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Sinéad O'Connor: Am I not Your Girl?

 A l b u m   D e t a i l s


Label: Ensign Records
Released: 1992.09.22
Time:
 47:51
Category: Pop/Rock
Producer(s): Phil Ramobe, Sinéad O'Connor
Rating: ****...... (4/10)
Media type: CD
Web address: www.sinead-oconnor.com
Appears with:
Purchase date: 2008.02.22
Price in €: 9,99



 S o n g s ,   T r a c k s


[1] Why Don't You Do Right? (J.McCoy/M.Chappell) - 2:30
[2] Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered (I.Hart/R.Rodgers/W.Chappell) - 6:15
[3] Secret Love (S.Fain/F.Webster/W.Chappell) - 2:56
[4] Black Coffee (S.Burke/F.Webster) - 3:21
[5] Success Has Made a Failure of Our Home ( J.Mullins/S.O'Connor) - 4:29
[6] Don't Cry for Me Argentina (Lloyd Webber/T.Rice) - 5:39
[7] I Want to Be Loved by You (B.Kalmar/H.Ruby,/H.Stothart) - 2:45
[8] Gloomy Sunday (L.Javor/Lewis/R.Seress) - 3:56
[9] Love Letters (E.Heyman/V.Young) - 3:07
[10] How Insensitive (V.De Moraes/Gimbel/A.C.Jobim) - 3:28
[11] Scarlet Ribbons (E.Danzig/J.Segal) - 4:14
[12] Don't Cry for Me Argentina [instrumental] (Lloyd Webber/T.Rice) - 5:10

 A r t i s t s ,   P e r s o n n e l


Sinéad O'Connor - Arranger, Vocals, Producer

Dave Lebolt - Synthesizer
Chris Parker - Drums
John Reynolds - Drums
Ira Siegel - Guitar
Richard Tee - Piano
David Tofani - Flute, Alto Saxophone
Dennis Anderson - Fiddle, Flute, Alto Saxophone
Dave Anderson - Flute, Alto Saxophone
Ronnie Cuber - Clavichord, Baritone Saxophone
Jerry Niewood - Clarinet, Tenor Saxophone
Ted Nash - Clarinet, Tenor Saxophone

Gloria Agostini - Harp
Lamar Alsop - Viola, Viol
Julien Barber - Viola, Viol
Elena Barere - Violin
Dave Braynard - Tuba
Bob Carlisle - French Horn
Kim Cissel - Trombone
Jon Clarke - French Horn
Concert Master - Violin
Arnold Eidus - Violin
David Finck - Bass
Barry Finclair - Violin
George Flynn - Trombone, Bass Trombone
Fred Griffin - French Horn
Birch Johnson - Trombone
Joanie Madden - Whistle, Tin Whistle
Jesse Levine - Viola, Violin
Charles Libove - Violin
Richard Locker - Cello
Alan Martin - Violin
Nancy McAlhany - Violin
Charles McCracken - Cello
Bob Milikan - Trumpet, Flugelhorn
Jan Mullen - Violin
David Nadien - Violin
Brian O'Flaherty - Trumpet, Flugelhorn
Keith O'Quinn - Trombone
Jerry O'Sullivan - Pipe
John Pintavalle - Violin
Jim Pugh - Trombone
Matthew Raimondi - Violin
Alan Rubin - Trumpet, Flugelhorn
Laura Seaton - Violin
Joe Shepley - Trumpet, Flugelhorn
Joseph J. Shepley - Trumpet, Flugelhorn
Frederick Slotkin - Cello
Lew Soloff - Trumpet, Flugelhorn
Richard Sortomme - Violin
Marti Sweet - Violin
Gerald Tarack - Violin
Donna Tecco - Violin
Shelley Woodworth - English Horn, Oboe

Doug Katsaros - Arranger, Conductor
Rob Mounsey - Arranger, Conductor
Sid Ramin - Arranger, Conductor
Torrie Zito - Arranger, Conductor
Patrick Williams - Arranger

