Dearest love, your excellenza is a bit tired after her long ramble...
Up in the aerie sipping iced wine. Should be downstairs roasting, then quite possibly infusing, whipping, and drizzling sweet potatoes. Sweet potato can wait. Women of Note is on, at the moment a sultry fado, sung Llasa de Selo. The sound makes my own voice deepen and darken and my eyes narrow and glint with undisguised ulterior motive - come here, you. How do you like your pie?
I'll tell you who musically is doing it for me these days - David Gray. I don't mean to gush but wow. Today they played Coming Down on KZE and it had the fado effect on me. The passion in his voice - I can't get over it. And his lyrics! In every song I've heard so far - poetry, combined -- here for example-- with the instrument of his voice.
Tears falling slowI checked out his website and see he's playing at the Egg in Albany on April 5. A serious reason to head north to the mysterious Egg. Except that I'd like to see such a concert with you or bust so I probably won't. But if we are ever destined to be together - then please, darling - let's go to a David Gray concert sometime. Or get every album of his and light a fire...
From the bridge
Into the river below
In your eyes, I start to see
A starry veil,
The ocean of infinity
Moon and stars above me
Mingle with the blood
Inside my vein
These empty arms
That should be
Holding you close
Through nights of winter rain...
I'm not looking it up now, but I recollect in James Joyce, the short story The Dead probably, there's a description of the melting effect of an Irish tenor. I never really related to it, at least, in my youth, not most tenors I had heard. Sappy songs sung in a treble warble turn me off. I don't know that David Gray is tenor or not. All I know is there is a complex, textured quality to the way he belts out a song and lingers on a phrase and breaks his voice and howls before rapeling to the next lyric.
(Right darling - I'm actually thinking of you, truly I am!)
Back from a matinee of Shutter Island, directed by Martin Scorsese. I enjoyed it greatly and was able, refreshingly, not to take it personally, though I found the theme (no spoilers) about the nature of scrambled mind(s) interesting and apposite. I stuck around for the credits to see if it had been filmed in Gloucester. There weren't many people in the audience at the godforsaken multiplex but they all leapt out of their seats at the ending frame, thus missing out on a great song that played as the credits rolled - This Bitter Earth, by Dinah Washington. Wonderful, as Creslyn would say. This was the second Dinah Washington I heard today - a fortuitous tiny pleat in my lifetime...
I jotted down a few lyrics in the dark as the credits rolled... here are my notes (not the full lyrics)
This bitter earth
How can it be so cold
I hope someone will answer my call
And then it may not be so bitter after all
What good is love
that no one shares?
La la la la la la la
I will leave you on that note, my love, with very many kisses and dreams of you