Dang it, NPR. I’ve got songs stuck in my head. On Sundays I take Lloyd into choir rehearsal, do my errands, then sit in the church parking lot for a bit while I wait for him to come out. I usually listen to NPR because they have stories (and Grandma loves her stories). Last week there was an interview with Sylvie Lewis, a singer who has a beautiful voice and several different styles of songs. They played two melancholy ones, which are my downfall. I love melancholy songs. I bought them on iTunes when I got home, and have been suffering Tormenting Song Syndrome since. I’m sure you’re familiar with it – the song that plays over and over and over and over and over in your head so you can’t sleep or think straight. I think I’ve come up with the solution, though. I used to lie awake at night with just one or two lines playing over and over and driving me insane, but now I just load the song on the Shuffle and let it play until I fall asleep. You wouldn’t think that it works, but it does!
Anyway, here are the lyrics of ‘Of course, Isabelle’. She said she read an article that said as men grow older they grow more sentimental about the past, while women can easily let go. This is about a man remembering a past love, or perhaps his mistress. She sings both the man’s and the woman’s part. If I knew how to include a snippet I would. Or, you could click here and click on it over toward the right under the picture (Be warned that there are swear words in the article on the left Not my fault.)
Isabelle, are you well? Do you miss me at all?
Are you sleeping right through the night in spite of it all?
Isabelle, what the hell? You don’t write, you don’t call.
I miss you, can’t you tell? Isabelle
There have been three women in my life I have loved well, well, well.
My mother, my wife – and of course, Isabelle.
I met an old friend I hadn’t seen for half my life.
We talked and laughed as if no time had gone by.
Now it’s like someone put a spoon in my memory and gave it a stir.
Thoughts are floating around of where you went, where are you now
After how we were….
Isabelle, are you well? Do you miss me at all?
Are you sleeping right through the night in spite of it all?
Isabelle, what the hell? You don’t write, you don’t call.
I miss you, can’t you tell? Isabelle
****
Me and the girls are stories to you.
You read us and tell us when you are through.
How will you tell me? (Lauren here. That’s a GREAT line.)
Will you be honest if you find
You’re having trouble making everything rhyme?
Depending on who’s listening will you lie
And make yourself look more noble than you did at the time?
When I tell my side – you made a plaything of my heart.
You make love ‘entertainment’, but to me – love is art.
I wonder – how will you tell me? How will you tell me?
****
Three women in my life I have loved true, it’s true.
My mother, my wife, and of course, Isabelle – you.