My Songs
Only 300 More Hits, I’ll be Just Like Lennon/McCartney
My best known song to date is “Veronique,” which I wrote the lyrics for Thomas Lauderdale’s melody, for his band, Pink Martini. The song, which I named after a girlfriend of my Paris roommate, Fraser, appears on the popular big band’s album Hang On Little Tomato. About, oh, I don’t know, 500,000 copies of the album have sold worldwide. (All of which helps with the ol’ royalties.)
Thomas asked me to write some songs with him ages ago. Literally, a day or two before I traveled to Cuba for the first time while I was working on my book, Fidel’s Cuba, he sat down at the piano and recorded a few melodies and handed me a tape. I wrote the song on the roof of the Casa Scientifico, a decaying luxury hotel in Old Havana. I had a bottle of rum and Thomas’ tape, notebook and pen. Balmy night in Cuba, thinking about France, loss, and sipping straight Havana Club seven-year-old rum. That about sums it up.
I now write little tunes on the ukulele, or my cigar box guitar, for transposing to the guitar or piano for who knows what purpose. Maybe I’ll make a little album using Garage Band, or my Boss Micro BR. Might as well make a lo-fi album. Everybody else is doing it.
Buy Hang on Little Tomato on amazon.com now.
The lyrics that were recorded for “Veronique” were not the full lyrics I wrote. The week after the album came out, Robert Taylor, the trombonist of Pink Martini, who played a great Chet-Baker-like trumpet and sang the song on the LP ran into me on the street and said, “Hey, I forgot to sing all the lyrics.” I didn’t mind. Here are the lyrics that he sang. The actual lyrics are on a hard drive and in a Cuban notebook in a box, somewhere in my study.
Veronique
Black is the night
Black as my heart
Dark hours since we’ve been apart
A voice in the wind
Keeps calling your name
Veronique
November came
And with it died our love
Leaves fall down
Clock’s chiming
Please come back my darling
One love
The letters I write
I never shall mail
The world is gray
Wrapped in a veil
No step on the stairs
No one rings the bell
For Veronique
November came
And with it died our love
Tears fall down
Clock’s chiming
Don’t leave me my darling
One love
The letters I write
I never shall mail
The world is gray
Wrapped in a veil
No step on the stairs
No one rings the bell
For Veronique
Veronique
