"Marie" Townes Van Zandt

There is not a more depressing-scary-horrible beautiful song than "Marie". If you have no idea who Townes Van Zandt was here's a quick bio: Born to a wealthy Texas family, left it to pursue music, had electro-shock treatment, fell off a roof, lived in a trailer and died of alcoholism, in between all of which he made a reputation for himself as the greatest songwriter of all time. Seriously, above Dylan in a lot of people's minds. Lyle Lovett, Steve Earle, Guy Clark...all of that music movement would be nothing without Townes's tutorship.

And Marie is a perfect example of the beautiful brutality of his music. Played in a minor key with a great base line run, the melody can be played by most anyone who has ever spent minimal time on the axe. Somewhat like a Dylan song the iceberg below the waterline is the ingredient that makes it so powerful. True artistry is doing so much with so little words and three chords. First verse:

"I stood in line and left my name
took about six hours or so
Well, the man just grinned like it was all a game
said they'd let me know
I put in my time till the Pocono line
shut down two years ago
I was staying at the mission till I met Marie
now I can't stay there no more"

The narrative continues with its voice running from place to place looking for a job and some money with Marie, mostly living under a bridge as a homeless couple. It has a Steinbeck-ian feel to it throughout the entire song, the only difference is that it is present day and this man is not any Oakie, the Joads have been long gone by the time Townes penned this piece.

And early on during the song it appears to NOT be that depressing and not really much of anything, just some guy mumbling about his problems but the height of the tension climaxes when Marie becomes pregnant, winter time has come and they still have nowhere to live. Unemployment checks have run out, welfare is unavailable and the only thing the narrator can think of doing is hopping a train and heading south except for the fact his wife is incapacitated by her pregnancy. The last verse:

"Marie she didn't wake up this morning
she didn't even try
she just rolled over and went to heaven
my little boy safe inside
I laid them in the sun where somebody'd find them
caught a Chesapeak on the fly
Marie will know I'm headed south
so's to meet me by and by"

It is hard to get the feel from these lyrics that one will get when listening to the horribly tragic guitar and Townes's low, rambling, understated voice. It is not happy like Woody Guthrie nor Ramblin' Jack Elliot's. It is sad, sad like a divorce and a death on the same day, the kinda sadness that leads one to drink. For Townes there is no question he had much more of this bottled up inside of him and no question to why he slowly killed himself with poison for forty years.

"Our Love is Here to Stay" Bobby Short-Late Night at the Cafe Carlyle

People love to talk about MLK and all the civil rights activists but in my mind the people who really changed things in their own way were the musicians. There was Sinatra stating he would not play if Sammy had to walk in the back door, there was Elvis taking black music and showing it to the world. Bobby Short was another man who never made speeches, nor protested anything on the streets; rather his protest was to play music to people who would never let him serve dinner in their homes. His charm, polite manners, amazing showman and musicianship converted high society and won them over. His love of Cabaret music, impeccable style and soft somewhat feminine voice left many to question his sexuality. But Bobby pulled some serious women in his day and was always seen with very desirous candy on his arm, including Gloria Vanerbilt. He was the first black man to be listed on the Social Register and an absolute icon who played for presidents and heads of states.

But he was most famous for his wonderful shows at The Cafe Carlyle, until his later years twice a night, almost everyday of the week. I first saw him there, barely old enough to drink while I sat at the bar alone, it opened up my mind to a world of music that people reserve only for those over seventy. Throughout the years it became a family event to see him around Christmas and are some of the greatest holiday memories I possess.

And he was humble, he would talk to you if you could hang with his wit. One night I called The Carlyle to see if I could get his set list, they didn't have it but gave me his agent's number. I was looking for the name of a song and the only thing I remembered was the opening lines. I called the agent and they gave me another number to call, called that and another run around. After about six numbers I called the last one, a 212 area code and a man answered the phone. I explained I was looking for Bobby Short's set list that he was currently working. The reply was "Well this is Mr. Short, who is this?" I stated my name, he replied "Yes, but who are you?" That admittedly snooty remark turned into an hour long conversation in which he explained every song on his setlist and why he played them, but the title of my song just wasn't clicking so I sang it to him over the line. To my surprise he started singing alone and told me the whole history of why he loved it. Amazingly, it was home number and I probably called twice a year until his death just to hear his answering service, the message of which was just as elegant as the man.

"Our Love is Here to Stay" is a song you probably have heard before instrumentally in movies or maybe a Nora Jones cover but this version is the way George and Ida Gershwin had intended it to be played. There is nothing but piano, brushes on the drums if you listen closely and Beverly Peer on the Bass Fiddle. It is simple, beautiful and reminds you of everything that love is supposed to be: deep, undying and epic. I am not saying it is, and for most it never will be and that is why this song is so important. Spend the .99 on it and if you like it the entire album, put aside your cynical ways, macho mentality and homophobia about Cabaret music and give it a chance. Everyone needs one day to grab your lover and slow dance around the living room whispering this song in her ear, if you do it right she'll relax in your arms and remember once again why she puts up with you in the first place. And in today's world where sexual roles in society are so confused and switched you'll feel like a man again taking charge and being a strong romantic, she'll feel like a woman and placate you in every way you've imagined.

