The Greatest Oldies Music

Oldies Musics

Suzi Quatro – Singing With Angels

Suzi Quatro ~ Singing With Angels ~ Baz ~ Elvis Tribute Song. - YouTube

About the Song

Suzi Quatro – Singing With Angels is a soulful and introspective track that marks a reflective moment in the career of this iconic rock musician. Known for her pioneering presence in the 1970s rock scene, Suzi Quatro has always had a knack for blending tough, rebellious energy with a deep emotional core, and “Singing With Angels” is no exception. Released in the later stages of her career, this song offers listeners a glimpse into a more vulnerable side of Quatro, one that contrasts with her usual bold, high-energy persona.

The track itself has a dreamy, ethereal quality, with lush instrumentation that creates a sense of calm and serenity. Quatro’s vocals are raw and evocative, carrying a sense of longing as she sings about the idea of connecting with something greater than herself, a theme that’s deeply spiritual and reflective. The metaphor of “singing with angels” suggests a desire for peace and transcendence, an escape from the turbulence of life into a place of solace and purity.

The instrumentation in “Singing With Angels” is rich and layered, with soft, sweeping melodies that complement Quatro’s powerful voice, enhancing the song’s emotional impact. The arrangement is subtly complex, building gradually to evoke the sense of a spiritual journey or personal revelation. It’s a song that captures the complexity of human emotion—the desire for something more, the yearning for connection, and the hope for peace.

What makes this song stand out in Suzi Quatro’s discography is the vulnerability it shows, as it departs from her usual hard-edged rock sound. Instead, it embraces a softer, more reflective tone, demonstrating her versatility as an artist. “Singing With Angels” is a beautiful reminder that beneath her tough exterior, Quatro is a gifted storyteller capable of conveying deep emotional truth. It’s a song that will resonate with anyone who has ever sought comfort or a sense of higher meaning amidst life’s struggles.Singing With Angels - song and lyrics by Suzi Quatro | Spotify

Video 

Lyrics: Singing With Angels

I heard your voice late last night
I heard you say are you lonesome tonight
I saw you crying in the chapel light
Love me tender and treat me nice

Lonely boy got the G.I. Blues
That’s allright mama’s watching over you
Wise men say if you don’t be cruel
You’ll get to heaven wearing blue suede shoes

[Chorus]
Singing with angels, safe in God’s promised land
Singing with angels, walking hand in hand
Singing with angels, it’s part of God’s master plan
There’s so many angels walking hand in hand
What a beautiful land

I got a woman she’s my happiness
Don’t leave me now in my loneliness
Heartbreak hotel I was counting on you
Thought I had a lot of living to do

The blue moon of Kentucky shines
Burning love makes suspicious minds
Mystery train heading for the light
Gracelands star burning bright

[Chorus]

[repeat x3]

Elvis has left the building

Related Post

Nothing about the ticket said farewell. On June 19, 1977, thousands entered Omaha’s Civic Auditorium expecting what they had come for many times before: Elvis Presley onstage. There was another concert ahead, another city, another tour date. Nobody in that audience had been told they were watching a man with less than two months left to live.

Some of the saddest photographs of Elvis Presley are not the ones in which he looks tired. They are the ones in which he is smiling. By then, he had everything his younger self could once have dreamed about: money, Graceland, worldwide fame and audiences that still screamed his name. Yet success had never taught him how to replace the people and pieces of life he had lost along the way.

Some Elvis stories are remembered because they happened beneath enormous stage lights. Others survive because they supposedly happened when almost nobody was watching. One such story tells of Elvis noticing an elderly woman struggling with groceries and stopping to help her. For a man accustomed to people noticing him, the striking detail is that he noticed someone else first.

You Missed

Country

FRED FOSTER WARNED DOLLY PARTON THAT GETTING MARRIED WOULD DESTROY HER CAREER, BUT SHE CHOSE A WHITE CHEVY OVER THE BUSINESS SUITS OF NASHVILLE. Fred Foster was a man who understood the machinery of country music better than almost anyone, and he knew exactly what he wanted for his star investment. He told Dolly Parton that a wedding ring would kill her appeal before it even truly began, urging her to wait at least a year. He saw her as a product to be polished, a rising brand that required the appearance of total availability to climb the charts. To Foster, the industry was a ladder, and he believed a husband was nothing more than an anchor that would drag her back down to the red clay. Dolly heard the corporate advice, nodded, and then headed straight for the state line. On a May morning in 1966, she and Carl Dean slipped away to Ringgold, Georgia, accompanied only by her mother. They ducked into a small Baptist church to trade vows, effectively choosing their own life over the carefully orchestrated image Monument Records had mapped out for her. It was a private rebellion that happened far from the neon glare of Music Row. While Dolly ascended to global fame, Carl stayed in the shadows of his asphalt business, stepping away from the spotlight he never asked for. He became the silence behind her roar, the man waiting in an RV, not a dressing room. When the heavy curtains closed and the stadium lights dimmed, she returned to the only world that actually mattered.

