Sitting on the deck under the Southern Cross right now and not going to make an entry about that great, though overplayed song. King Curtis came up on random (probably because I played this tune entirely too much over the past week) and I felt the need to head back to reality and from my humble Costa Rican cabaña. "A Whiter Shade of Pale" might be one of the most famous songs ever, especially in the UK and Europe. I have loved it ever since I first heard that Bach inspired Hammond organ intro after Nick Nolte hits the play button in Life Lessons. Like Costello's "Allison" the paradox of the song is that it is so short you want more and more however it is that briefness that contributes to its attraction. This King Curtis version sans lyrics could go on for hours and hours, actually it has because I kept it on repeat for an entire day yesterday. I wish I didn't have to, I wish it was a solid forty-five minute opus, a battle between organ and sax.
Regardless of its elapsed time King Curtis lets you know (since most people don't know his name, the fact that he played for Buddy Holly as well as The Coasters and Aretha Franklin) why you should now remember his motherfuckingname. There's a ton of soul buried down in that frame and permating out of his skin and mouth in the form of sweat and notes.
The meaning of the lyrics of this song have been heavily debated for some time, I guess that is what happens when over 900 artist have covered it throughout the years. The standard is always mentioned: Drugs. However Keith Reid viehemtally denies any type of substance being the topic of the song, saying that it is simply a boy leaves girl story (...and maybe the reason why Scorsese used it in Life Lessons; watch it). Up until I read Keith's interview years ago I would have never thought this work could be about such a sober (literally) experience. It makes sense:
We skipped a light fandango,
Turned cartwheels 'cross the floor.
I was feeling kind of seasick,
But the crowd called out for more.
The room was humming harder,
As the ceiling flew away.
When we called out for another drink,
The waiter brought a tray.
And so it was that later,
As the miller told his tale,
That her face at first just ghostly,
Turned a whiter shade of pale.
She said there is no reason,
And the truth is plain to see
That I wandered through my playing cards,
And would not let her be
One of sixteen vestal virgins
Who were leaving for the coast.
And although my eyes were open,
They might just as well have been closed.
And so it was later,
As the miller told his tale,
That her face at first just ghostly,
Turned a whiter shade of pale.
The reason why I go into the lyrical side of this song when the version of topic has none is because if one heard King Curtis's first there would never be a doubt of what the topic was. The Sax brings to life a side not seen on Procol Harum's somewhat disconnected ditty, it brings in a gentleness rarely displayed in songs written about addiction or even drugs without the dragon.
"Sister Morphine", "Purple Haze", "White Rabbits", "China Cat Sunflower" "Fire and Rain", Sunday Morning Coming Down", "Ashes to Ashes", "Heroin", "The Needle and the Damage Done", "Dumb", "Life in the Fast Lane"....the list is endless, some might be fast and some depressingly slow; they all are legends of Rock but compare any of these to a song about a lost love and anyone could see there is no comparison between the two.
Usually music follows life, not just lyrically but in the harmony and tonality, more so in the latter. Just as love in life can never be truly captured with words this piece is a perfect example of how music can clear up any confusion about meanings and translations. The invention of music by our ancestors, whether they were whales mating or prehistoric man beating bones on rocks preceded our vocabulary for in-depth conversation. It should be no surprise that those emotions felt by our ancestors and still felt by us cannot be defined by strict rules and gramattical constraints.
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