"Indian Girl" Rolling Stones-Emotional Rescue

The follow up to some girls was just as strong and just as varied as its predecessor. "All About You" showcases Keif's beautiful, slow ballad voice, "She's So Cold" is typical Mick Jagger sex filled rock and "Dance Pt. 1" picks up right where "Miss You" left off. However the best song on the album, one of the most overlooked Stones songs of which there are a myriad is: "Indian Girl". This song has a Mick vocal, some horns, a great acoustic guitar rhythm. Listen to it when you are about to fall asleep so your selective hearing kicks in and you can actually hear the tracks laid down upon each other, beautifully relaxing. In that semi-conscious state your mind will drift to banana republics, oppressive heat and humidity, mirror sunglasses and fatigues on men with belts of bullets running through the jungle and starving children in the streets. "Indian Girl" addresses the typical life of a peasant in a South American dictatorship, the lyrics start with a simple question:

"Indian Girl, where is your mama?
Indian Girl, where is your papa?
He's fighting the war in the streets of Masaya."

and continue with the line:

"Lesson number one that you learn while you're young,
Life just goes on and on getting harder and harder."

The theme itself is simple, make no mistake this isn't a Dylan epic or even a Springsteen anti-rock, soul searching track. In reality this song doesn't really have much to it that is extraordinary with the exception of the last spoken verse that is mouthed in typical Mick accented' vernacular. Here it is:

"Mr. Gringo, my father he ain't no Che Guevara
And he's fighting the war on the streets of Masaya
Little Indian girl where is your father?
Little Indian girl where is your momma?
They're fighting for Mr. Castro in the streets of Angola.

And here's the way it sounds:

"Mr. Ginnngo-a, myfatherheain'tnoCheee Guevaraaaaa
He's fighting the war onthe streets of Masayaaaa
LittleIndian Girl whereisyour faatheerrr?
LittleIndian Girl whereisyour maaamaaa?
They'refightingforMr.Castro inthestreetsofAAAAAngoooooola.
LaLaLaLa LaLaLa LaLaLaLa LaLaLa.

It's awesome, Mick is on such a different level that he can pronounce any word in any way he wants. He can read the word "Cat" and make is sound like "Dog" but he can do that because he is Mick Jagger. Mick, the man who in his sixties is still rocking hard and working out for two hours before a show. Mick the man who had to sleep with David Bowie because he has already slept with every woman on the planet so he figured he'd pick a guy that every woman wants to sleep with. Mick, a man who in a perfect world would be wearing a beret, green fatigues and mirror sunglasses as a dictator in a Latin American country. Refugees from around the world would be lining up to give away their freedom without question, come to think of it I've done that every time I've dropped four grand for a Stones ticket and never thought twice about it.

"Quizás, Quizás, Quizás" Arielle Dombasle and Julio Iglesias

I am not a gay man but I feel confident enough in my sexuality to say that if I was Julio Iglesias in his prime is the man I'd want to brush up against in the morning. But I am a straight man, in turn Arielle Dombasle in her prime is who I want to be spooning with in the morning after a bottle or two of Bordeaux and a set of dirty white sheets. Born in Connecticut and raised in Mexico of French decent, currently the wife of Bernard-Henri Lévy, this woman is more sophisticated than BMW's iDrive. Julio, born in Madrid, law student, soccer player and guilty of causing more women to slide out of their seats this side of Tom Jones. Together they take the Cuban born Osvaldo Farrés's song to level of sexual tension and longing not seen since I walked by the red light district windows in Amsterdam when I was fourteen.

The song itself is simple (Perhaps, Perhaps, Perhaps) and has been covered by a plethora of people including such undersiables as (I shutter to think) two of the Spice Girls and The Pussycat Dolls. Under Arielle and Julio the song sheds the chez of the former mentioned and the Nat King Cole-Norman Rockwell-type bubble gum sweetness which corrupts it totally. No this version from Dombasle's "Amor" album, is just under three minutes for a reason, because that's how long it is going to take once you shed those clothes of hers off, but like the act you are ready to hit the replay button time and time again until exhaustion.

The song retains its Cuban feel and sound, with little overproduction. Arielle's voice purrs during her first part until Julio comes in deep and low with a hint of sheepish longing. They continue stabbing back and forth throughout the remainder of the song ramping up the sexual tension until the end where the question remains answered only with the word Perhaps three times over. The lyrics are terribly simple and straight forward, six verses comprised of four lines with little more than fix or six words per line. Their meaning? Just as simple, it is someone asking "Yes?" and always getting a reply of "Maybe."

Probably the majority of songs in the world are written about love or sex, out of those a majority are about unrequited love and this song is no different. It is an example of an age old problem that has started wars, been the cause of murders and countless restless nights alone. It is what strip clubs and the prostitution business base their livelihoods on and for women the reason why they'll pass on the entree and walk around in crippling heels every evening. Everything in our lives eventually comes down to these emotions and even these two sex icons have felt it, they must have or else they couldn't sing about it with such convincing sincerity.