Timeless 'torch songs' are true Valentine's staples

"When the mellow moon begins to beam/every night I dream a little dream/and, of course, Prince Charming is the theme." So begins George and Ira Gershwin's "The Man I Love." It is possibly one of the most plaintive and touching love songs ever written. It is a torch song - plain and simple.

Torch songs are love songs, but love songs of a special type. They invariably deal with tortured hearts and unrelenting devotion and unrequited passion; the proverbial "man that got away" (from the famous song written for Judy Garland by Harold Arlen and Ira Gershwin) mourned by his "little girl blue" (from Rodgers and Hart's tragic ballad). They are usually sung by a woman to a man, but, of course, any permutation is acceptable these days.

It is a tradition represented by the prototypical torch singer Helen Morgan, famous for starring in the original 1927 production of Showboat, who, supposedly too drunk to support herself, started the trend of lying atop a grand piano. She also has the dubious honor of introducing the song "Can't Help Lovin That Man," which has haunted many a Valentine's Day since.

These songs were introduced in early musicals, then kept alive in nightclubs and speakeasies by the likes of Ruth Etting and Libby Holman, who whispered and moaned and purred and belted until their emotions filled the room. The songs are a concise blend of big band, blues and Broadway. Typical titles include "Lover Man," "What Wouldn't I Do for That Man" and "Lover, Come Back to Me" (okay, you get the idea). The torch song to end all torch songs, "My Man," was the signature number of Ziegfeld Follies star Fanny Brice. Perhaps as a plea to her philandering husband, she complains, "What's the difference if I say/I'll go away/when I know I'll come back on my knees someday."

Sure, the subject of lost love is addressed in rock and roll, but for some reason the songs of the past address it more effectively. I am never one to get nostalgic, but I seriously doubt that when one searches for the perfect song to mend their aching heart, to remind themselves they are not alone, the Top 40 doesn't provide much. The ubiquity of sappy romance can make one bitter, especially on Valentine's Day - these songs are the perfect way to drown your sorrows.

Meanwhile, the whole world was changing: world wars, booming prosperity, a new global economy. and the pop scene was no exception. Gutsy torch singers were taken over by talented but innocuous singers like Peggy Lee. The next big break in our "torch culture," if you will, was the breakthrough of Barbra Streisand in the early 1960's. In her epic work "Cry Me A River" (the liner notes of the album compare her to Helen Morgan and Fanny Brice), Streisand laments "you nearly drove me out of my head, while you never shed a tear." The tradition continued; other notable torchers of the decade included Vikki Carr's "It Must Be Him" and Janis Joplin's "Piece of My Heart" - but the genre had long since fallen out of vogue.

Torch songs are still with us, of course; "Send in the Clowns," Stephen Sondheim's only work to truly become a standard, is a perfect contemporary example. A personal favorite performance of the song is by cabaret singer Karen Akers, whose warbling vibrato and shaking intensity milk it for all the irony and bitterness that it is worth. Asking "Don't you love farce," she grieves in mock-celebration for a love lost before it began, putting a new twist on the theme.

If these songs seem stereotyped or cliched, it is only because their themes are universal. No one can claim that these particular women will be selling CDs forever (even if online music superstore "CD Now" has recently added an official torch singer section), but as long as love is fleeting, as long as romance is fickle, these songs will be sung. This Valentine's Day, if you are down, without the one or just without anyone, recognize that you are just the latest in a long line in a history of lost loves and broken hearts.