Thirty years ago, in the late spring of 1988, Melissa Etheridge released her self-titled debut album. By now, Etheridge has become such a mainstay on the rock scene (albeit one who has arguably shifted to legacy status rather than necessary and immediate and vital continuing contributor) that it’s hard to convey how spectacularly unique her voice was at the time. During 1987 and 1988, thirty-seven different songs took a turn at the top of the Billboard mainstream rock chart. Exactly one of them — “My Baby,” by the Pretenders — put a woman at the lead microphone. In a era dominated by an increasingly troublesome MTV, rockers lacking a Y chromosome usually needed to aggressively play to the male gaze to get any amount of attention. Etheridge, for some reason, didn’t seem particularly interested in playing that game.

Instead, Melissa Etheridge was filled with tough-minded rock songs that the performer sang like she was trying to topple a cinder block wall. My radio options were limited just outside of a bustling college town with no student-run radio station on campus, but one commercial station did commit to Etheridge’s album early and lovingly, playing “Bring Me Some Water” with admirable regularity. I’m not even sure it was a proper single yet, but it was clearly a standout, slinking up to a chorus that explodes in bluesy heartbreak. The call for help in hydration wasn’t the only reason the track was ideal for a sweltering summer night. The song is fierce and freeing, expressing roiling emotions with a thrilling vulnerability that transforms into power.

Years later, when I had graduated from my own college radio experience and moved on to advising students taking their own turn on the airwaves, one of Etheridge’s early albums turned up in a culling of the station’s music library. The staff, then about a decade and a half removed from Etheridge’s debut, mocked the notion that the performer, already deep into her middlebrow icon phase, would ever have had a place on the left end of the dial. I assured the dear youngsters that there was a time that Etheridge’s songs hit like depth charges, and everyone listening felt like, in the best possible way, they were burning alive.

Listen or download —> Melissa Etheridge, “Bring Me Some Water”

(Disclaimer: Initially, I was certain that Etheridge’s debut was readily available in a physical format that could be procured from your favorite local, independently owned record store. After a cursory bout of research, I’m not so sure. Regardless, this song is shared in this space at this time not as a replacement for engaging in commerce that supports the artist and humble music peddlers, but as encouragement to do so. I can say with conviction that anything from at least the first half of Etheridge’s career is worth having in a collection. Anyway, go buy something. It’s good for your soul. Although I feel I’ve engaged in fair use here, I do know the rules. I will gladly and promptly remove this file from my little corner of the digital world if asked to do so by any individual or entity with due authority to make such a request.)