Phil Ramone - Producer, Mixing
Gary Chester - Engineer, Mixing
Greg Calbi - Mastering
Tommy Civello - Assistant Engineer
Yvonne Yedibalian - Assistant Engineer
Jill Dell'Abate - Project Coordinator
Kate Garner - Photography

 C o m m e n t s ,   N o t e s



Nicht erst, seit sie auf der Bühne ein Papst-Poster und ein anderes Mal die US-Flagge zerstörte, galt Sinéad O'Connor als exzentrische, unberechenbare und widersprüchliche Künstlerin. Ein äußerst zerbrechliches Wesen andererseits, das wiederum auf der Bühne beim "Bob Dylan Tribute Concert" im New Yorker Madison Square Garden vom Publikum wegen o.g. Aktionen ausgepfiffen wurde und unter Tränen von Kollegen Backstage geleitet werden musste, sich mehr und mehr und immer zuviel abverlangte. Und ein paar erstaunliche Ergebnisse erzielte. Dieses Album z.B., nach dem Superhit "Nothing Compares 2 U" und dem Hitalbum (als solches, vom inhaltlichen Standpunkt aus betrachtet, ein Widerspruch in sich) I Do Not Want What I Haven't Got mit Spannung erwartet, war alles andere als das Erwartete, die reine Negation des vorausgegangenen Erfolgs. Am I Not Your Girl? besteht zum einen aus Fremdkompositionen wie Marilyn Monroes "I Wanna Be Loved By You", "Don't Cry For Me Argentina" aus Andrew Lloyd Webbers Evita und einer Version von "Gloomy Sunday", deren Intensität Heather Novas (aus dem Film "Ein Lied von Liebe und Tod") zu Staub zerfallen ließe. Die eigenen Songs hier sind als solche fast nicht kenntlich, denn sie sind in Sound und Arrangement voll und ganz den Klassikern angepasst: Bigband, Orchester, Streicher. Nichts, was O'Connor außerhalb dieses Albums je veröffentlicht hat, ist auch nur annähernd so verstörend, provokant und immer wieder kaum zu glauben.

Rolf Jäger - Amazon.de



Dieses Album ist eine Katastrophe - aber eine, die Respekt verdient. Musicalbearbeitungen von "Scarlett Ribbons" bis "Don't Cry For Me Ar- gentina"? Sinéad O'Connors neues Album ist nicht gerade aus dem Stoff, den sich ein Millionenpublikum als Nachfolger zum melodramatisch-waveigen Erfolgsalbum "I Do Not Want What I Haven't Got" wünscht. Die bisher so rüde und unnahbare Agit-Pop-Emanze als Musicalinterpretin - wirkt das nicht ungefähr so glaubwürdig wie Madonna als neue Mutter Theresa? Motivsuche tut da not. "Liebe und Romantik sind verlorene Werte", klagte Sinéad im Vorfeld dieses Albums und beteuerte: "Die Leute versuchen immer, aus mir ein 'bad girl' zu machen. Aber in erster Linie bin ich ein kleines Mädchen, das auch ein Herz hat." So ist "Am I Not Your Girl?" musikalisch vor allem eine Rückkehr zu den Klängen ihrer Kindheit, in der sich die Sehnsucht nach Liebe und Geborgenheit manifestiert - am augenfälligsten in der Single "Success Has Made A Failure Of Our Home", an deren Ende die kahle Irin in Flehendes "Am I Not Your Girl?" repetiert. Doch viel zu ernst und distanzlos fällt die Auseinandersetzung mit dem Musical aus. Den Anfang macht Julie Londons "Why Don't You Do Right?" im Bigband-Sound. Es folgt ein mit Geigen überladenes Zuckerbäckerwerk ("Bewitched, Bothered And Bewildered"). Streicher und Bläser gehören allgemein in solchem Übermaß zur Grundausstattung der elf Lieder, daß selbst belastbarste Geschmacksnerven kollabieren. Mutig hat sich Sinéad O'Connor mit diesem Album zwischen alle Stühle gesetzt - und ehrenvoll Schiffbruch erlitten. ** Interpret.: 04-06

© Stereoplay



Based on Sinéad O'Connor's version of "You Do Something to Me" (a highlight on the Red Hot + Blue album), an album of pop standards performed with a big band might have actually worked. At times, such as on "Success Has Made a Failure of Our Home" and "Don't Cry for Me Argentina," Am I Not Your Girl? does work. However, O'Connor runs into trouble with acknowledged standards and songs heavily identified with other vocalists. She doesn't offer a new perspective on these songs, and her airy voice is buried by overwrought string arrangements. Plus, there's O'Connor's bizarre two-minute rant on love, hatred, herself, and the Catholic Church.

