MOON ON THE RAIN

Jazz in a basement bar, the moon's on the rain 
Drunk too much, spent too much, penniless again 
Oh sweetheart where are you tonight 
I remember when we used to walk by the Thames 
The lights on the embankment like jewels on chains 
I'll never forget what you said at the start 
You said I'll put a string of lights 'round your heart

There are some songs that stick around your entire life like old friends. You turn to them at times when you're feeling low and in need of some light and warmth, like the musical equivalent of a bowl of hot soup. Fairground Attraction's Moon on the Rain is one of those songs for me, and whenever I hear it I find myself both lost in the romantic scenes described in the lyrics, and lost in the memory of when I first heard the song, with all the atmospheric details that accompanied those first listens.

Of course, from the song's protagonist's perspective, Moon on the Rain (sung exquisitely by Fairground’s Eddi Reader) is about the regret of a lost love, but also the fond remembrance of it, experienced while sitting penniless and listening to jazz in a 'basement bar'. In this impoverished reverie, recalling memories from that shared time of happiness, the woman seems nourished by her recollections, which heighten her appreciation of that luminous feeling of being in love, all the while noticing the beauty of the world around her, as if achieving a small personal enlightenment after the break-up.

For me, it evokes the lighting of jasmine-scented joss sticks, bangles jangling on the wrist of the girl you fancied at school, and the first swig of wine shared between some teenage friends, whilst the smell of nearby bonfires trespassed into our noses like smoky perfume and seems to complement, on a sensory level, the red-golden sunsets of autumn that match the colour of fallen leaves drifting down from nearby trees.

As well as these foolish things, it was a time when our school was divided between the Jitters and the Plebs, a kind of British class version of the Sharks and the Jets from West Side Story, and I was caught somewhere in between. I wasn’t sure whether to fully embrace the pretentiousness of poetic posturing with the Jitters or relax with the shit-kicking, no-nonsense, Puma-tracksuit-wearing Plebs, who were more comfortable with the smell of Lynx deodorant than sandalwood incense.

Still, it seemed impossible to ignore that, while first crushes blossomed under autumn skies, the Jitter sensibility was preferable for the spirit of teen romance in the air. Fairground Attraction offered a perfect soundtrack to that amorous time.

A couple of weeks ago, I saw Eddi Reader in concert, and remarkably, her voice sounded almost exactly as it did back then in the early ’90s on my personal Walkman with the orange foam headphones. I even saw a Jitter girl (now a grown woman) at the bar during the interval, perhaps enjoying some nostalgia for that same time I remembered.

Though Reader didn’t sing Moon on the Rain that night, she delivered possibly the most sublime rendition of Moon River I’ve ever heard. Both songs now seem forever twinned to me, sharing not only their obvious moon theme but also a sense of being in love with the idea of the world as an extension of falling in love with another human being.

Now, as life invariably takes its toll on sentimental hearts, especially in the brutalised age we are all living through, it is perhaps harder to access those delicate feelings of youth albeit idealised that combined wonder with love, both with others and with the world at large.

Nevertheless, every time I hear Moon on the Rain, they soon come flooding back.