Romantically Tragic

Stacey Kent. I wouldn’t call her a jazz musician/vocalist. Jazzy, perhaps, or pop-jazz, some might call it. But nonetheless her jazzy voice is quiet and subtle, a little slippery, as if she wasn’t sure she can reach higher notes, and we braced ourselves too… and then she galloped with beauty.

I love this review about her on New York Times:

The least ornate of pop-jazz singers, Ms. Kent pounces on lyrics with a no-nonsense directness. Emotions are muted but not stifled. High drama is absent.

Recently I love repeating one song in particular, from album Breakfast On the Morning Tram. Here it is:

So Romantic

You always had a taste for those movies
Like Casablanca and Song o’ My Heart
Where a complicated world
Or the call of adventure
Forces true lovers to part
When the hero turns his back so stoically
On all the happiness they might have had

You always considered it
So romantic
But I just considered it sad

It was so like you to choose such a moment
The sun setting over the square
A pavement cafe, the local children at play
The sound of an accordion somewhere
You suddenly said Fate was pulling us apart
Then you shrugged, like there was nothing more to add

I suppose you considered that
So romantic
Well, I just considered it sad

Perhaps you’re living in America now
Perhaps you’re in Timbuktu
A small part of me, even after this time
Has never stopped waiting for you
To live in this state of hoping
When hoping seems so utterly mad
I can’t help but consider that so romantic
Though I know I should consider it sad

The I is a quarter of me, and the You is another quarter. Or it used to be that way. Because things are different now, and I don’t want to be awfully tragic anymore; it’s exhausting. Nevertheless, when I first really listened to the lyrics, I remember thinking, Well, that’s just something familiar.

Anyway, it’s a sad song. And beautiful. Beautifully sad. Oh, and by the way, do you know the lyrics were written by Kazuo Ishiguro? Yeah.

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