Frank Sinatra said that the purpose of a lounge singer is to sell drinks. The sadder you make 'em, the more they drink. The raison d'etre. Tonight, I am just too far away from home to get home. Feeling the strain ACUTELY. Only Beverly Hills, Chicago or New York can make a Friday night away painless. Or mildly so.
So, I go to my favorite place in this town. Not B.H., Chicago or NYC. And they have a young lady singing in the lounge. Playing the piano. No doubt a student at the local (acclaimed) music school. I was all right until she leveled a murderer's row of tunes, including
Moon River
Somewhere Over The Rainbow
You Were Always On My Mind
Fire And Rain
Vincent
You Don't Know Me
Goin To Carolina (In My Mind)
I Want To Go Home
She drove me to the (singerless) bar of the Hilton. Frank would have been proud.
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3 comments:
Life is not all firecrackers and crabcakes. As you point out, sometimes melancholy is Epic.
Get home soon.
I love Moon River. Here's the scene: about 20 years ago... me and my neighbour who was about 15+ years older than me, and some of his men friends. sailing back down the chesapeake bay after a race. early october, harvest moon rising over the eastern shore. all of the men on the boat singing moon river. me, barely keeping the tears in check.
it's a moment i will always remember.
Ben, thanks. So true.
PD, what a beautiful scene! It should be in a movie.
ML
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