Thinking of Marvin Hamlisch and Melody as Memory

With the news of composer Marvin Hamlisch's death, I am thinking of his song What I Did For Love.  It's a song I played over and over and over on my piano. The lyrics (by Edward Kleban) are beautiful.  But it is the piano intro, the steady porch swing quality of those early repeating notes-- that later come back to haunt again-- that is caught inside me.

It's interesting, the way music stays with you, how its rhythm becomes your rhythm. I always find it strange that you can hear a song in your head.  All of us can do it.  But how is it possible to hear without hearing?  How does melody replay itself as memory? 

It's been a while since I shared the Linda Eder love.

In memory of the people who give us the remarkable gift of song.

A Splurge

I may have mentioned once or one hundred times that I love Linda Eder.  Just hours ago, I was fortunate enough to see her live (I mean really see her, just 20 feet away) at Feinstein's, a classic Manhattan night club that feels like stepping into a time warp.  In the ladies room, I saw two elderly women with snowy puffs of perfectly coiffed hair, wearing fur coats on this unseasonably warm day.  This is the Upper East Side, folks.  Steps away from Bloomingdales.  A glitz and a ritz away from Madison Avenue.

To be honest, I could not afford this show.  And I certainly could not afford the insanely overpriced bottle of Pinot Noir on our table.  It was both a surprise and relief when I landed a new writing gig this afternoon AND when I stepped into my boss's office to receive a (very modest) bonus check.  Both justified that bottle of wine and my initial splurge.

Tyler and I chatted with the woman sitting at the table next to ours.  She had flown from Utah.  She had ordered a feast at her table for her and her alone.  An appetizer, entree, champagne, dessert. She would not only see this show, but she would see Linda Eder at tomorrow night's show and, again, at the show the night after that.

Suddenly, my 'splurge' did not seem so epic.  Later, we wondered if her costly trip was a bit excessive.

I am far too sentimental about music.  I cry way too often over a violin.  I barely held it together during Linda Eder's rendition of Somewhere Over The Rainbow (Is there no song sadder for a person with too-big dreams?)  Maybe that sentimentality is the fault of the novel I am desperate to publish right now. I hang on to old songs. I try to write about once-famous singers.  I think finding your singing voice is a coming-of-age tale.

But, I don't know, I am lucky.  So very lucky to have what I have.  Maybe I'm spending money on the wrong things.

How much would you pay to take a long walk with someone you love on a blue-sky day?  Look up a tree?  Eat an ice cream cone?

Maybe there is no price too high to listen to a beautiful song.  To hear a voice that brings you joy.

Falling Slowly

Lately, it seems I do not get any blog traffic on Fridays, so I've used the time to rattle on about my strange obsessions, like Linda Eder and Company.

I'll add this song, Falling Slowly, to the list. It is a few years old and I'm sure you've heard it. It won the Academy Award for Best Original Song in 2007. It's from the film, Once and is written by Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova.

I'm going to go out on a limb and say it's one of the most beautiful songs I've ever heard and I woke up with it in my head, even though I haven't heard it in a while. (It should be noted, there is a version in which Linda Eder sings it, but I won't subject you all to any more Linda Eder. It's getting out of hand. Unless you want me to, in which case...well, call me, we'll chat...)

Gold

Listening to Linda Eder makes me sublimely happy so I thought I would post this video today.

The song is Gold, from a musical I would give my right arm to see: Camille Claudel.

Unfortunately, the musical is this elusive thing, that existed for three weeks and there are currently no plans for it to run again. It's about Camille Claudel, who was Rodin's lover, muse, and a sculptor herself. I search for scattered pieces of this musical wherever I can find them.

I love this song because of Linda Eder's incredible voice but, also, because of the lyrics (written by Nan Knighton) I feel it captures a lot of themes I want to explore when I write and read and live. It came up on my IPod once and I cried in the middle of a crowded subway car, it was so lovely. (Let's not count how many times Melissa has cried on a subway car while listening to a random mp3 because that would be embarrassing.) I'm also slightly obsessed with Linda's purple dress.

Super Sweet Sixteens, Blindness, and Linda Eder

My brain is working a bit strange these days, under the influence of cold medication and general exhaustion and stuffiness. I feel I must blog and so I do, with no rhyme or reason, or feelings of responsibility to/for what comes out.

I'm going to a super sweet sixteen this weekend for my cousin Gabby. I received an invitation in the mail that was sent in a little blue box and I was told that it is a 'Tiffany-inspired' birthday party. Well then. She's only inviting 80 of her closest friends so I feel privileged to even get an invite. I've also been told there is a special surprise in store for the birthday girl. I really hope it's Justin Beiber.

Yesterday, I stayed home from work to nurse my cold and I saw the episode of "Little House On Prairie" in which Mary goes blind. Wow. I mean...just...wow. That's all I can say. Those were some very serious times on the prairie. I'm not sure how I survived it, never mind the Ingalls'. I mean seriously, one day your eyes hurt and the next day you're blind? Is that how it works?

Speaking of blindness, I once thought Mandy Patinkin was blind because he had to wear these really big glasses whenever he performed. But it turned out that he had a corneal transplant because he was legally blind in his left eye.

And does anyone remember Nancy Kerrigan's mother? She was legally blind and she used to watch Nancy perform from the stands watching this television that always looked very fuzzy to me. I never understood it. Do you look at fuzzy things but it looks clear?

Guess what? On May 20th, I'm going to see Linda Eder at the Town Hall. I'm obsessed with her beautiful singing voice and I've been waiting for the dates and times and places to all line up so I can finally see her. And they finally did. I am so excited, I can barely stand it. You should watch this video of her singing 'Man of La Mancha' (below). Because you can be a woman and be Don Quixote if you're Linda Eder. That's just how it works.

Please feel free to share your feelings on any subject what-so-ever in the comments.