Stephen Thomas Erlewine - All Music Guide



"...a collection of torch songs with lavish big band accompaniment...She siezes [the songs] with force and finesse, her voice breathing a thousand shades of longing, lust, and despair..." - Rating: A-

Entertainment Weekly (9/25/92, p.62)



"...Sinead has really pulled it off in a big, bold way here; her honesty and emotional intensity permeate every bar, every nuance of every lyric..."

NME (Magazine) (10/10/92, p.39)



After 1990's I Do Not Want What I Haven't Got launched Sinead O'Connor into the spotlight of the public at large, the controversy and curiosities surrounding the close-shaven one have been endless. The outspoken Irish vocalist seems unfazed and in her persistence to do what she wants, along comes Am I Not Your Girl?, a gutsy project showcasing O'Connor's sterling voice. Paying homage to the swing era, and the Broadway and film focus of so much music released outside rock's realm decades ago, O'Connor has compiled an album of reverent renditions of musical classics, in a manner that is fresh, timely and appreciative rather than sappy with nostalgia. A standout is Billie Holiday's "Gloomy Sunday," a chilling piece made even more fragile by O'Connor's expressive interpretation. Equally eloquent treatment and orchestrations are given to "Bewitched, Bothered And Bewildered," a pop standard from the Broadway show Pal Joey; "Why Don't You Do Right?," a 1920s blues song; "Black Coffee," Sarah Vaughan's first hit; "Success Has Made A Failure Of Our Home," an early Loretta Lynn hit; and "I Want To Be Loved By You," made famous in the `20s by Helen Kane (the voice of Betty Boop), Marilyn Monroe in Some Like It Hot and Ginger on Gilligan's Island. We are only left to wonder what's next - and whether even Frank Sinatra will appreciate this.

Andy Skibins - ©2008 CMJ Network, Inc.



Some of Rock & Roll's most affectionate nods to America's treasury of pop standards haven't been made by Americans. Elvis Costello has covered Rodgers and Hart, Sting has paid homage to Gershwin, and in the early Eighties, Bono used to slip Stephen Sondheim lyrics into U2 songs in performance. In 1990, Sinéad O'Connor was among a host of artists who recorded versions of Cole Porter classics for Red Hot + Blue. O'Connor was one of a few musicians who opted for an old-fashioned approach, using a big-band arrangement for her reading of Porter's "You Do Something to Me." The singer has now parlayed that experiment into Am I Not Your Girl?, a collection of traditional renderings of time-honored favorites.

The album does not lack for problems. O'Connor's performance on Red Hot + Blue, all whispers and sighs, tried too hard for demure understatement. On Girl, too, she flirts relentlessly with the melodies but is loath to caress them. Her coyness grows cloying after a while; moreover, it suggests that the singer is substituting affectation for technique. True, some of the most inspired takes on songs like these have been by singers of limited technical skill, but O'Connor is no Lotte Lenya or Marianne Faithfull. An interesting and often moving singer, she has yet to display the emotional authority required of a great chanteuse. Her labored breathing and chary phrasing on the swinging "Secret Love" (from Calamity Jane) and Rodgers and Hart's "Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered" (from Pal Joey) convey more self-consciousness than ingenuity, making the lush perfection of the forty-plus-piece orchestra seem jarringly incongruous.

Only when O'Connor drops her mannered delicateness and invokes the urgency that has distinguished her best work does she seem to connect with the material. Her rendition of the haunting "Gloomy Sunday" won't make anyone forget Billie Holiday's definitive version, but O'Connor's delivery has a ghostly, chilling pathos. And on J. McCoy's "Why Don't You Do Right?" she chides her Mr. Wrong with attitude and verve.

