September Song (1938)

Kurt Weill



"Oh, it's a long, long while from May to December
But the days grow short when you reach September. . ."

An appropriate song to begin the month of September and also to resstart this blog from some years ago. I first heard Walter Huston (John's father) singing this wistful song in a wavering, almost desperate voice: it's the end of summer, the end of vacation, the end of youth. He is better known for his character acting, particularly as the hard-bitten gold miner in his son's Treasure of the Sierra Madre. For a more modern version, check out Lou Reed's version on the great compilation album Lost In the Stars: a Tribute to Kurt Weill. 

VERSE
When I was a young man courting the girls
I played me a waiting game.
If a maid refused me with tossing curls
I'd let the old earth take a couple of twirls
And I'd ply her with tears instead of pearls
And as time came around, she came my way
As time came around, she came.

CHORUS
Oh, it's a long, long while from May to December
But the days grow short when you reach September
When the autumn weather turns the leaves to flame
One hasn't got time for the waiting game

Oh, the days dwindle down to a precious few
September, November
And these few precious days I'll spend with you
These precious days I'll spend with you

Black Coffee (1948)

Webster/Burke

"A woman's born to weep and fret, to stay at home and tend her lovin'

And drown her past regrets, in coffee and cigarettes."

What is it about old coffee cans that makes artists want keep them around for stuff?  They can hold paintbrushes, paint... visit the Pollock-Krasner House and you will see the ones he used. Lee Krasner, no slouch of a painter herself and wife to Pollock certainly must have done a fair amount of "staying home and tendin' her lovin," trying to dry Jackson out and quit the booze. (Sadly, she lost the battle.) Peggy Lee does a knock-out version of this song, a bluesy, caffeine-y, swinging ballad. Her voice is modern, cool and edgy similar to a Pollock painting... or a Krasner, for that matter.

CHORUS

I'm feelin' mightly lonesome, Haven't slept a wink,
I walk the floor and watch the door
and in between I drink.....Black coffee,
Love's a hand me down brew
I'll never know a Sunday
in this weekday room.

I'm talking to the shadows
1 o'clock to four,
and lord how slow the moments go
when all I do is pour Black coffee
Since the blues caught my eye.
I'm hanging out on Monday,
My Sunday dreams to dry.

Now a man is born to go a lovin'
A woman's born to weep and fret
To stay at home and tend her lovin'
And drown her past regrets in coffee and cigarettes.

I'm moonin' all the mornin', mournin' all the night
and in between it's nicotine and not much heart to fight
Black coffee
Feelin' low as the ground,
it's drivin' me crazy, this waitin' for my baby
To maybe come around.

My nerves have gone to pieces
My hair is turnin' grey
All I do is drink black coffee,
Since my man's gone away.

Lush Life (1938)

Strayhorn

"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

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

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

The Very Thought of You (1934)

Ray Noble



"The mere idea of you, the longing here for you..."

I think perhaps it's the melody, but I find this song, especially the Nat King Cole version, to be one of the greatest and sexiest love songs ever written. That said, one of the most tragic, greatest of couples somehow comes to mind: Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald. Yes, it's stream of consciousness, but aren't we all living in a kind of daydream, anyway?

VERSE

I don't need your photograph, to keep by my bed,
your picture is always in my head.
I don't need your portrait, dear, to call you to mind,
for sleeping or waking, dear, I find...


The very thought of you and I forget to do
The little ordinary things that everyone ought to do
I'm living in a kind of daydream
I'm happy as a king
And foolish though it may seem
To me that's everything
The mere idea of you, the longing here for you
You'll never know how slow the moments go till I'm near to you
I see your face in every flower
Your eyes in stars above
It's just the thought of you
The very thought of you, my love

VERSE TWO

I hold you responsible, I'll take it to law,
I never have felt like this before.
I'm suing for damages, excuses won't do,
I'll only be satisfied with you.

Auld Lang Syne (trad.)

Lyrics associated with Robert Burns

"For auld lang syne. we'll take a cup o' kindness yet,
For auld lang syne."



It wouldn't be a proper New Year without a chorus of "Auld Lang Syne," preferably played by Guy Lombardo and his Orchestra. This year, sing all the different verses - that is, if you are sober enough to manage the Scottish. Wikipedia has a helpful page that will help with definitions and pronounciations. By the way, the Scottish refer to New Year's Eve as Hogmanay.

CHORUS

Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And auld lang syne?

For auld lang syne, my dear,
For auld lang syne.
We'll take a cup o' kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.

And surely ye'll be your pint-stowp!
And surely I'll be mine!
And we'll take a cup o' kindness yet,
for auld lang syne.

We twa hae run about the braes
And pou'd the gowans fine.
We've wandered mony a weary foot,
Sin' auld lang syne.

We twa hae sported i' the burn,
From morning sun till dine,
But seas between us braid hae roared
Sin' auld lang syne.

And ther's a hand, my trusty friend,
And gie's a hand o' thine;
We'll tak' a right good willie-waught,,
For auld lang syne

Out of Nowhere (1931)

J. Green

"You came to me from out of nowhere. . .

wonderful schemes, wonderful dreams from nowhere . . ."

"Greetings my friend! We are all interested in the future, for this is where you and I are going to spend the rest of our lives!" Immortal words from the Amazing Criswell, who was a famously inaccurate psychic. But this is the kind of lyric to which I can really relate:  less romance and more existential life questions. In what matter does the flow of events occur; why do things often seem to come from nowhere at all, with no rhyme or reason?  Things do seem to come Out of Nowhere, as sung by Lena Horne. 

VERSE

When I least expected
Kindly fate directed
You to make each dream of mine come true.
And if it's clear or raining
There is no explaining
Things just happen and so did you.

CHORUS

You came to me from out of nowhere,
you took my heart and found it free.
Wonderful dreams, wonderful schemes from nowhere
made every hour sweet as a flower for me.

If you should go back to your nowhere,
leaving me with a memory,
I'll always wait for your return out of nowhere,
hoping you'll bring your love to me.

There Will Never Be Another You (1942)

Gordon/Warren



There will be other songs to sing,
another Fall, another Spring,
But there will never be another you."

This first post is dedicated to the great Max Roach, who was a neighbor in our building and a friend. Attending his memorial service at the Riverside Church, the magnitude of the crowd in and waiting outside the church underlined again how significant Max was to the world, both as musician and human rights activist. Jimmy Heath played an saxophone solo of this song at the service. How true.

LYRICS
There will be many other nights like this
And I'll be standing here with someone new
There will be other songs to sing,
another Fall, another Spring
But there will never be another you

There will be other lips that I may kiss
But they won't thrill me like yours used to do
I may dream a million dreams but
how can they come true
If there will never ever be another you