The gift of song

A quick shuffle through my Zune will reveal a few basic truths: I have a lot of classical and jazz music, a fondness for the occasional shameless pop song, and a heavy leaning toward hushed, melancholy music. I've made several mix tapes for people, and a frequent response is, "I liked it a lot, but it made me sooo sleepy." Maybe it's a subconscious effort on my part to lower my blood pressure and prevent future hair loss. And it doesn't help that I was raised by a mother who blared songs like this and this through the house on a daily basis. I am used to the morose. But sometimes, when I'm in a really sour mood, and don't particularly feel like wallowing in self pity all day, I wish I had a more uplifting, energizing library of ditties to chose from. And as the days get shorter, and we enter to the interminable stretch of a sunless winter, I think now is as good a time as any to introduce a new feature to my blog. Until now, I've recommend singing a few bars of "This Little Light of Mine" or "Pocketful of Sunshine" to the world-weary who have trouble crawling out of their cozy beds. But now, each week (negotiable), I'll introduce a new little song that will make your heart sing. Titles for this semi-regular column can be left in the comments section.

This week's selection, at Meaghen's suggestion, is "Taylor the Latte Boy," in honor of my burgeoning romance with Hottie McLatte. This song was practically written for our love affair. I saw Kristin Chenoweth perform this on the Rosie show back in the 90s, and it has been a favorite of mine and my mother's since then. (And yes, sometimes my mother does turn off what she so sensitively calls "slit-your-wrist music" for some lighter fare.) Here's Kristin singing it for my fave late night show host, Craig Ferguson. Enjoy.