Country

While the world obsessed over the wigs, the rhinestone suits, and the global machinery of Dolly Parton, Carl Dean stayed behind in a quiet patch of Tennessee asphalt. He never walked a red carpet, never sat in the front row of the Opry, and never traded his steady work as a paving contractor for the glare of the flashbulbs. He was a man who understood the fundamental weight of a promise made at a Nashville laundromat in 1964, long before the industry tried to turn his wife into a commodity. For fifty years, the tabloids hunted for a crack in the foundation, convinced that her lifelong, inseparable bond with Judy Ogle was something nefarious. They waited for Carl to perform the role of the threatened husband, demanding he force a wedge between the two women who had been friends since they were eight. They wanted a scandal to sell papers, but Carl gave them nothing but a shrug and a warm pot of coffee. He saw no threat in a friendship that predated his own presence in her life. He understood the difference between ownership and partnership. While the cameras turned their lenses toward the manufactured mysteries of their marriage, he remained unmoved, shielding the sanctity of their home from the noise. He was satisfied with the reality of a quiet life that existed entirely apart from the lights of the stage, content to let the world have the icon while he kept the woman.

Country

JIM REEVES DIED IN A PLANE CRASH IN 1964, YET HIS VOICE RULED THE COUNTRY CHARTS FOR TWO DECADES AFTER HE WAS GONE. The silence that followed the wreckage near Nashville was supposed to be final. Mary Reeves, his wife of nearly twenty years, stood amidst the ruins of a life built on touring and radio airplay, left holding nothing but master tapes and half-finished ideas. While most widows would have shuttered the studio doors, Mary chose to treat the vault not as a graveyard, but as an extension of the man himself. She stepped into the producer’s chair, working with engineers to layer modern orchestration over vintage vocals, refusing to let the career end just because the artist had. By 1966, ‘Distant Drums’ topped the charts, sounding as fresh as any current hit on the radio. As the years turned into decades, Mary maintained a rigorous schedule of releases, eventually even pairing Jim’s voice with Patsy Cline’s for a duet that sounded as if they were standing in the same room. Fans didn’t hear ghosts; they heard the smooth, steady baritone that had become the heartbeat of their living rooms. She managed the museum, organized the archives, and navigated the delicate line between honoring a husband and curating an immortal brand. When she finally stepped back, she left behind a legacy that defied time itself. The man was buried in Nashville, but the singer simply never stopped working.

Country

“I CAN’T JUST LEAVE HER WITHOUT TELLING HER HOW IT IS,” RAY PRICE WHISPERED TO HIS ENGINEER IN THE STUDIO DARKNESS. He didn’t care about the chart positions or the industry accolades that had defined his career since the fifties. He needed the technology to capture a sincerity he had spent decades hiding behind the polish of the Ray Price Sound, ensuring the silence of his house wouldn’t be absolute. Ray Price and Janie Phillips shared a life defined by the rhythmic hum of the honky-tonk circuit and the quiet machinery of the music business. By 2012, however, the terminal weight of pancreatic cancer began to dictate the pace of their days. While the chemotherapy drained the vitality from his frame, Ray insisted on returning to the microphone. He chose a collection of love songs that felt like a long-overdue confession, building them out in a Nashville studio while keeping the project shielded from the one person who had been his professional and personal anchor for decades. Janie was kept at a distance, unaware that the distance was intentional. Ray was crafting a final, hidden correspondence. Each session at the microphone required a monumental effort, a man straining against his own biology to ensure the pitch remained true and the phrasing stayed sharp. He finished the work in October 2013, exhausted but satisfied, calling the record the finest thing he had ever managed to capture. He died in December, before the world ever heard a note. When the record eventually surfaced, Janie found herself standing in the spotlight she had spent forty-three years avoiding. She stepped into the radio stations and the silence of their home, carrying the voice of a man who had finally learned how to say what mattered most once he was no longer there to speak it himself.