The owner of the house we are renting made it clear the house was meant to facilitate access to the past. She showed us the kitchen, which contains the "icebox" from the early part of the twentieth century , the original wallpaper, now streaked and faded, the ceiling and walls with cracks showing through. There are beautiful cloth hangings in many places in the house, from Tahiti, and many tall ancient wooden icons, some with faces, the one in this room a carving of a early clown or circus figure in a tin man type hat, wooden figures distributed here and there, a hanging from the ceiling of twigs and painted eggshells, an old display case full of seashells, a gorgeous nineteenth century ornate metal hanging lamp, a dark medieval style table with dark leather slung chairs around it, and few shells spread around the center of the table. A small table with a plaster head of a man and some framed pictures in front of a picture window. The place is redolant of the thirties and forties. Since we got here, Toni has taken to playing early jazz, some by her father, the jazz saxophonist Bill Simon, and lately Billy Holiday, the unforgettable torch singer. Toni is named for her godfather Tony Scott, the clarinetist best known for playing behind her and with Charlie Parker. One song by Billy keeps repeating in my mind and today I played it again and again, thinking it wasn't long ago that I was more in the mood for Joni Mitchell, as were a few other bloggers I know. Early this evening, Toni was half sleeping draped across the couch while I sat nearby on an ancient rocking chair while Billy Holiday sang to us, the newish stereo system atop the the dark wood cabinet from an antique record player, the summer wind blowing in through the garden door:
"You go to my head and you linger like a haunting refrain and I find you spinning round in my brain like the bubbles in a glass of champagne...
You go to my head like a sip of sparkling Burgundy brew and I find the very mention of you like the kicker in a julip or two...the thrill of the thought that you might give a thought to my plea casts a spell over me...'Till I say to myself, "Get a hold of yourself, can't you see that it can never can be?"...You go to my head with a smile that makes my temperature rise, like a summer with a thousand Julys, you intoxicate my soul with your eyes...Tho' I'm certain that this heart of mine hasn't a ghost of a chance in this crazy romance, you go to my head, you go to my head..."
You Go To My Head (S.Simons-G. Marks)
Recorded in New York on March 21,1941
Shad Collins-trumpet Leslie Johnakins, Eddie Barfield- alto saxophones Eddie Heywood- piano John Collins- guitar Ted Sturgis string bass Kenny Clarke- drums Billy Holiday-vocal
All of Me/You Go To My Head/Until The Real Thing Comes Along/ My Man/The Very Thought of You/Easy Living/They Can't Take That Away From Me/I've Got My Love To Keep Me Warm/Them There Eyes/Night and Day/The Man I Love/Me, Myself and I/The Way You Look Tonight/ If You Were Mine/I can"t Believe That You're In Love With Me/Let's Do It