The fat lady sings

Singer Beth Ditto of the pop-punk band the Gossip has defiantly flaunted her full figure in the press and onstage. (Simone Joyner/Getty Images)

On one hand, there’s nothing unusual about Beth Ditto appearing on the June 2 cover of British music magazine NME wearing nothing but a lipstick tattoo on her tush. Pin-up shots of female singers are a music-mag cliché — check out a soaking wet Beyoncé gracing Vibe, or Fergie in a bikini on Rolling Stone.

And Ditto, the Arkansas-bred, lesbian frontwoman of the pop-punk band the Gossip, is the current UK It Girl: NME named her the coolest person in rock ‘n’ roll and The Guardian publishes a weekly advice column entitled “What would Beth Ditto do.”

But what sets the cover shot apart from the usual fanboy-fare is that Ditto weighs 200 pounds and the photograph has her tummy rolls and back chub on glorious display (there’s even a peep of armpit hair).

Ditto has also posed nude for London’s Sunday Times and once refused to sing at the hip U.K. fashion chain Top Shop because the store doesn’t cater to women her size. Her fat pride is an inspiring counterpoint to the current troubles plaguing other full-figured singers.

In May, the usually sassy and sharp-tongued Lily Allen had a body image hissy on her MySpace page; she even threatened to undergo gastric bypass surgery. That was followed by a cover story in Entertainment Weekly in which Kelly Clarkson was asked about being compared with Mama Cass. Her weary reply: “I work out when I want to work out; I don’t work out when I don’t want to work out. After a long day and I’m tired, yeah, a cookie helps. It makes me feel good.”

Clarkson’s fellow American Idol alum Jordin Sparks has also been blasted for her size 12 figure. On Fox News, an anti-obesity zealot discouraged fans from supporting Sparks because she symbolizes “diabetes, heart disease, high cholesterol.”

This fuss over fat is nothing new. Women in the music industry have always had to conform to certain standards of beauty, whether it was Motown’s favouring of thinner, lighter-skinned singers who could crossover to a white audience, or the hoochie-fication of contemporary teen-queens (are you still feeling dirrty, Xtina?).

Yet there’s always been room for a few gifted female artists to cultivate an image that wasn’t strictly Barbie-meets-blow-up-doll. Look at singers such as Aretha Franklin, Nina Simone, k.d. lang, Missy Elliott, Patti LaBelle, Joni Mitchell, Patsy Cline, Annie Lennox, Lauryn Hill, Pink and Macy Gray. All of them are beautiful — but not in a supermodel way — and all have had singular music careers.

Recent American Idol winner Jordin Sparks has been castigated for her size-12 figure. (April L. Brown/Associated Press)

For African-American singers, in particular, a little bit of extra padding has been a symbol of that ineffable quality called “soul” — a coming together of the gospel roots of black music, the community’s traditional appreciation of curviness and a bone-deep experience of discrimination. Think Bessie Smith and Ma Rainey, Mahalia Jackson and Aretha Franklin. Soul is what Effie (Jennifer Hudson) had in the movie Dreamgirls and what Deena (a slimmed-down Beyoncé) didn’t.

These days, it’s a lot tougher for a plus-sized or plain Jane to get a record deal. Music videos, televised award shows, movie roles, clothing deals, fashion and cosmetics sponsorships have made the music industry much more focused on looks than in the past. Ergo the rise of dubious talents like Fergie or the Pussy Cat Dolls. When flawless cover girls like Beyoncé, Shakira and J.Lo stand out as being as the voluptuous exceptions to the whippet norm, it’s clear the beauty standard — and the music industry standard — has changed.

But what does this mean for the actual music? Good pipes don’t necessarily come with thin thighs or flawless skin. In fact, looking less than perfect can work in a singer’s favour. Ninety per cent of pop songs — whether they’re rock, R&B, soul or hip hop — are about one of two things: rebellion or heartbreak. And a singer’s authenticity relies on their ability to convey those themes.

You believe Aretha Franklin when she’s desperate, broken-hearted or amazed to have found a good man, because you hear it in her voice, and because she looks like a woman who knows what it’s like to be rejected and lonely. Sorrow, suffering, rage and despair don’t come airbrushed, toned or with hair extensions. It’s the female singers courageous enough to reveal their raw, unvarnished selves who have become icons. And it isn’t just about being heavy: skinny misfit-artist Patti Smith was a to-the-core rebel who looked every inch the part.

By comparison, check out some of today’s chart-toppers. Does anyone believe in Jessica Simpson’s pain? Or in Avril Lavigne’s rebellion? They aren’t singers: they’re clothes hangers who make pretty noises once in a while.

The real question is, do fans care as much about size as the music industry thinks they do? If American Idol is any indication, no. On this you-pick-the-star-of-tomorrow show, some of the most popular singers — LaKisha Jones, Kelly Clarkson, Kimberley Locke, Fantasia Barrino, Melinda Doolittle and Jordin Sparks — have been what my mom would politely call “big boned.”

America voted and it likes its Idols with a little junk in their trunk. Across the pond, the arbiters of hip at NME consider a chubby chick the coolest person around. That’s both progress and keeping faith with the past. There will always be prom queens like Carrie Underwood and Hilary Duff in heavy rotation. Here’s hoping there will always be space for the fat ladies to sing, too.

Rachel Giese writes about the arts for CBC.ca.

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