Keenly aware of the power of the thirst trap, Charlie Puth has been baiting his fans for the better part of the year, with sly peeks at his underwear-clad life, and while there will always be those who criticize everything that everyone does, I’m not made about any of it. He’s the Dazzler of the Day thanks to his undying and contagious passion for music, and his cheeky way around social media. His newest album ‘CHARLIE’ is due this October (which is closer than we want to realize). Visit his official website here for further details.
“I’m not familiar with these angels…” ~ Joseph Abramo
The Abramo family has always been a quartet of angels in my life, so when Missy recounted a dream-like sequence of Joe’s opening angel comment, I cracked up for quite a long time. Such happy laughter was a constant during our annual Connecticut Summer Weekend pilgrimage to Southbury, where Julian and Cameron joined in the merry-making. Music was, as ever, a companion for the weekend, and the soundtrack for the occasion is neatly summed up by the light and carefree funk of Harry Styles and his new album opener, ‘Music for a Sushi Restaurant’.
This song set the tone for the fun weekend that was had by all, and I arrived to the sunny and peaceful planning going on by the little lotus pond, just in time to see the first lotus bloom of the season. It was an auspicious start to a weekend of relaxed serenity and old friends.
Joining in the air of calm festivities, a water lily emerged to add to the beauty of the weekend.
Along the path leading to the pool, wildflowers lended their own blooms to the season. The world around us had granted a floriferous atmosphere that collided with our joy and peace. There is something about visiting old friends that sets the soul at ease. It is its own form of meditative cleansing.
I took Julian and Cameron down to the pool for a quick dip (and a few games of find-the-bottle, which I would bring back to our pool when the twins visited next) before Missy and Joe joined us for some lounge time by the water. They have an idyllic home for a relaxing visit – no schedule, no pressure, no time crunch – and I relaxed into this little vacation with a grateful heart.
This has always been a place of tranquility, accented by echoes of the Buddha, and a natural beauty that Joe and Missy have emphasized in all the right ways. Whether contemplating the still and quiet calm of the water plants in the little pond or leafing through the books on Japanese gardens and water features, each corner offered a new opportunity for comfort. Bookended by the riotous action of boys in the full giddy glow of growing up, the weekend provided a little bit of all summer joys.
When the last petals of the lotus bloom fell, it was already time to depart – a departure made reluctantly, as it’s always hard to leave familiar angels. Perhaps we will schedule a fall return, to close out the season and start a new one…
Bewitching chanteuse Florence Welch, of Florence and the Machine, easily earns her first Dazzler of the Day crowning, thanks to her incandescent performances and whimsical style. The world needs more of such magic these days. She was also part of the ‘Here Lies Love’ concept album that would go on to become a sensational musical. Recently she’s been talking about being sober for seven years, further proof that some artists are much more than their art.
I break a sweat at the château
A party crowd that I don’t know
“La dolce vita” head to toe
I kiss a cheek to say hello
She takes a sip of champagne
It’s elegant, but not vain
She calls attention to her vein
And then she dives into my brain
Ahh, la dolce vita… and at the height of summer no less. It’s all happening… it’s all happening. July is here, and with it the very best parts of summer come to miraculous head. Some months are like that. They just fully explode into what they are, without hinting or teasing, and July is usually true to form.
Swimming pool summer
Gimme your number
Under your cover
I wanna take the heat
Making a daily jaunt in the pool to keep cool, as much as to keep calm, is a happy ritual. Like my daily meditation, it literally grounds me, binding me to the physical world, physically holding me in its liquid arms, and forcing an instant inhabitation of the present moment. Ignoring the power and might of water invites a peril I just won’t entertain.
She comes up for a breath
Fuck the rest, she’s the best
Her eyes are laser-beaming me
Suspending all reality
And just as soon as she smiles
She puts her sunglasses on
I haven’t felt this in a while
She breaks me down in style
Gliding peaceably through the water, taking languid and lazy strokes beneath the surface, the body is at once lightened of its usual gravitational pull. This may be the closest we can get to flying, and there is magic and majesty in such a state. So we fly, on the wings of water…
Swimming pool summer
Gimme your number
Under your cover
I wanna take the heat
Physical wonder
A sensual hunter
Under your cover
I can’t escape the heat
I can’t escape the heat
I can’t escape the heat
When I came to get you from your folks’ You said all I want to do is cry I don’t have time for any of your jokes You said all I want to do is cry They treat me like I’m made of gold All I want to do is cry All I want to do is cry
This is ‘Summer in July’ – about as simple and succinct as one can get, and just as sonically unchallenging. You can dive deeper into the lyrics if you like, or stay close to the surface and the sunlight. It’s your call.
