The Voice at 60: On Whitney Houston's immortal instrument

There's a moment during VH1 Honors in 1995 when Whitney Houston is performing "This Day" and her voice is dancing among the angels and, as if grazed by their wings, she shivers.

"Sometime the church get up in ya and I can't help myself, you know," she tells the cheering crowd, who no doubt felt what she felt — that feeling only a few singers can accomplish, and which Whitney Elizabeth Houston accomplished more often and more spectacularly than nearly anyone: That slight tingle of the divine running down your spine, synapses firing, endorphins released, a visceral kind of joy.

Houston would have been 60 years old today, Aug. 9. Of course, she's no longer with us and while I, and many others, feel her absence everyday, her voice — that magnificent voice — still elicits joy.

The story goes, Whitney, as a baby, was playing with a hanger on her tongue when her brother gestured wildly and the hanger went back in her mouth. She ripped the hanger out, narrowly missing her vocal cords.

A simple twist of fate could've deprived the world of Houston's gift but instead the world got to see that gift blossom. What was so great about Houston's voice? She had "the perfect vibrato" and an "incomparable timbre"; her voice was at times operatic, incredibly emotive, it was strong and full and powerful; she had nearly superhuman vocal stamina, she had the musicianship (thanks to mother CeCe Houston) to back it all up. And, at her peak, she made it look so effortless.

"Houston seemingly had no natural break between the high and low registers of her instrument," University of Pennsylvania music professor Guthrie P. Ramsey Jr. wrote for CNN in 2012, on the occasion of Houston's tragic death at age 48. "This unique quality was highlighted because when she did flip into the 'head voice,' it was employed as a subtle garnish, a precious design element in a phrase."

"And when she sang live, she was – unlike many others – able to replicate or surpass the same tone, power and range she displayed on record on stage as well," the blog The Song Inside the Tune wrote a year later.

In other words, not only did Whitney Houston have the range, she was the range. She was and is the yardstick by which every other singer will ever be judged. And while her music on record is timeless, it's those live performances that truly illuminate Houston's legacy as The Voice.

The biopic Whitney Houston: I Wanna Dance with Somebody chooses to bookend Houston's life story with her performance at the 1994 American Music Awards, an epic, 10-minute vocal free-for-all in which Houston performs, with little to no breaks, "I Loves You Porgy," "And I'm Telling You (I'm Not Going)," and "I Have Nothing."

One song is vocally demanding. All three, back to back, live, is your fave could never.

"The live performance for many people is a measure for performers' true musicianship and their ability to really engage with the music and capture an audience's attention," Andrew Mall, an assistant professor of music at Northeastern University, told Time back in December. "She's had these ups and downs with her physical well being and ability to do it, but to bring this substantial, huge live performance for a nationwide broadcast really cements her position as a top diva and a virtuosic performer."

Houston's virtuosity aside, the toll of her arduous performance schedule, her addiction to drugs, and just the sheer force with which she sang slowly destroyed Houston's voice, and with it, her life. So that even now, her music elicits much joy, but it's a joy tinged with a visceral sadness of what we had and what we lost.

Didn't we almost have it all.

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