Moon River

Moon River is one of those songs that grows on you over the decades. Written by Henry Mancini and Johnny Mercer for the 1961 film Breakfast at Tiffany's, it's a wistful, romantic ballad about longing, dreams, and the pursuit of freedom. In the film it's sung by Audrey Hepburn as Holly Golightly, but it's had many covers that were equally transcendant. The lyrics evoke a journey of self-discovery and hope, with the "river" perhaps symbolizing life's unpredictable path shrouded by a light misty haze. 

The song reflects Holly's yearning for a better, more authentic life beyond her transient, glamorous facade, capturing themes of wanderlust, companionship ("my huckleberry friend"), and the search for belonging. Its gentle melody and poetic lyrics convey universal emotions of aspiration and vulnerability. 

The film itself (Breakfast at Tiffany's, 1961), is based on Truman Capote's novella of the same name. Audrey Hepburn as Holly Golightly is a glamorous but enigmatic young woman in New York City who lives a carefree, socialite lifestyle while hiding her past as a runaway. She befriends Paul Varjak, a struggling writer and her new neighbor, who becomes captivated by her charm and mystery. As their relationship deepens, Holly’s guarded nature and pursuit of wealth clash with her desire for genuine connection. The story explores themes of identity, freedom, and love, culminating in Holly’s emotional journey toward self-acceptance, set against the backdrop of 1960s Manhattan. 

Reading and writing about this song makes me want to revisit the film, to see it with fresh eyes. May it one day come to pass.

* * *  

Meanwhile, here are three versions of the song--one by Audrey Hepburn from the film, a nice rendition by Elton John and a Frank Sinatra version after the lyrics.

Audrey Hepburn

Elton John

Moon river, wider than a mile

I'm crossing you in style someday  

Oh dream maker, you heartbreaker  

Wherever you're goin', I'm goin' your way 

Two drifters off to see the world

There's such a lot of world to see

We're after the same rainbow's end

Waitin' round the bend

My huckleberry friend

Moon river and me

Sinatra

Moon photo by Rui Marinho on Unsplash

Send In The Clowns

On Monday when I wrote about the Top Ten Songs of All Time, I went to YouTube to find examples of a few of the songs by female vocalists to link to and share. When it came to Judy Collins I had a hard time with my decision, but upon finding Send in The Clowns I decided to share this song as a separate blog entry.

I encountered difficulty when I tried to decide which version of the song to present here, the version Collins recorded or the one she performed live with the Boston Pops. But then, I noticed all the other performers who had a go at it and felt there were others worth sharing as well.

The song comes from the 1973 musical A Little Night Music. It's a ballad in which the central character Desiree reflects on the ironies and disappointments of her life.

The song has been recorded or performed by numerous artists. If you have time, I'd like you to listen to a number of these versions (you can find links below after the lyrics) and compare them. Most are female vocalists, but this intro by Old Blue Eyes was especially poignant:

"This is a song about a couple of adult people who have spent, oh, quite a long time together, till one day one of 'em gets restless and decides to leave. Whether it's the man or woman who left is unimportant. It's a breakup... It's a lovely marriage of words and music, written by Stephen Sondheim."

Send In The Clowns

Isn't it rich?
Are we a pair?
Me here at last on the ground,
You in mid-air.
Send in the clowns.

Isn't it bliss?
Don't you approve?
One who keeps tearing around,
One who can't move.
Where are the clowns?
Send in the clowns.

Just when I'd stopped opening doors,
Finally knowing the one that I wanted was yours,
Making my entrance again with my usual flair,
Sure of my lines,
No one is there.

Don't you love farce?
My fault I fear.
I thought that you'd want what I want.
Sorry, my dear.
But where are the clowns?
Quick, send in the clowns.
Don't bother, they're here.

Isn't it rich?
Isn't it queer,
Losing my timing this late
In my career?
And where are the clowns?
There ought to be clowns.
Well, maybe next year.