I wish I could make you love me I wish I could make you a summer in July A summer in July A summer in July
Carefree and clothing-free, it’s time to let go of the swimsuit and let God’s natural attire slip through the pool water unfettered. Water, air, and light ~ primal and elemental and brilliant ~ breaking summer down into the most basic of basics.
We were driving home in my car You said nothing makes me feel no more So you opened up the passenger door And said all I want to do is die You treat me like I’m six years old All I want to do is die All I want to do is die
Every day after the first of summer loses a little light. We don’t feel it yet, but it’s happening. Summer can be insidious that way, summer knows how to sneak in and out at night. When I was a teenager, I’d slip out of the house on hot summer nights and walk around the neighborhood, feeling some sort of restlessness and wonder, something that wouldn’t be quelled or cooled by the air conditioner or the pool, or the glasses of iced tea that would sweat and drip before I could ever finish them.
On those walks, with the light of the street lamps shaded by the heavy canopy of maple trees and oaks – shadows beneath shadows – I found safety and security in the warm darkness, sure of myself and my solitude in a way that would comfort me on much colder days in the near and far future.
I wish I could make you love me I wish I could make you want me I wish a summer in July A summer in July Summer in July
There is perhaps no one who more fabulously encompasses the Dazzler of the Day crown than Adam Lambert. He’s been celebrated on this blog numerous times before today, because he’s been impressing audiences since he burst onto the world scene during his ‘American Idol’ run. Bold and brilliant and unabashedly himself at a time when the world wants to shun such visionary bravery, Lambert holds his head rightfully high, soaring on his insanely-talented vocal prowess and show-stopping theatrics. No one knows how to entertain and enthrall quite so electrifyingly. Check out his website here for further evidence of his brilliance, and where you might see him perform next.
There is a small sliver of irony in this summer song, given the fact that I no longer drink wine, but others do, and summer is definitely a time for enjoying liquid nourishment, even if mine doesn’t include alcohol. Mocktails work just as well, and are better for keeping hydrated anyway. Drama arrives in a song, and has no need for hard drinks to aid in its pesky, if occasionally exciting, madness.
Strawberries, cherries and an angel’s kiss in spring
My summer wine is really made from all these things
I walked in town on silver spurs that jingled to
A song that I had only sang to just a few
She saw my silver spurs and said let’s pass some time
And I will give to you summer wine
Oh, oh summer wine
Strawberries, cherries and an angel’s kiss in spring
My summer wine is really made from all these things
Take off your silver spurs and help me pass the time
And I will give to you summer wine
Oh, oh summer wine
My eyes grew heavy and my lips they could not speak
I tried to get up but I couldn’t find my feet
She reassured me with an unfamiliar line
And then she gave to me more summer wine
Oh, oh summer wine
The era of grand and elaborate summer parties has long since departed. These days we keep our gatherings to a minimum. Summer is more enjoyable that way, and somehow there is just as much excitement. All it takes is a song, a breeze, and a couple of candles to light the night.
Strawberries cherries and an angel’s kiss in spring
My summer wine is really made from all these things
Take off your silver spurs and help me pass the time
And I will give to you summer wine
Mmm-mm summer wine
When I woke up the sun was shining in my eyes
My silver spurs were gone, my head felt twice its size
She took my silver spurs, a dollar and a dime
And left me cravin’ for more summer wine
Oh, oh summer wine
The pool glows differently when viewed through the lens of darkness and night, not unlike the different glow one gets from summer wine. While that view has shifted for me, the thrill of a summer night remains the same. Beauty and heat and moths drawn by the light, and the possibility of a midnight dip to quell the sweat.
It was during the summer of 2000 when ‘How We Used to Live’ by Saint Etienne came pouring out of the speakers of my stereo in the Boston condo, and I was packing for a week in Provincetown. To this day, the song signifies summer days, happiness, friendship, and now a nostalgic look back at how things used to be. For the first day of summer, I usually like to look forward and see what new song might inspire the season – this year we’ve been through so much already that revisiting a sound of comfort seems best.
