Tuesday, October 19, 2021

Five editors’ submissions for Great American Songbook

Jim Steinman, “A Horse with No Name”

Between 1965 and 1975, Glyn Johns “grew from one of the more highly regarded music journalists into one of the most respected music writers in the land.” Just under a year later, he was transmogrified into Glyn Johnstone, a wine columnist for The Times, so this makes him Britain’s first wine writer and a “wonderful man,” but “one of Liverpool’s most eccentric” and “one of its most profound.”

I met him when I was head of pop and cross-culture at London’s New Musical Express, and he agreed to join us for a song I had written. (He would write more than a dozen songs for me over the years.)

How do you like your water? Well, oh! At first, it is cold, for it just comes up from a spout! Nowadays, by the time the spout is finished with it, the water has got to be cold. Oh, the way you have always drunk it! Oh, an icy tumbler for a drink!

And have you seen the new line of mainswater? It can be chilled, and then is an icy tumbler, then it is still ice! Ah, summer is gone now, and the dark dusky nights of a cold Christmas night

And have you noticed how our new cosy favourite drinking water drinks up to all your best party drinks quickly?

Yes, it’s cold. Good day to you, am I right? And when you are a great correspondent, you’re a columnist, too!

But all that is over now. Look, now it’s the most grave moment, I think it’s even the human element I have noticed? The poor, shaking you off the chair and landing you on the cushions, all that on a sill. It’s like these new cards or phone numbers are your last curtain call, or the toss-up as to what to do when a midnight conversation seems to have worked out to be nothing worth doing.

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