But the most compelling performance on this album comes, oddly enough, on the least compelling song. At first the inclusion of British schmaltz meister Andrew Lloyd Webber's syrupy "Don't Cry for Me Argentina" (from Evita) seems regrettable. But hearing a young woman who has courted as much controversy as O'Connor sing lyrics like "I still need your love after all that I've done," you realize why she was drawn to this song and why her straightforward interpretation is so touching. Still, neither this track nor any other on Am I Not Your Girl? reveals O'Connor as a singer whose wit can rival her grit.

ELYSA GARDNER - RollingStones.com (RS 644)



The funniest thing about this record is that, if these pseudo-documental tidbits are to be believed, quite a few fans actually scorned Sinead for "selling out" with this album. Yeah, on first glance, recording an entire LP's worth of covers of big band pop tunes assembled from several decades' worth of commercially oriented music doesn't exactly look like much of an independent artistic statement. But on second glance, "selling out" also means "going predictable" - and in that respect, I Do Not Want... was a far bigger sellout than this, completely unforeseen, move on her part.
Now, Sinead obviously loves this stuff. It's hardly possible to take a genre you hate or simply don't care for - especially if the genre is lounge/Broadway - and sift it through such meticulous work and sincere-sounding singing. But, in all honesty, if there is one tune I would have placed on the far bottom of the "Most Likely Songs To Be Covered By Bald-Headed Female Irish Rebels" list, it would certainly be 'I Wanna Be Loved By You'. Come on now, Sinead O'Connor doing Marilyn Monroe? What next - The London Symphonic Orchestra Plays Music By Dee Dee Ramone?

So it is not a sellout. It's a shock gesture. It's Sinead O'Connor, having firmly established herself as the rebellious female of her generation, confounding expectations and intentionally confusing fans and critics alike by showing that one thing you'll never be able to do will be to pigeonhole her into anything. In an even better sense, this is an all-encompassing, all-forgiving Sinead O'Connor, urging us to find merit in even the most "generic" of all generic genres - show tunes. 'I Wanna Be Loved By You' and its vibe used to be one of the bastions of exploitative sexism; by turning its values onto itself, Sinead siomehow takes out everything that could be deemed offensive about it and transforms it into an enjoyable post-modern joke.

The one real problem is evident - she may like this stuff, and she may think it a cool idea to record it, but she sure as hell wasn't born to sing it. Throughout the record, there's this weird, unsettling feel of inadequacy poisoning the general vibe. She's trying to sound convincing and authentic, and at the same time she's trying to adapt the material to her own capacities, technical as well as spiritual, and being stuck between these two goals, she ultimately fails. When Marilyn sang 'I Wanna Be Loved By You', she was living out the song, oozing out submissiveness and sexuality - Sinead is either unwilling to do it or incapable of doing it, because it's just not her, you know. 'I couldn't aspire to anything higher than to feel the desire to make you my own' - this is not her. After all, she does not want anything she hasn't got, remember? No place for higher desires.

Likewise, on 'Why Don't You Do Right', in which the protagonist is urging her man to 'get out there and get me some money too', Sinead doesn't fit the part too well either. The tune is cool, but it should be delivered with an air of arrogance and "vapour-headedness", which is completely missing. Every time she takes on a tune which demands this exuberance and just basic power to it, the result is sordidly lacklustre, meaning that not only don't these version have one tiny chance to replace the originals, they don't even work all that well as parodies or personal reinterpretations. They just sit there wallowing in their shock value, causing you to raise your eyebrows and then just as quickly drop them back in place.

Things get infinitely better on songs which actually involve a troubled spirit, because that's what Sinead has always been. Not so much a decided banner-bearing rebel as a confused, troubled soul. That's why a song like 'Black Coffee' can really get under your skin where 'Why Don't You Do Right' cannot, even if you have been recently scalped. This is also a good spot to mention the dexterity of the backing band, I guess, because some of the arrangements are quite fabulous - and on 'Black Coffee' in particular the piano, strings, and brass brilliantly match the comings and goings of Sinead's voice as she rises from quiet melancholy to dynamic despair and falls back again.