Stephen Sondheim, winner of more Tony awards than any other composer, explained the intent of the song like this: I get a lot of letters over the years asking what the title means and what the song's about; I never thought it would be in any way esoteric. I wanted to use theatrical imagery in the song, because she's an actress, but it's not supposed to be a circus [...] [I]t's a theater reference meaning "if the show isn't going well, let's send in the clowns"; in other words, "let's do the jokes." I always want to know, when I'm writing a song, what the end is going to be, so "Send in the Clowns" didn't settle in until I got the notion, "Don't bother, they're here", which means that "We are the fools."

Here's Frank Sinatra's version of the song, which I felt most heartbreaking.

I listened next to Dame Judi Densch and Barbara Streisand, but when I heard Shirley Bassey it seemed these felt pale. If you are unfamiliar with Shirley Bassey,

Many Americans may not know who Shirley Bassey is, a Welsh singer who was very popular in England. Most Americans, however are more than familiar with her pipes, as she delivered to us the very famous soundtrack title song for Goldfinger, as well as Diamonds Are Forever and Moonraker.

Here is one of several wonderful versions of Shirley Bassey performing Send In The Clowns.

And finally, as a closer, here is Bernadette Peters performing a simple, most elegant version with Stephen Sondheim himself on piano. Oh so beautiful.

Thank you, Mr. Sondheim.

Q

"Imagine what a harmonious world it could be if every single person, both young and old shared a little of what he is good at doing." ~Quincy Jones

79 Grammy nominations, 27 Grammys… yet still not entirely a household name. What’s with that?

When Michael Jackson’s Thriller hit the scene, it might have been Jackson’s name on the marquee, but without doubt Quincy Jones, his producer/arranger, helped put him there. In fact, his whole career has been one of cheerfully adjusting the spotlights that shone on other performers, to put them in their best light.

We all remember the charity performance of superstars assembled for “We Are The World”, but few recall that it was Quincy Jones who produced and arranged the assemblage of superegos, and made it work. Who among us does not recall the shocking In Cold Blood, yet few know that Jones produced the score that set the tone.

Q, The Autobiography of Quincy Jones, is an anecdotally rich portrait of a creative genius and good natured soul who made good in America against heavy odds. If you want an inside look at the black experience mid-century, read Q. If you want an ringside seat as the jazz scene came to full flower, read Q. If you want up close and personal stories about what it takes to rise above circumstances and achieve success beyond one's dreams, this book reveals that, too.

I only have one Frank Sinatra CD, the Quincy Jones produced L.A. Is My Lady. The arrangements are stellar, making it possible for the elder statesman crooner to shine. Jones is the catalyst, setting the stage, the mood, the lights, never drawing attention to himself but serving to make every moment count. I was listening to it last as I tried my hand at painting the pictures of Jones here.

Here’s a little serendipitous note: the night before I was watching Rear Window, the Hitchcock thriller starring Jimmy Stewart and Grace Kelly. Few know that it was Princess Grace (Kelly) who introduced Quincy Jones to Frank Sinatra in 1958 in Monaco.

In the fifties Jones played with nearly all the greats, from Lionel Hampton to Dizzy Gillespie, Count Basie, Duke Ellington and Ray Charles. The second half of that serendipitous note is that I am currently watching Ray, the biographic overview of one amazing musician, and in an early scene the two cross paths in Seattle.

It’s a brief encounter here in the film, but in the book , Jones makes it out to be a significant moment for him. His desire is to make music, but to some extent he’s unsure of his prospects. Suddenly, this blind kid (and Ray was just a kid, not even 16) shows up in town, having crossed the country from Alabama, knowing no one, yet establishing himself in a foreign community. At this Quincy Jones wondered what was holding him back.

Quincy Jones has been part of our lives in ways we didn't even know. Today, let’s give a big hand to da man. Thank you, Quincy Jones, wherever you are, for your perpetual optimism and style.