SIMILITUDE

Hear how the wind begins to whisper
See how the leaves go streaming by
Smell how the velvet rain is falling
Out where the fields are warm and dry
Now is the time to run inside and stay
Now is the time to find a hideaway

I experienced a fleeting moment of transcendence yesterday morning as I played 'The Many Moods Of Tony Bennett' (1964) on vinyl having made myself a cafetière of coffee (from my final packet of Taylors Of Harrogate 'Christmas Blend') and the bright morning sun beams shone through the steam vapours rising from my New York City illustrated mug.

Listening to 'Soon It's Gonna Rain' for the first time from the same album sent me into a place of complete oneness as the gentle, shimmering cymbals with rain drop-like piano notes accompanied Bennett's high-tone vocals, lifting my heart and mind from a mid-January slump.

I'm not even entirely sure what the lyrics of the song really mean (it was written for a musical called 'The Fantasticks' with lyrics by Thomas Collins Jones and music by Harvey Schmidt) and I certainly wouldn't make the case (at least not yet) for it belonging in the pantheon of great popular songs, though apparently the show has been a 'staple of regional, community and high school productions since its premiere.' Nevertheless, listening to the tune yesterday brought to mind a sense of deep relaxation and sanctuary, evoking an atmosphere of balmy summer days on the brink of sudden torrential downpours.

Now, having had the melody spinning in my head for roughly 24 hours, I realise it bears an uncanny resemblance to another balmy, summer-sounding song from the Frank Loesser 1956 musical, 'The Most Happy Fella', which also sends me into a type of momentary spiritual trance/rapture. Luckily for Thomas Jones and Harvey Schmidt, Loesser is no longer around (actually, neither are they, rest in peace) to run an artificial intelligence plagiarism detector through their song.

You'll notice, however, the lyrics to 'Joey, Joey, Joey' are infinitely superior to the song from 'The Fantasticks' and yet, to be fair, both melodies create a similar, magical effect that transports the listener far, far away from the winter blues.

Like a perfumed woman
The wind blows in the bunk house
Like a perfumed woman
Smellin' of where she's been
Smellin' of Oregon cherries
Or maybe Texas avocado
Or maybe Arizona sugar beet
The wind blows in
And she sings to me
'Cause I'm one of her ramblin' kin
She sings:

Joey, Joey, Joey
Joey, Joey, Joe
You've been too long in one place
And it's time to go, time to go!