The album's one definite high point, which, not coincidentally, happens to be the one song most fit for inclusion on Sinead's previous album, is J. Mullins' 'Success Has Made A Failure Of Our Home'. Here, it's rendered as a highly personal, tormented confession, and as the main part of the tune is drawing to a close, Sinead launches into a passionate, bleeding rant - consisting of one and only one line, which has later suitably become the title of the album as a whole. As the strings and trumpets raise hell all over the place, Sinead wails 'am I not your girl? am I not your girl?' like somebody possessed, just for this once completely stepping out of the "image" and reverting to her own true self. The arrangement is so totally fab - hey, maybe if things had been so more symphonic on I Don't Want, I would have held a seriously higher opinion on that album.

As for the other songs, well, it's hit-and-miss all over the place. I happen to find her version of 'Don't Cry For Me Argentina' quite poignant (at the very least, it ain't no worse than the Madonna version), but I just like the tune (yeah, so Andrew Lloyd Webber does have his good moments that are not necessarily Jesus Christ Superstar - now that you've heard it from me, you've earned you right to go back to your KISS records without fear of committing a crime against bad taste, I suppose). On the other hand, six minutes of the jello-mess that is 'Bewitched, Bothered And Bewildered' can only be recommended to either a diehard Sinead fan or a diehard Rogers & Hart fan, whichever one you happen to meet first. And so on.

The tendency is for the album to get gloomier and gloomier as it progresses (which is theoretically good but in the end depends on the song quality, after all); culmination is reached on 'Scarlet Ribbons', which has nothing to do with Broadway but all to do with traditional folk ballads, and is sung practically accappella, ending in a muffled choir of bagpipes. 'Scarlet Ribbons' is arguably Sinead's finest vocal performance on here (technically, at least), not because she was trying better or something, but because this is the kind of material that comes across so naturally to her. On the other hand, it's a bit lethargic after all the Broadway "excitement" - more shock value for youse?

And then, oh woeful day, she finally brings the house down on us. Formally, the album ends with a hustle-bustling, dynamic, danceable instrumental reworking of 'Don't Cry For Me Argentina' - which has now become quite an enjoyable jazzy romp - but as the music finally stops and we're ready to go about our own business and all, starts The Big Moral Rant. 'I'm not a liar, and I'm not full of hatred, but I hate lies, and so the liars hate me... Can you really say you're not in pain, like me?... Pain is what their lies have kept us in.' Within a few weeks of The Big Moral Rant, she would be tearing up the Pope's photo on NBC, effectively ruining her career and causing her to be booed offstage at Dylan's anniversary concert.

True enough - this is the album's greatest shock moment. To be thus directly reminded of the Rebellion, after sitting through forty five minutes of harmless show tunes, is like being dropped head first into ice cold water indeed. Which is why I'm not offended - the greatest offenses usually come from people who do not have a set goal to offend, but do it unintentionally. Nor am I offended by the fact that The Big Moral Rant is even less compatible with 'I Wanna Be Loved By You' than 'I Wanna Be Loved By You' is compatible with The Lion And The Cobra. Rather I am a little bit saddened by the utter silliness of the Rant, as well as the action that followed it.

By the way, in case you didn't know it: while the tearing of the photo and the cartoonish declaration of 'War!' on the Catholic Church has by now become legend, the fact that Sinead later apologized for her action is far less widely known - in fact, she has since gone on record as saying that she actually admired the late John Paul II, and felt sorry for his being manipulated by his croonies, or something to that effect. Which just goes to show that she herself is ready to acknowledge the immaturity and rashness of some of her actions - although I do not know if she has ever felt sorry for taunting us with The Big Moral Rant. That Big Moral Rant in which she is revealed to be just as intolerant and bellicose as the Catholic Church and the 'Holy Roman Empire' that she is blaming for all of the world's evil. On the other hand, even if she is sorry, I probably wouldn't want to have The Big Moral Rant wiped out from the record. Mistakes should be corrected, but not forgotten.

