Cole Porter - You're The Top

You're the top
You're Mahatma Gandhi
You're the top
You're Napoleon´s Brandy
You're the purple light of a summer night in Spain
You're the National Gallery,
You're Garbo's salary
You're cellophane (...)

  Tras esta cita (de memoria, os lo juro) acabo de verificar el texto y es así... Querría escribir horas sobre Cole Porter & Cia, pero ya lo iré haciendo. Mientras tanto pueden ustedes pinchar en la nariz de Porter sobre la foto que encabeza esta entrada y escuchar al más hábil y simpático talento en su época donde ciertamente no fue el único. Pero sí el mejor.

  Cole Porter (1891-1964) es un caso tal vez único, de un compositor de música popular capaz de componer la partitura de cada canción, redactar la letra, interpretarla al piano y a veces cantarla. De todos los compositores populares americanos en una época tan rica en talento como la entreguerras 1918-1939, con los hermanos Gershwin, Irving Berlin, Jerome Kern, Harold Arlen y tantos otros, destacaba y sigue destacando en el recuerdo Cole Porter.

Cole Porter y Linda Lee Thomas saliendo del Café Victor Hugo, Valence, Francia 

Cole Porter y Linda Lee Thomas, 1938

Cole Porter con Ether Merman en el Hotel Ritz-Carlton, preparando el musical "DuBarry Was a Lady" en 1939

The Lady in Blue, Mrs. Edward R. Thomas a.k.a. Linda Lee Thomas por Emil Fuchs, 1906

Post data:

Letra al completo

You´re the top

At words poetic I'm so pathetic
That I always have found it best
Instead of getting them off of my chest
To let them rest unexpressed
I hate parading my serenading
As I probably miss the bar
But if this ditty is not so pretty
At least it'll tell you how great you are

You're the top
You're the Coliseum
You're the top
You're the Louvre Museum
You're a melody from a symphony by Strauss
You're a Bendel bonnet, a Shakespeare sonnet
You're Mickey Mouse

You're the Nile
You're the Tower of Pisa
You're the smile on the Mona Lisa
I'm a worthless check, a total wreck, a flop
But if, baby, I'm the bottom, you're the top

You're the top

You're Mahatma Gandhi
You're the top

You're Napoleon Brandy
You're the purple light of a summer night in Spain
You're the National Gallery, you're Garbo's salary
You're cellophane
You're sublime
You're a turkey dinner
You're the time of the Derby winner
I'm a toy balloon that's fated soon to pop
But if, baby, I'm the bottom, you're the top

You're the top

You're an Arrow collar
You're the top

You're a Coolidge dollar
You're the nimble tread of the feet of Fred Astaire
You're an O'Neill drama, you're Whistler's mama
You're Camembert
You're repose
You're Inferno's Dante
You're the nose on the great Durante
I'm just in the way, as the French would say, "de trop"
But if, baby, I'm the bottom, you're the top

You're the top

You're a Waldorf salad
You're the top

You're a Berlin ballad
You're the baby grand of a lady and a gent
You're an old Dutch master, you're Mrs. Astor
You're Pepsodent
You're romance
You're the steppes of Russia
You're the pants on a Roxy usher
I'm a lazy louse that's just about to stop
But if, baby, I'm the bottom, you're the top

Canción de Cole Porter escrita en 1934 para el musical Anything Goes.

POST SCRIPTUM

Perdone el lector la falta de traducción, debida a la falta de tiempo que subsanaré un día de estos. También añadiré otras informaciones sobre el personaje, tan simpático como triste al final de su vida. Claro que esto último es lo más frecuente.