Bloorp.

Why aren’t there love songs like this anymore?

If that sounds old-fashioned of me, well, it is. I don’t generally care for modern day love songs — many of them lack the sincerity and genuine emotion that classic standards can evoke.

Even if Valentine’s Day is a Hallmark holiday, I can always appreciate a well-crafted love song from a bygone era.

“The Very Thought Of You” has to be one of the loveliest tunes ever penned, and Nat King Cole’s haunting rendition quivers with the emotion that songs today try to achieve and mostly fail.

If we heard someone sing “I see your face in every flower, your eyes in stars above,” it wouldn’t sound right, would it? Cheesy, eye-rolling, even unoriginal. Yet somehow, with a song like this, it just fits.

Do me a favour: close your eyes and let the marvelous, dreamy arrangement take you away, and if you feel yourself being serenaded by this simple poem of love, just let it happen. Your heart will thank you.

Finding old files is like uncovering forgotten treasure, isn’t it?

I’m not sure how I could have possibly forgotten about this one, which I took in New York this past February. (I must have been too preoccupied posting pictures of rhino iguanas and emu carpaccio.)

February was my last month with KidScreen before moving over to its sister publication Playback, thus ending three memorable years of covering a most fascinating industry.

And what a way to end it all — watching the legendary Bobby McFerrin and his son Taylor belt out an a capella version of “Misty” one of my all-time favourite standards.

Bake ‘em away, toys.

Few things are more beautiful than a man and his piano.

Matt’s supremely gifted uncle Tom Baker is also a former musical director for The Second City Toronto (keeping it all in the family, you see). He is the most wonderful pianist and has released a few solo piano albums, which we gave to my jazz-loving father .

We visited him and his wife earlier this week in the country, an hour and a half out of the city where they own a sprawling 50 acres of land. Also in their possession are a number of gorgeous instruments, from a grand piano to a dulcimer (dulcimer!) to a bass recorder.

While playing around with the instruments, we mentioned how much Dad loved the CDs and I wondered if Tom was at all familiar with the song “Emily.”

He was out of the room when I leaned over to ask Matt. As if on cue, he reentered the room and Matt asked the question for me, “Do you know the song ‘Emily?’”

With hardly a moment’s hesitation, Tom made a beeline for the piano room and the sounds of My Song filled the air like they’d been there all along. My heart swelled and I was rooted to the spot.

There was a sudden pause in the melody and we heard Tom cry out, “Oh, shit!” as he tried to remember the rest of the song. Matt, his aunt and I all burst out laughing, then we moved closer to the piano room to watch the music man at play.

But as you’ll see, the song eases its way back into his memory, making it very hard for anyone watching not to smile.

When it was over, Tom rose from the piano, looked at me and said, “I think I’ll put that on my next album.”

My friend Jim did just that earlier this year. I can only keep my fingers crossed that Tom may do the same.

�UOo

Hesitation can be a beautiful thing.

I happened to be in NYC at the same time as the Play Me, I’m Yours art installation in which 60 pianos were given temporary homes in public spots across the city.

Purely by accident, I discovered the first one in Battery Park when Matt was attempting to figure out how to snap a decent shot of the Statue of Liberty.

It was a brutal scorcher of a weekend in New York and I don’t adjust well to heat. So with zero interest in being exposed any further to the unyielding sun, I retreated to the nearest shady area.

My sights were set on the first wooden bench, but as I was about to sit down, my ears immediately perked up at the faint and familiar sound of a solo piano.

A quick turn of the head revealed the source of the sound. I forgot about sitting down and moved closer.

Read More

How does anyone like their bass that high? It sounds like weaponized garbage.

—

Matt, reflecting on those who cruise through the city with their car windows rolled all the way down and the bass turned up so high that you can still feel the vibrations in your chest long after they’ve driven past—if you’re lucky, you may even get a slight ringing in your ears.

It reminds me of people on public transit whose music is blasting through their headphones so loudly that everyone within a 10-foot radius can experience the pleasure of interrupted silence.

I’m not sure why this happens. But I imagine it’s a combination of the following:

1. Already having destroyed hearing so that normal to them is like a jet taking off in my ear canal
2. They love their weaponized garbage so much that they feel pedestrians and commuters would most certainly love it, too.

It’s good to know that certain individuals are looking out for other people’s wants and needs. How considerate.

This song can be taken one of two ways:

1. If The Land of Chocolate sequence in The Simpsons went beyond the pure joy of Homer crazily consuming confectionery at every turn and then zeroed in on more sensual, indulgent pleasures, this would undoubtedly be its theme.
2. If you were literally suffering death by chocolate, well…how can you not picture these sexy sounds wafting in the background as you meet your untimely but delicious demise?

I bought this album several years ago solely based on its title. A classic case of “judging a book by its cover,” if you will. I knew nothing of De Phazz, only that they somehow fit in the jazz/lounge category because they were filed under that section at the store. The cover art held my interest for longer than five seconds, so I figured I’d give it a shot. It’s still one of my favourite albums.

Admittedly, I don’t even like chocolate all that much and I never crave it. I know. That’s weird, especially for a girl. But that suits me just fine. If you know me to any degree, you’ll know that my girly tendencies are few and far between.

I wouldn’t call “Death by Chocolate” my top track on the album, but it’s definitely up there. And why pick that particular song to share? I haven’t quite figured it out, but something about indulgent desires seems fitting in some inexplicable way.

So let’s go with that, shall we?

Daydreaming is inevitable when I listen to this song.

I love this arrangement, particularly the lovely instrumental interlude so full of whimsy that I can’t help but find myself transported to an evening that feels like another, more distant life.

My mind conjures up a multitude of hazy, dreamy scenes…velvety night sky and a bold moon under which nothing can hide…a wooden dock jutting out into calm waters, the gentle lapping of tiny waves, and I’m sprawled out on an oversized blanket, staring into the endless, star-dotted sky with all the time in the world…and this pretty little ditty is wafting in the background…

Tubas in the moonlight, playing for me all night
Tell me what I want to hear
Am I only dreaming?
Am I only scheming?
Stars above me, shining brightly
Why can’t she be sitting here beside me?
Tubas in the moonlight will bring my loved one home

Now. Where the hell are the tubas in this song?

Perhaps the only thing better than having talented friends is having a personal love of their talents, and Jim Clayton is no exceptional to that rule. This enormously talented local jazz musician was recently in New Orleans with his lovely partner Tracey recording a solo jazz piano album at The Music Shed.

Jim was coincidentally performing a vibraphone gig on my birthday almost exactly a year ago, and I had requested the song “Emily” after which my dad named me. I was utterly delighted when he actually played it—even more surprised when I discovered that Tracey had recorded part of the song for me!

He sent me a message a couple of weeks ago, saying he’d been “digging that tune” since that gig and that he had recorded “Emily” on the album. Not long after, I finally got to hear it and now I can happily share it here.

I’m probably biased, but for what it’s worth, I think it’s a gorgeous interpretation. Listening to it transports me back to an era more fitting of my old timey soul, an era when it made sense to describe this beautiful love story unfolding right in front of you with nary a lyric to be heard, and the melody guided you blissfully through the night.

Thursday Night in New Orleans is now available for streaming and I can’t recommend it enough. Thank you for sharing your beautiful talent with the world, Jim. We need more of this.