We are so tired of the heat.
Poor people weary of life and circumstances.
And yet - exhausted by themselves.
Now the heat, and soon the summer itself will have a little rest from us.
And we will tell each other, stretching sweetly and looking out the windows at the pouring impenetrable rains, how good it is when it is warm and dry and you don’t need to put on so much on yourself, and in general ... and all sorts of other things.
We can't please.
The universe doesn't even try.
Wandering through the cooling Moscow and my own thoughts, I caught myself the day before yesterday that here it is (according to the forecast), the very last truly summer day, and it would be good to celebrate it as an unprecedented something, as a hymn to all living and being ...
But wherever there is vanity.
This is necessary and this is necessary.
Everything is necessary, and nothing else seems to be there.
And it struck me so much that I remembered a nice song from the album Ella and Louis Again.
Very old record.
Double album by Verve Records, released in 1957.
It seems to be nothing special - Fitzgerald and Armstrong, quite on the wave of success, with some (in full measure it will come to them in ten years) the realization that they can sing just for their pleasure, record 19 jazz standards.
In the summer, from July 23 to August 13, 1957. Together with the trio of Oscar Peterson, the one powerful as a grizzly bear. They also said about him: "At the piano it becomes weightless, like a feather in the wind." On the double bass - Ray Brown, accurate in every sound, in every touch of the instrument. Herb Ellis on guitar, a great virtuoso, adding his spoonful of white (with a constant touch of country - no weed out) to two spoonfuls of black from Brown and Peterson.
Nice company in the studio of no less pleasant Norman Granz, founder and mastermind of Verve Records, and later Pablo Records.
It was thanks to him, Granz, who did not care about the American establishment and its laws, that the first "mixed" concerts of white and black musicians were held for white and black audiences.
The damn stubborn man once stood for half an hour with a police officer's pistol gently pressed to his stomach, stubbornly convincing the cop that "black jazzmen could well ride in taxis for white ... jazzmen."
Desperate guy.
He lived to be 83 years old.
God adores the insane.
So what song did I remember?
That's about this - Let's Call the Whole Thing Off.
Two lovers are bickering on any of the reasons, a beautiful play on words and social positions, one from childhood used to speak this way, the other differently, and childhood - it is different for everyone in the free world.
But the point, of course, is not at all in habits, but in the fact that sometimes we are not ready to abandon them, even the most senseless and banal ones.
And only great love ...
Things have come to a pretty pass
Our romance is growing flat,
For you like this and the other
While I go for this and that,
Goodness knows what the end will be
Oh I don't know where I'm at
It looks as if we two will never be one
Something must be done ...
As you guessed, this is me for "the last fine summer day."
Maybe he was not the last one the day before yesterday, but he was very glorious, and it was so good in him - if not for the damn endless affairs and endless disputes with himself and with badly arranged reality ...
You say either and I say either,
You say neither and I say neither
Either, either neither, neither
Let's call the whole thing off ...
To the gallery page
And yet there is in us a spark of the universal.
In the face of authenticity (I’m again about love, with which it is both useless and senseless to fight), we somehow internally gather, group, become (at least seemingly and temporarily) better and with sweet voices hum in the ear of the one and only: “ Everything as you want! .. "
Hmm.
We are strange.
Humans.
You like potato and I like potahto
You like tomato and I like tomahto
Potato, potahto, tomato, tomahto.
Let's call the whole thing off
But oh, if we call the whole thing off
Then we must part
And oh, if we ever part, then that might break my heart! ..
And our strange, human world.
We divide each other into black and white.
On the stupid and brave ... And most often we listen to music, without even thinking about who sings there and how things were in the studio - what if her dress was out of tune with her shoes or the bassist had a booger in his nose, and the notes were turned over sweaty hands, and even after burgers? ..
Norman Grantz (music producer and promoter from God) was good at clearing the mind of the listener.
Here's the music.
Here you are.
What else is needed?
Jazz records (literally all albums) of Verve Records are transparent and full of inner harmony, self-sufficient and are a thing in themselves - no matter how much you put on the player, something new will be found.
So it is in love.
So it is in the Summer of the Almighty, and in its August: here is the wind and the sun, here are your feelings - what else?
A Fine Romance is another wondrous thing from the double album of Ella and Louis.
And there are the following words at the end of the funny and sad text:
True love should have the thrills
That a healthy crime has
Oh we don't have half the thrills
That The March of Time has !!!
That would be the case for us.
Forgetting all the nonsense.
Which only interferes with life.
Especially in August.
The point of view of the author may not coincide with the position of the editorial board.