A rose scented June
A rose he pulled in June
They’re full upon the lawn
The doctor came at dawn
An old daily care
And Suzie Banana Stand
Through frosted windowpane
Your father’s middle name
From a train
And everywhere the snow falls
Sail away, sail away, sail away, sail away
‘How We Used to Live’ is a nine-minute rollercoaster of summer calm and excitement, from a magnificently languid beginning to a little lite dance party that begins to build and kick in at about the halfway mark. Summer ebbs and flows in similar fashion, never entirely one thing or another, constantly changing and winking and evolving. This year it feels especially variable, with hints and shadows of projects possibly to come, and the upcoming 20th anniversary of this website, for which preparations must be made.
A veil of faded blue
A Ruben’s old curfew
One windy winter’s day
A Windsor market day
People say
Everywhere the snow falls
Sail away, sail away, sail away, sail away
Sail away, sail away, sail away, sail away
She’s moving down the seaside
‘Cause that’s where he comes from
He gave away all of her records
Is that where she belongs?
Better think it through
Remember who
Is there something new?
Or is it you again?
Summer, oh summer, how we have waited for you, how much hope and faith we have put in you, and how unfair it all is, for who could ever deliver all that we have wanted and asked? Summer is cruel too, and often unintentionally brutal, but we still love it so. And when have we ever needed an escape more than now? Summer allows for that, and we shall make it happen. Whether it’s a lunch by the pool, with some sweet and fizzy mocktail, or a night in the attic loft, lulled to sleep by the hum of the air conditioner and the pitter-patter of rain upon the roof, summer carries its secret delights.
So take your red gown
And go down to the dam
To do as you please
On the streets of your town
The whistling kind
Shake it out of your mind
It could be the day
When you finally say
Sail away, sail away
Sail away, sail away, sail away
Sail away, on and on, on and on
On and on, on and on, on and on, on and on
Such secrets go back over two decades, when this song formed the soundtrack to that friend-filled trip to Provincetown. Kristen and I took the ferry from Boston to Provincetown, beginning a week’s vacation in that magical place at the end of the world. While I don’t revisit the past as a rule, I often go back to this trip. We were in our early twenties, the world unfurled before us filled with all the hope and possibility that youth and luck and privilege affords, and we didn’t even know or exert our power. Summer left us happily in flux, not quite entering our career years, though the more ambitious among us had their eyes on a plan (that most certainly did not include me, who was back in Boston after an ill-fated move to Chicago, and just finding my footing again). This little excursion was a break I needed, to simply have fun, maybe enjoy a summer fling, and return to the city satiated and ready to get serious about something. It was a summer to let go, and we did.
Up the riverbank and under the viaduct
Causeway full of nice cars
The sand a distant dream
Across the riverbank
Cross the riverbank, don’t look back
I sail, you sail
(And on and on)
(To sail away)
I sail, you sail
(And on and on)
(To sail away)
Those carefree days come back to me in pieces now – snippets of a sun-drenched brunch, sipping a cocktail before the choreographed precision of afternoon tea, and lazily laughing with friends on the porch of an inn as the clocks struck midnight and we debated rallying for pizza or heading back to crash. We had no way of knowing that the memories we were making then would prove, for me at least, to be some of the happiest and most carefree I would ever make. Most people don’t realize that sort of thing in their twenties. I felt hints of it, little tugs at the heart that something special was afoot, but back then my heart attributed it to the possibility of romance and love – it never dawned on me that those friendships, those in-between moments, were the real stuff of life.
And so another summer begins, as summers from the past flash across the mind. Summer in a song, summer in a glass, summer in the splash of water falling from a tip of grass as the morning dew jumps away for the day…
Do you remember how?
(And on and on)
(To sail away and on and on)
Do you remember how we used to live?
Do you remember how we used to live?
Do you remember how we used to live?
After a surprisingly intense therapy session, one needs a moment to process and simply breathe in the moment. There is always relief after talking about things, even if there is no simple solution. Sometimes it is enough to let it all out, and to be ok with not everything being neatly resolved, not every problem of the past put to bed for good. Most importantly, to be ok with putting certain problems to bed just for the night, just to make it through another day.
Summer starts off in such happy fashion, it’s good to appreciate these moments, even when they are tinged with slivers of sorrow, memories of melancholy. Such days need a proper soundtrack, and summer songs run the gamut from the happiest, boppiest bops to the slowest, saddest dirges. Some manage to create a sonic vibe and atmosphere that mirrors the suspended haze and heat of the season, functioning as both balm and barometer, a calming way to measure the minutes. This is one of those songs.
