"So I'll live a lush life in some small dive
And there I'll be, while I rot with the rest
Of those whose lives are lonely too"
Billy Strayhorn. His name can't be brought up without mentioning that of Duke Ellington: the two were bound together in work and life. Ellington "kept" Billy, in an apartment on the Upper West Side of Manhattan, blocks from his own. Billy was gay, shy and desperately unhappy; Ellington was his opposite. This is a one of the saddest and most difficult songs to sing or play. Strayhorn wrote the song while still a teenager and it remains elusive to the most seasoned interpreters. Frank Sinatra tried and never came up with something he liked. Ella Fitzgerald (accompanied by Duke Ellington), Johnny Hartman, and John Coltrane (without the lyrics) all have versions. Yet the lyrics are especially important in this song: they stand on their own as poetry. And here is Billy, doing it himself (as well as accompanying himself on piano.) I hope he found peace away from the "wheel of life."
I used to visit all the very gay places
I used to visit all the very gay places
Those come-what-may places
Where one relaxes on the axis of the wheel of life
To get the feel of life
From jazz and cocktails
The girls I knew had sad and sullen gray faces
With distingue traces
That used to be there
You could see where they'd been washed away
By too many through the day
Twelve-o'clock tails
Then you came along with your siren song
To tempt me to madness
I thought for awhile that your poignant smile
Was tinged with the sadness
Of a great love for me
Ah yes, I was wrong
Again, I was wrong
Life is lonely again
And only last year
Everything seemed so sure
Now life is awful again
A trough full of hearts could only be a bore
A week in Paris could ease the bite of it
All I care is to smile in spite of it
I'll forget you, I will
While yet you are still
While yet you are still
Burning inside my brain
Romance is mush
Stifling those who strive
So I'll live a lush life in some small dive
And there I'll be, while I rot with the rest
Of those whose lives are lonely too
