I'm Bach-Man

Been a little while since I blogged.  Here goes...

One of the first songs I learned in voice lessons was I'll Never Fall In Love Again.  I hated it.  It was hard and jumped all over the place.  It made falling in love sound just awful, too.  I was just a pup.  Five years later, I got my first CD, Spike by Elvis Costello.  I didn't know anything about Costello except that Darryl Hall made an appearance in his video for The Only Flame In Town in the early 80's.  The CD was a gift, and as much as I wish my roots had that much integrity, I was listening to a bunch more Monkees and B-52's at the time.  Eight years and many boy band CD's later, I found myself channel surfing and landed on Sessions hosted by David Byrne, another singer I didn't really care about.  I paused because he seemed so gosh darn earnest when he talked about this gal who was about to sing an integral part of the next number, My Thief.  Elvis' introduction seemed over the top,  and I figured he must be sleeping with this waif singer for her to get such high praise for a phrase or two.   Another 14 years have slipped by--I more than totally get it, now.  All the discussion, orchestration, and grandeur sent me to Hastings to purchase Painted From Memory, B&C's monumental collaboration that is still in my top five albums of all time.

Today, while flipping through songs on a Spotify Natalie Cole radio station, a familiar song came on, but a version I'd never heard.  A cut off a Steve Tyrell album of Bacharach ditties.  My eyes widened.  I turned up the volume and stared at my boss.  Could it be?  Was The Blob not the most unusual Bacharach gem?  My boss stared back, equally quizzical.  I searched around and unearthed this version, by his only other other half that I dig, Dionne Warwick, singing an early demo version of Naked Eyes' Always Something There To Remind Me.  Revelation.

As if by magic, another coworker, in passing, mentioned the recent Gershwin Awards ceremony where Stevie Wonder brought the White House down with one of Bach's best.  Before I had a chance to look it up, this coworker stopped me, emphasizing his preference for Miss Chaka Khan's version of Alfie.  Burt's worked with everybody.  He's done every decade.  His music is complicated and schmaltzy, and I don't ever want these modern classics to stop.

Burt Bacharach, I would like to add you to my life list.  I want to sing one song with The Roots, spend three hours onstage with Queen, and I want to be your muse.  Even just for three and a half minutes.  I want you to stand up from your piano bench and boss me around.  I'll sing whatever you tell me to.