You can look at the menu, but you just can’t eat
You can feel the cushions, but you can’t have a seat
You can dip your foot in the pool, but you can’t have a swim
You can feel the punishment, but you can’t commit the sin
And you want her, and she wants you
We want everyone
And you want her and she wants you
No one, no one, no one ever is to blame
Summer begs forgiveness. Summer begs silence. Summer begs… and summer begs. Like its sting, its want can be paralyzing, stunning the world into focus or fracture.When that happens, you just have to chill, and slip into a song that embodies the days that can be languid and lazy and lovely.
You can build a mansion, but you just can’t live in it
You’re the fastest runner but you’re not allowed to win
Some break the rules, and let you count the cost
The insecurity is the thing that won’t get lost
And you want her, and she wants you
We want everyone
And you want her and she wants you
No one, no one, no one ever is to blame
Floating in the water, and surrounded by liquid that dispels the typical pull and drag of gravity, the body is more at ease. The mind is better-equipped to focus when the body is at ease. Sometimes summer grants a clarity that no other season allows; creating the space for contemplation can diminish a place for blame.
There is a conundrum to every season. For summer, it is often finding reconciliation of such tranquil beauty with the inevitable thunderstorms that pop up along the way. Memories can be like storms, lying in wait until the conditions are right for rain and release and, if we are lucky, relief.
You can see the summit but you can’t reach it
It’s the last piece of the puzzle but you just can’t make it fit
Doctor says you’re cured but you still feel the pain
Aspirations in the clouds but your hopes go down the drain
And you want her, and she wants you
We want everyone
And you want her and she wants you
No one, no one, no one ever is to blame
Once upon a time I was anal and adamant about definitive dates when it came to things like the start of summer. Over the past few years, I’ve softened and become much more flexible, and the ease of summer has taught me that. This song kicks off our unofficial summer season here at ALANILAGAN.com, and I absolutely love its easy-going vibe.
Sometimes you feel like you’re the only one To hold on for better days to come And when it seems like all is said and done Just hold on for better days to come
Along with the easing of strict delineation comes an easing of the posting schedule, as well as the content of the posts themselves. I just don’t want to stay behind a computer screen when the outside calls. These are the better days.
The brilliant and wondrous Janelle Monáe planted the seed of Les Baxter in my ear as the soundtrack for the coming summer, and whatever Janelle says is what we are bound to do. Being that Andy just opened the pool and I had my first dip just a couple of days ago, this intro seems fitting for the summer to come, and these first pool days of the season.
There’s a dramatic and cinematic moodiness to this music that sets the scene for the mad world in which we live – and that madness only seems to intensify with the heat and sun and storms weather that can come with the approach of summer.
For the moment, I’m content to watch from a distance, to lean into the drama only when watching a movie or reading a book – all fiction and fun and frivolous mental meanderings. Life is serious enough these days – I don’t indulge in the self-conjured drama and fabricated travails when there are so many real things over which to worry and fret. And so I take a warm and sunny day as the gift it is, embracing its beauty, inhaling its sweet perfume, and leaving this online world behind. Back in a bit…
A person with such insouciant charm and magnetism deserves to have their names in all caps, and today we honor JORDY as Dazzler of the Day thanks to his creative talent and transfixing personality. His website offers more enchantment for those seeking to solve his mysteries, and he was recently announced as one of the headliners for this year’s Capital Pride Festival in Albany. His music, filled with catchy hooks and pop melodies, focuses on love and loneliness, giving listeners just a little bit more to chew on than your average pop song.
It was Easter week 1993, and somehow Suzie and I found ourselves on a train from New York to Florida for a questionable visit to Disneyworld. That two teenagers at the height of their cynicism and moodiness should be taking an overnight train ride to Florida, and the purported happiest place on earth, is the height of improbability, if not downright foolishness, but there we were.
Sweetheart
The sun has set
All red and primitive above our heads
Blood stained on an ageless sky
Wipe your tears and let the salt stains dry
Let them all run dry
All run dry
Suzie is the ideal traveling companion for me, as she and I know each other very well. Most importantly, we know when to leave the other alone, which is really the key to any successful relationship or friendship. Thankfully there would be just one or two moments when we needed that alone time – the rest of the time we were helping each other though such a trip at that particular point in our teenage lives. Nowhere was that more evident than on the long-ass train ride, which forms the memory of this post. The aural backdrop playing on my headphones was Annie Lennox’s brilliant ‘Diva’ album (which just celebrated its 30th anniversary, so that’s how far back we are going here). The track ‘Primitive’ soothed the gentle rumble of the train as the middle of the night arrived and our car flickered with only an occasional night-light. Outside, the amber lights of the tracks whizzed by overhead. It was a moment in time stilled by this song.
