Lessons in Love


Since I’ve got time on my hands these days, I’ve been re-organizing my shelves and making the big move to getting rid of my CD and DVD cases and putting them all in neat little sleeves. Thank you Muji! You wouldn’t believe the amount of shelf space I have now. But I had to preserve the best liner notes I’ve ever read and have painstakingly transcribed them for your pleasure:
“How should I sing this?”
“Like a 16 year old girl who’s been dating a 40 year old man, but it’s all over now.”

She looks good, dresses good, lives good, eats, drinks, loves, breathes, dances, sings, cries good. Five foot three and tiger eyes. A mouth made for lollipops or kisses, Stingers or melting smiles. Ninety-five pounds of affection.

She’s been there already. Barely in her twenties, she looks younger. That look, like Lolita Humbert, like Daisy Clover. The power to exalt, or to destroy, wanting only the former, but unafraid to invoke the latter if the time comes.

The eyes that see through, know more, look longer. Unafraid to pull on the boots again, toss off a burnt out thing with a casual, “So long, babe,” and get.

A young fragile living thing, on it’s own in a wondrous-wicked-woundup-wasted-wild-worried-wisedup-warmbodied world. On her own. Earning her daily crepes and Cokes by singing the facts of love. Her voice tells as much as her songs. No faked up grandure, her voice is like it is: a little tired, little put down, a lot of loving.

No one is born sophisticated. It’s a place you have to crawl to, crawling out of hayseed country, over miles of unsanded pavement, past Trouble, past corners and forks with no auto club signs to point you, till you get there and you wake up wiser.

She’s arrived. She sings you about the long crawl. And she makes you have to listen.

She’s there.

– Stan Cornyn (original liner notes 1966) 
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