Every Song I Love — 18. September Song
Every Song I Love is a series where I attempt to write about every song that I love, or die trying. Sometimes I’ll explain why I love them, sometimes I’ll tell the stories behind how I fell in love with them, sometimes I’ll do both. Most importantly, I hope you love them too.
My wife and I first became aware of the Unitarian Church in Brighton when watching Slow Club there as part of the Great Escape festival back in 2010. We’re not religious, but loved it as a building and a venue. When we were planning our wedding the following year, we thought about it as an option for the ceremony. As an atheist, I felt slightly weird about the idea of a church wedding, but the Unitarians encouraged us to attend some of their services before making a decision, so we could get a sense of what they were all about.
We were pleasantly surprised at what we found. They were very much on the liberal non-dogmatic end of the religious spectrum (I think this is somewhat true for the Unitarians in general, but the Brighton branch in particular). The ministers were friendly and engaging. The readings included poetry and fiction alongside texts from various religions, and there seemed to be a free exploration of ideas. It helped me understand one of the things people get out of attending church, which is the sense of community. I wasn’t suddenly a believer, but I appreciated that togetherness at least. My wife and I attended more services than we were asked to and continued to attend, on occasion, even after the wedding.
Every three months, on the Sunday closest to the solstice, the service would be opened up to the congregation. Members would read passages of their choosing, more often poetry than religious texts. At the autumn solstice service one year, a visibly weak, and very elderly man approached the lectern. He announced that due to his severe ill health this would be the last service he could attend, and clearly he wasn’t long for this world.
We thought he may read a poem, or even just end his announcement there, but instead he unexpectedly broke into an a capella rendition of ‘September Song’. It’s a song I knew, even if I couldn’t have named it, a standard of sorts. I first knew it as the theme tune to the BBC sitcom ‘May to December’, about life in a retirement home. It’s a song about aging, knowing that you’re entering the final chapters of your life.
I’d never thought about the song before. It hadn’t troubled my mind or my heart, but in this context it was devastating. To know this man had so little time left, but was still responding with song. Bravely standing in front of us with soul wide open, acknowledging his own mortality. Usually the congregation received each reading in contemplative silence, but on this occasion a spontaneous standing ovation broke out, and tears rolled down nearly every face in the room, including my own. It was a moment I will never forget.
More than any other post I’ve written in this series, this is about the song itself rather than any particular recorded version of it, but I have listened to many versions of September Song since. The fragile beauty of Robert Wyatt’s version, with Pascal Comelade is my favourite (if Robert Wyatt has recorded a version of a song, it will usually be my favourite). Hearing it, or any other version of September Song will transport me back to that day, remind me of that man, now long gone. I hope when death comes for me, I can also face it with bravery, and a song.
Originally published at http://markjwray.com on November 24, 2024.
