SPELLBOUND

The real black magic of my youth? The music

from the ‘phonograph,’ the medium of the séance…

lights all lowered for atmosphere, the campy

ember-burn of the vacuum tubes casting their

gypsy candleglow upon the wall behind… and

 

me, sitting there in the dark all by my little

lonesome, letting the instruments and voices

snake-charm me down into those midnight

grooves right into someone else’s jealousy…

letting them conjure up in me somebody

 

else’s pain and blues… letting them possess me

with someone else’s yearning… and then, well…

I’d find myself in somebody else’s skin… in

somebody else’s emotional blue suede shoes…

in somebody else…

 

so yeah, small fry

though I was, it was

me giving Peggy Lee that...

"Fe-ver… in the morning, yeah…

fever all through the night…"

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