Dalbello

Under The Skin

“The mask was about hiding my old pop image, people’s conception of who I was. But, making up isn’t covering up. The mask reflects my soul. It identifies who I am. The question we ask continuously because the answer changes is Who am I?”

You may not have heard of Lisa Dal Bello, unless you’re Canadian. There, she was one of the huge, radio-centric pop stars of the late 70s and 80s. But to me, she is the third part of the troika of guiding muses to my mind (Laurie Anderson), my heart (Kate Bush), and, let’s call it my guts (Dalbello—using the name she had when I met her after the release of her violently primal, rhythmically visceral, and lyrically penetrating album, whomanforces). At first, I was drawn to the Papuan mask she wore on the cover. But soon, listening to the music, I saw that Dalbello’s sound and vision was exploring humanity beyond the borders of race, sex, age, etc.

“To be fully human requires an understanding between men and women of women and men. We are victims of conditioning, accepting identities without questioning them. We get forced into very rigid roles, without even being aware of it, and yet we find it impossible to live up to those archetypes. Then, why should we?”

At a time when there’s a lot of debate about marriage equality, about the roles of men and women, Dalbello’s music strips away the skin and reveals the masks underneath.

“A man went out to dinner with his wife and a gay guy and a lesbian couple. Sounds like the beginning of a joke. The married man stood by while everyone else got into intense conversations, a lot of emotional exchange. It’s not that he felt excluded, but he was in awe of the range of emotion. He was unable to communicate. It’s not that he didn’t want to. But, he didn’t have the means or experience or the language. His inner identity was in conflict with the outer identity imposed upon him.”

The mask doesn’t disguise, it reveals. Our skin is the disguise. In the Greek myth of Marsayas, a simple goatherd challenges the god of music, Apollo, to a battle of the bands. Marsayas toots his flute and Apollo strums his lyre. The gods sit tapping their feet and decide who is best. Surprisingly, they choose Marsayas. Less surprisingly, they reward him for his hubris by stringing him up by his heels and flaying him alive. If you want to walk with the gods (higher self), you got to lose your skin (ego).

“It’s all about breaking out, breaking free. We wear the mask to remind us that we’re human. Flesh and blood. And that is so much more than what it seems on the surface. We don’t need to be defined or generalized. It’s not what are you, it’s who are you.”

If we don’t know ourselves, how can we know anyone else?

“Love, for instance. You fall in love with someone because of some obvious charm, and then you find out what’s underneath, and it’s not there. There’s been an identity theft. Where is that person you thought you loved? How could you not have not seen that person? Can you even see yourself? You stand in front of a mirror and you reach to your reflection as your reflection reaches to you. You’re attached to yourself and yet you yearn to be free.”