A piano blues by Stan Raines

You call me up at nine
Ask me about a bottle of wine
You’re gonna serve to your guests
But I’m not invited.

So I crashed the party anyway
Then I find I don’t have much to say
‘Bout many things beyond whether
You and me are ever gonna be together.

And you know that I love you.
And you know that I need you.
And you know that I want you bad.

I see you out on a Saturday night
Tell by your look you been clubbin’ it right
And the party’s not even close
To being over.

Sunday morning you knock on my door,
And tell me how you ended up sleeping on the floor
And could I see if there could be a breakfast
In my kitchen just for you?

And you know that I love you.
And you know that I need you.
And you know that I want you bad.

Writer’s note: I don’t play piano, but we’ve got one in the house because all the boys took piano lessons from seven or so until they were done, although not quite for the youngest because our most excellent piano teacher, Mary Ellen Dunn, also turned out to be irreplaceable at the time. Oddly enough, he is the one who is most devoted to the instrument.

But having a piano in the house and an obsessive stripe in my nature has led to odd consequences. I am one of those poor creatures that real piano players make merciless fun of because we have learned to stumble through the first movement of Beethoven’s “Moonlight Sonata.” But I also found a nice riff in A minor for this piece that makes it as soulful as I, creature without soul, can get. Also, I like the story here. I’ve lived through at least one very similar.