Overall, I give the record a 9/15 from a purely musical standpoint - but if I were to rate it based on shock value, I'd probably have to add at least three or four more points. Of course, I would then have to subtract three or four points for immaturity, which would make it pretty much the same thing. After all, 'shocking' and 'immature' pretty much go hand in hand. Alice Cooper sure could tell you a few things about that one.

George Starostin's Review
 

 L y r i c s


Why Don't You Do Right?

You had plenty money
Nineteen fourty one
You lost it all
And then, where do you run?
Why don't you do right?
Like some other men do?
Get out of here and
get me some money too
Yo'sittin' down wondering
what it's all about
If you ain't got no money
they will put you out
Why don't you do right?
Like some other men do?
Just get out of here and
get me some money too
If you had prepared
twenty years ago
You wouldn't have wand'ring
now from do'to do'
Why don't you do right?
Like some other men do?
Get out of here and
get me some money too
Why don't you do right?
Like some other men do?
Like some other men do?
Like some other men do?


Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered

After one whole quart of brandy
Like a daisy I'll awake
With no bromo-seltzer handy
I don't even shake
Men are not a new sensation
I've done pretty well I think
But this half-pint imitation
Put me on the blink
I'm wild again
beguiled again
a simpering whimpering child again
bewitched bothered and bewildered
Am I
couldn't sleep, and wouldn't sleep
when love came and told me
I shouldn't sleep
Bewitched bothered and bewildered
Am I
lost my heart, but what of it?
he is cold, I agree
he can laugh, but I love it
Although the laugh's on me
I'll sing to him, each spring to him
And long for the day
when I'll cling to him,
Bewitched bothered and bewildered
Am I.
He's a fool and don't I know it
But a fool can have his charms
I'm in love and don't I show it
like a babe in arms
I've sinned a lot
I mean a lot
But I'm like sweet seventeen a lot
bewitched bothered and bewildered
Am I
I'll sing to him
Each spring to him
And worship the trousers
that cling to him
Bewitched bothered and bewildered
Am I
When he talks
He is seeking
words to get
On his chest
Harsh until he's speaking
he's at his very best
jest again
oh yes perplexed again
then, God, I can be oversexed again
bewitched bothered and bewildered
Am I


Secret Love

Once I had a secret love
That lived within the heart of me
All too soon
my secret love
Became impatient
to be free
So I told a friendly star
The way that dreamers
often do
Just how wonderful
you are
And why I'm so
in love with you
Now I shout it
from the highest hill
Even told
the golden daffodils
At last my heart's
an open door
And my secret love's
no secret anymore
Now I shout it
from the highest hill
I Even told
the golden daffodils
And lost my heart's
an open door
And my secret love's
no secret
My secret love's
no secret
My secret love's
no secret anymore


Black Coffee

I'm feelin' mighty lonesome,
haven't slept a wink
I walk the floor and watch
the door and in between
I drink black coffee
Love's hand me down broom
I'll never know a Sunday
In this weekday room
I'm talkin' to the shadows
One o'clock till four
And Lord, how slow
the moments go
When all I do is pour
black coffee
Since the blues caught my eye
I'm hangin'out on Monday
my Sunday dreams to dry
Now a man is born to go a lovin'
A woman's born to weep and fret
To stay at home and
tend her oven
And drown her past regrets
in coffee and cigarettes!
I'm moanin' all the mornin'
And mournin' all the night
And in between it's nicotine
And not much heart to fight
black coffee
Feelin'low as the ground
It's drivin' me crazy
This waiting for my baby
To maybe come around


Success Has Made A Failure Of Our Home

We used to go out
walking hand in hand
You told me all the big
things you had planned
It wasn't long
till all your dreams came true
Success put me in second place with you
You have no time
to love me anymore
Since fame and fortune
knocked up on our door
And i spend all
my evenings all alone
Success has made a failure of our home
If we could share
an evening now and then
I'm sure we'd find true
happiness again
You never hold me
like you used to do
Oh, it's funny what success
has done to you
You have no time to
love me anymore
Since fame and fortune
knocked up on our door
And i spend all my
evenings all alone
Success has made a failure of our home
Success has made a failure of our home
I never changed
I'm still the same
I never changed
Stop what you're saying
You're killing me
And am i not your girl?
Am i not your girl?
Am i not?


