The Second Act - One Hell of a Roar

Profanity derives much of its power from the fact that it is unacceptable. This has been labeled the profanity paradox. The worse the word is thought to be, the more effective it is in getting someone’s attention and evoking an emotional response. Thus, when you want to get someone’s attention, profanity can be an effective tool. As a hobby, I occasionally write stories, scripts, and song lyrics. And sometimes, I include a bad word or two. But I use them carefully.

Each branch of the Armed Services has a song. It’s common, as an expression of respect in some vocal concerts, to sing a medley of those songs. Most are pretty straightforward and deal with things like dragging cannons, weighing anchors and being prepared. But then there’s that Air Force song. You know, “Off we go, into the wild blue yonder …”.

It’s not the part about zooming out of the sun, filling an enemy with lead or going down in flames that causes any consternation. It’s doing it with “one helluva roar.”

Yes, the question was raised. “Are we going to sing it as written or shall we sing ‘one heck of a roar’?”

I’ve become more sensitive to profanity since moving to Montana and becoming more involved in the performing arts. When I lived in New Jersey, profanity seemed to roll naturally off the tongue. So naturally, in fact, that it didn’t draw much attention. Montana is different. And performing for Montanans puts those differences center stage.

Should profanity be part of performance? In the case of theatrical works, the rules are pretty clear: Purge profanity at your peril. The authors of dramatic works generally feel that, when they use profanity, it is carefully calculated for effect and eliminating it will weaken their work. By virtue of a contract that is required to perform a work, the authors have the right, and often the willingness, to close down a production for such alterations in a script.

The case isn’t quite as clear for music. Although royalties are charged and paid for performance rights, there isn’t usually an explicit contract against altering the content. (I haven’t been challenged yet for turning popular songs into Christmas carols.) So what is the case for or against changing hell to heck?

There’s the musical case. K is linguistically a stop, which means it makes its sound by stopping the flow of air and also the tone of singing. It’s okay if it happens at the end of a phrase or at the boundary of a rest, but a little troublesome when it happens in the middle of a phrase (like one heckuva roar). L is not a stop. The sound and tone can continue through an L. (You can sing a sustained L, but not a K.)

Of course there’s a bigger issue if the substitution is optional, e.g., “Sing heck if you’re uncomfortable with hell.” This results in a random bit of percussion in the middle of an otherwise flowing phrase, probably not in keeping with the original musical intent. I sing and have sung with several groups in the Flathead Valley. And we generally follow certain tenets of good musical sound, like matching the shape of our vowels and all singing the same words. Helluva and heckuva do not match up well.

And there’s the issue of respect. The Armed Services medley is generally performed as an act of respect to the men and women serving in the services. Is it respectful to communicate that we have adjudged a service song inappropriate to sing as written?

It is virtually certain that I’ll never write anything as important or popular as a service song. If I did, I might think twice about including hell in it. But having chosen to sing it, I wouldn’t give hell a second thought. It’s part of the song, it’s part of the culture, and in my mind, it’s not an option.

But that’s just my opinion. I don’t mean to disrespect those who restrict their language and I don’t mean to disrespect the Air Force.

But if I’m going to sing the song, I’d prefer to do it with one helluva roar.

David Vale did not serve in the armed services, but he appreciates and respects those who do or did.