Sweetheart
Take me to bed
That’s where all our prayers are said
Whispered silent in the night
That’s how all our dreams take flight
Let them all go by
All go by
At that moment, I think both Suzie and I wanted to be just about anywhere else, and nowhere else at the same time. The agitated conundrum of a typical teenager, when nothing felt typical or normal. We sat across from each other, back in those days when there was space between seats, when people weren’t all crammed uncomfortably on top of each other. At such a young age, I could have slept anywhere, but even with that ease and luxury, my sleep on that ride was less than ideal. We passed the time talking and listening to music, and I did a lot of writing for a project I was working on for English class. I didn’t realize it at the time, but that project would be the first of many.
For time will catch us in both hands
To blow away like grains of sand
Ashes to ashes rust to rust
This is what becomes of us
As our train rolled through the night, amid fits of sleep and wake, we seemed to be leaving the cold gray world of upstate New York in April as the outside grew greener and more temperate. When morning arrived, the landscape was already different than when we had left, and I felt different too. It was a rare realization of change as it was in the process of happening. I wouldn’t get many of those moments, so I leaned into it, wondering what it meant, wondering what was in store for us.
Sweetheart
Send me to sleep
Pray to God our hopes to keep
Take our fears and make us strong
Lead us to where we belong
And let it all go by
All go by
Two days and thirty two years ago, one of the most influential songs in my life was released: ‘Vogue’ by Madonna. The deep dive of that Madonna timeline goes into how it played out in the decades of my life, so I won’t bore you with such details. Instead, let’s go back to basics and recall the first few times I heard it playing on the radio.
Spring had just begun, and as ‘Hold On’ began a similar chart trajectory, ‘Vogue’ spoke more intently to me. Back then a new song crept slowly into the public realm. There was no immediate downloading of a song, no leaks of snippets or early versions, no Tik Tok or Instagram story proving previews for weeks beforehand – and the patience and surprise that were culled from such slow-moving musical motion resulted in a more resonant and meaningful experience. ‘Vogue’ became my dance bible. More than that, ‘Vogue’ became the portal into a future that I sensed but couldn’t yet hold in my hands, no matter how many times I could strike a pose.
Thirty two years later, I still feel the thrill of its power.
While Friday nights are my quiet favorites, the fully-fleshed-out sprawl of an entire Saturday carries a fortitude of rejuvenation that no single night can conquer. Kira and I awoke to a sunny start, but we stayed in bed for a bit as Cafe Madeleine was closed until March. Looking back, that moment of morning passed quickly, too quickly, and so a melancholy song, sent to me by the universe later on in the day, will back our remaining little adventures. It’s entitled ‘Evergreen’ and is by Alexander Walk.
Take up a quiet place
Deep in my mind
Wait till I’m far away
Then pull me inside
Evergreen
Waiting for me
Evergreen
Waiting for me
A wind-ravaged landscape required an early bowl of pho to warm our bellies, so we made our way to Chinatown, and a table for two at Pho Pasteur. Sipping soup with Kira is one of winter’s best past-times, a tradition which has seen us through the darkest seasons. It felt like we were putting another winter to slumber soon. I wanted to slow the day and still the moment, but I couldn’t. Not by putting it into words, not by freezing it in a photograph. Not even by making a song into a memory.
Funeral, follow me
I smile with pride
Make you my enemy
But stay by your side
Evergreen
Waiting for me
Evergreen
Waiting for me
The relentless passing of time, and the way it only builds and builds in speed and forgetfulness… these were the rough facts of our age and our present predicament. Where once we carried purses of pretty bracelets, we now place daily allotments of pills and prescriptions. For hypertension, for vitamin-deficiencies, for immunity – as much for our mental ease as for our physical comfort. What a strange new world, this getting older…
So months and months go by
Still you find your time
Slip in through my bedroom wall
Travel down my spine
Wait until midnight
Then I saw you standing there
Evergreen
Waiting for me
Evergreen
Waiting for me
Before we headed back to the condo for our blessed afternoon siesta, I saw this little sticker with a QR Code, and a dancing trio of bears, and it brought me to this song. The universe whispers its music to you if you slow down and wait for its quiet clues.
This ‘Evergreen’ is a fitting little song that closes out a winter weekend in Boston with bear and flair and a very good friend whom I now miss. Just a few more weeks until the clock ticks into spring, when we shall return to this special city for a whole new season of adventures and fun.
Guess I still miss you girl
Guess I still miss you girl
Guess I still miss you girl
Guess I still miss you
