Far too Sensual

The latest set of songs is not to be listened to with a weak will. It's simply far too sensual! We start out, innocuously enough, with an old Beatles song: “I Want to Tell You.” We’re then brought a notch further along with a Dylan song—“I Want You.” That song is a nice, light one—lots of references we don’t get (who is the guilty undertaker?), but the overall feeling is one of joyous desire.

A darker side develops with the Costello number—intense jealousy combined with past experiences drive that lengthy, thrilling number.

One song (at least) was left off Bob Dylan’s 30th Anniversary Concert Celebration—Sophie B. Hawkins’ “I Want You.” Perhaps she had already released it on her own album and didn’t want competition . . . perhaps the lawyers got their hooks into it in some way. Whatever the case, Hawkins’ cover is pretty good—even though it is transparently designed to manipulate our sexual emotions. The concert itself is mostly people playing guitars in a decidedly-unflashy fashion. Sophie B. Hawkins is the exception. She wanders about, gradually taking off a trench coat and a hat and so on. I like it because it seems so clumsy and naïve, not because it is particularly sexy. In any case, it’s a sensual song (even if we see through its intentions).

Coming back to the Beatles, we hit the last song on Side A of Abbey Road. Lyrically speaking, minimal, the song is astonishing. The stormy ending is remarkable. The song has the storminess of the emotions it’s attempting to capture. I always expect a pause (while turning over the album)—and then “Here Comes the Sun.” A welcome relief from the wonderfully-loud turmoil of the end of “I Want You.”

Instead, we get an old Jazz number—Louis Jordan’s “I Want You to be my Baby” followed by Over the Rhine’s “I Want You to be my Love.”

The next song keeps us in the mood—Nat King Cole singing “I was a Little too Lonely (and you were a Little too Late)” is a fine revenge song.

We jump out of the mood with the last number . . . but it has the benefit of being the only Rock song I know to employ the phrase “laissez-faire”:

“In the first bar, things were ‘stop and stare’;
In this bar, things were ‘laissez-faire.’”

All in all, a very nice alphabetical experience!

ds

p.s. I should affix a warning—this will stir you up. I was listening to it while walking around the gym at five o’clock in the morning—among others who look like me: unattractive people sweating in a not-particularly-pleasing way. Yet everyone started to look much more desirable midway through this playlist.