Don't Cry For Me Argentina

It won't be easy
you'll think it strange
When I try to explain how I feel
That I still need your love
After all that I've done
You won't believe me
All you will see is a girl
you once knew
Although she's dressed up
to the nines
At sixes and sevens with you
I had to let it happen
I had to change
Couldn't stay all my life
Down at heel
Looking out of the window
Staying out of the sun
So I chose freedom
Running around trying
everything new
But nothing impressed me at all
I never expected it too
Don't cry for me Argentina
The truth is I never left you
All through my wild days
My mad existence
I kept my promise
Don't keep your distance
And as for fortune
And as for fame
I never invited them in
Though it seemed to the world
They were all I desired
They are illusions
They are not the solutions
they promised to be
The answer was here all the time
I love you and hope you love me
Have I said too much?
There's nothing more
I can think of to say to you
But all you have to do is
look at me
To know that every word is true
I kept my promise
Don't keep your distance

   

I Want To Be Loved By You

I wanna be loved by you,
just you and nobody else but you
I wanna be loved by you
alone poo poo pi doo
I wanna be kissed by you
just you, nobody else but you
I wanna be loved by you
I couldn't aspire
To anything higher
Then to fill a desire
to make you my own
I wanna be loved by you,
just you and nobody else but you
I wanna be loved by you
alone
I couldn't aspire
To anything higher
Then to fill a desire
to make you my own
tada tada ta tada
I wanna be loved by you
just you, nobody else but you
I wanna be loved by you
I wanna be loved by you
I wanna be loved by you
Alone
   

Gloomy Sunday

Sunday is gloomy,
My hours are slumberless,
Dearest the shadows
I live with are numberless
Little white flowers will
never awaken you
Not where the black coach
of sorrow has taken you
Angels have no thought of
ever returning you
Would they be angry
if I thought of joining you
Gloomy Sunday.
Sunday is gloomy
with shadows I spend it all
My heart and I have
decided to end it all
Soon there'll be flowers
and prayers that are sad,
I know, let them not weep,
let then know
that I'm glad to go
Death is no dream,
for in death I'm caressing you
With the last breath of my
soul I'll be blessing you
Gloomy Sunday
Dreaming
I was only dreaming
I wake and I find you
asleep in the deep of
my heart dear
Darling I hope that my dream
never haunted you
My heart is telling you
how much I wanted you
Gloomy Sunday.


Love Letters

Love letters straight
from you heart
Keep us so near
while apart
I'm not alone in the night
When I can have all the love
that you write
I memorize every line
And I kiss the name
that you sign
And darling then
I read again
right from the start
Love letters straight
from your heart
I memorize every line
And I kiss the name
that you sign
And darling then
i read again
right from the start
Love letters straight
from your heart


How Insensitive

How insensitive
I must have seemed
when he told me
that he loved me.
How unmoved and cold
I must have seemed
when he said it
so sincerely.
Why, he must have asked
did I just turn and
stare in icy silence?
What was I to do?
What can you do?
when a love affair is over?
Now he's gone away
and I'm alone with
the memory of
his last look.
Vague and drawn
and sad, I see it still
All the heartbreak
of his last look.
Why, he must have asked
would I just turn
and stare in icy silence?
What was I to say?
What can you say?
when a love affair is over?
Why, he must have asked
did I just turn
and stare in icy silence?
What was I to say?
What can you say?
when a love affair is over?
over
over


Scarlet Ribbons

I peeped in to say goodnight
And then I heard my child in prayer
"And for me some scarlet ribbons
Scarlet ribbons for my hair"
All the stores were locked and shuttered
All the streets were dark and bare
In our town, no scarlet ribbons
Not one ribbon for her hair
Through the night my heart was aching
Just before the dawn was breaking
I peeped in and on her bed
In gay profusion lying there
Lovely ribbons, scarlet ribbons
Scarlet ribbons for her hair
If I live to be two hundred
I will never know from where
Came those ribbons, scarlet ribbons
Scarlet ribbons for her hair


Don't Cry For Me Argentina

Instrumental version.
 

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