On the Layla piano exit
If someone forced me to pick a favorite piece of music, something to enter in a galactic songwriting contest to represent life on Earth, I think I'd pick the piano exit of Layla.
For people my age, it's probably most famous for its use during a pivotal moment of Goodfellas.
The first time I heard Layla was from Clapton's Unplugged album, and a few years later while I was driving the Derek and the Dominoes cut popped up on my local classic rock station, 96X broadcasting from Tyler, TX.
But it didn't include the piano exit.
One night on my way home from work, I caught what I thought was the end of Layla while I got in my car, and thought a new song started when the piano kicked off after a pause. For the next 4 minutes and change, I listened and was transported.
Nick Cave shared these words of wisdom when some one asked him about enjoying Morrissey after his shift to the far-right:
"Personally, when I write a song and release it to the public, I feel it stops being my song. It has been offered up to my audience and they, if they care to, take possession of that song and become its custodian. The integrity of the song now rests not with the artist, but with the listener."
That's how I feel about Layla. We are the custodians for the integrity.
I thought of all this today as I listened to the song with my daughter on the way to school. It was her first time hearing the song that she remembered. I told her about Clapton being secretly in love with Patti Boyd because she was married to his best friend, and how Duane Allman died in a motorcycle accident not too long after this album came out.
I paused it before the piano exit started, and explained to her this was my favorite piece of music. As it played, I thought of the moment she was born.
About summers at my Grandma's house.
Burying my grandparents.
Getting married.
The bittersweet taste of middle age, realizing that the highs aren't possible without the lows. The good times wouldn't be good with hardship too.
It took a lot to not start bawling.
For me, that happens every time I hear the piano exit now.
Pain. Joy. Melancholy. Angst.
Life.
It can all be pretty damn good.