Songbird Salutes the 70's
If it seems like I've been lost in let's remember . . .
Yeah, I know, I've been focusing on the 70's a lot lately.
But I am trying to figure out how the dark-haired rebel whose music enchanted me has become the bearded, distinguished, professorial gentleman whose music still delights me.
Well, we all have a face that we hide away forever, and we take them out and show ourselves when everyone has gone . . .
The music, the cover art. I can see the album covers in my head. I played the vinyl on the stereo in my basement. The cassette tapes and my portable cassette player found a home in my dorm room. I listened late at night, through headphones. . .
I've got the old man's car, I've got a jazz guitar, I've got a tab at Zanzibar . . .
Funny, I never fell in love with him, never put a picture of him on my wall, never imagined myself married to him. Didn't scream when he was on TV. He was no teen idol.
He was better.
When you look into my eyes and you see the crazy gypsy in my soul. . .
He was brash, he was rebellious, he was cool.
There's a place in the world for the angry young man, with his working class ties and his radical plan . . .
And he was one of us. A suburban kid and not afraid to tell us so. But one who loved NYC.
I've seen the lights go out on Broadway, I saw the ruins at my feet. You know we almost didn't notice it. We'd seen it all the time on 42nd Street . . .
And there was that song. His signature song. He still closes every concert with it, all these years later.
Sing us a song, you're the Piano Man
Sing us a song tonight
Well we're all in the mood for a melody
And you've got us feeling alright.
And on January 27, at Madison Square Garden, I will get to hear that song live and in person.
Yeah, I know, I've been focusing on the 70's a lot lately.
But I am trying to figure out how the dark-haired rebel whose music enchanted me has become the bearded, distinguished, professorial gentleman whose music still delights me.
Well, we all have a face that we hide away forever, and we take them out and show ourselves when everyone has gone . . .
The music, the cover art. I can see the album covers in my head. I played the vinyl on the stereo in my basement. The cassette tapes and my portable cassette player found a home in my dorm room. I listened late at night, through headphones. . .
I've got the old man's car, I've got a jazz guitar, I've got a tab at Zanzibar . . .
Funny, I never fell in love with him, never put a picture of him on my wall, never imagined myself married to him. Didn't scream when he was on TV. He was no teen idol.
He was better.
When you look into my eyes and you see the crazy gypsy in my soul. . .
He was brash, he was rebellious, he was cool.
There's a place in the world for the angry young man, with his working class ties and his radical plan . . .
And he was one of us. A suburban kid and not afraid to tell us so. But one who loved NYC.
I've seen the lights go out on Broadway, I saw the ruins at my feet. You know we almost didn't notice it. We'd seen it all the time on 42nd Street . . .
And there was that song. His signature song. He still closes every concert with it, all these years later.
Sing us a song, you're the Piano Man
Sing us a song tonight
Well we're all in the mood for a melody
And you've got us feeling alright.
And on January 27, at Madison Square Garden, I will get to hear that song live and in person.
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