Without a Song (1983)

Another Booker T. Jones produced album, this time with Willie’s road band and Booker T. on piano and Julio Iglesias guesting on vocals on one track. This is no Stardust (but then what is?). Willie has to be kicking himself wondering what it was that made Stardust so special. Why couldn’t he easily recapture that sound on another album? “Without a song, the day would never end…the road would never bend…a man ain’t got a friend without a song.” Art, in this case music, alone helps us make it through life. It is our only faithful friend and solace. Why? Because it alone transcends time. It alone gives our lives an arc, a narrative shape, closure. There “Ain’t no love at all without a song.” You can’t even have love without art. Even love needs art to help it escape from the clutches of time.

“Once in a While” suggests the ever-present Willie theme of time. “If love still can remember, the spark may burn again. I know that I’ll be contented with yesterday’s memory knowing you think of me once in a while.” Memories of your love, even fleeting memories, stay me against the ravages of time. My only bulwark.

And then, of course, “Autumn Leaves.” Willie’s always singing of September. Who sings of spring leaves? “I miss you most of all…when autumn leaves start to fall.” Why does autumn stir up memories more than any other season? Why is it the most nostalgic season? Memory and death seem connected. Willie’s vocals are strong, but the London Symphony Orchestra is killing me. “I can’t tell you how happy I would be if I could speak my mind like others do.” It’s the oldest sentiment in the book. “You were always on my mind.” In other words, I loved you perfectly in theory. I loved you perfectly without words, and yet, who wants to be loved this way? What is love without words? Mickey Raphael isn’t listed in the liner notes, but it must be him on harmonica trying to save each song from the strings. “Harbor Lights” get Willie’s tears starting again. “You were on the ship and I was on the shore,” like Gatsby staring at the light on Daisy’s dock. Lights and leaves are just symbols of memory and nostalgia. Willie goes flamenco, as he is wont to do, with “Golden Earrings.” He hopes these magic golden earrings will make his gypsy love eternal. A gypsy is by definition always on the road, fleeting, evanescent, and yet Willie somehow longs for a paradoxically stay-at-home gypsy. A gypsy who will be true, who won’t gyp him the way time does.

“You’ll Never Know” how much Willie loves you because his love is all in his head. You’re always on his mind, but never on his tongue. Funny how writers and singers always sing and write about how they don’t have the words to express their love. They only have the words to express how they don’t have the words. So much time and so many words to say how we can’t find the words. If we could find the words, ironically, we’d have so much less to say. Our speechlessness leads to more speech. I’m actually speechless, for the first time, after listening to “To Each His Own.” Musically and lyrically, it leaves me unresponsive, without a song. “As Time Goes By” we grasp for it like fireflies for our jar, and yet it always slips away. Funny how time slips away, how it goes by. “You must remember this.” Even Julio can’t save this album. I just can’t “climb aboard a butterfly” with Willie on “A Dreamer’s Holiday.” The syrup is a bit too thick on this collection of standards. One of the definitions of sentimentality is emotion that is not warranted, not believable, not earned. I don’t feel like Willie means these songs the way he meant the songs on Stardust. I think those truly were his favorite songs, and he just can’t mean these songs as much as he meant those. “Time there’s plenty of,” but not enough to spend it on this album when Willie has dozens that deserve much more.