony tail was sleek. The mantra continued to repeat. “La da di la di da da la da di la di da da.”

I turned to my friend Josh. I’d never heard a song like this before. House music. Glorious house music. This must be the sound of New York City. This must be the sound of the most cutting edge and forward thinking people in the world! This “la da di la di da da” at first disgusted me, then it baffled me, and then it intrigued me. Now it haunts me.

I went to the record store and bought Crystal Waters’ Surprise album. In my small middle of nowhere town I’d never heard music like this before.

By 1994 I realized I was gay. I rediscovered Crystal Waters on the dance floor. “100% Pure Love”. Waters had once again come up with a track that felt ten minutes ahead of itself. I stared at myself in the dancefloor mirror. From the back to the middle and around again.

My friend Mandy and I in 1995. Crystal Waters probably on my stereo.

As the 90s came to a close both house music and Crystal Waters lost their razor sharp edge. And the beat went on…

Three months ago I found out Crystal Waters was performing at a club a half hour from my apartment. It was rainy and cold. Until the last minute I could find no one to go with me.

I arrived at the club as her performance was starting. All of a sudden I was nineteen again. I began to cry. I looked around the room at other greying and aging gay men. I saw the same elation and melancholy in them that I was felt within myself. Nearly twenty years ago these songs had hailed the beginning of our gay lives. The “la Da Di La Di Da Da” mantra had evolved into a permanent snapshot of my confused, tragic, and glorious youth.

Crystal Waters turned out not to be the voice of the future. I didn’t end up living in New York. But I did almost piss my pants with excitement when she did the same dance on stage that she did in the video. I came to understand that night that the nineteen year old in us never truly dies. Sometimes we just need Crystal Waters to channel it.