I've listened to a heady, tireless amount of Aznavour lately. I always wonder what throws me into a musical mood. As the season shifts, winter staples are slowly trickling their way into my autumn repertoire. Naturally, too much Leonard Cohen always. Otherwise, bucketfuls of Michael Hurley, Odetta, & the Ink Spots (normally too much Django, but he really seems more appropriate in the spring, no?). The pleasure of succumbing to whims seems most prominent in what I listen to.
Unsettling to dwell on the comparison of this year and last. A cold Monaco* will save such thoughts.
These stills were lovingly zilched from Tirez sur le pianiste (1960) by François Roland Truffaut.
*A Monaco is best with a pale ale, grenadine, & limonade (sprite will do). Some replace the limonade with champagne, but I've yet to do this (shocking, considering I go a bit weak in the knees for anything brut).