Intense delight, that is. From 1957's A Swingin' Affair, "You'd Be So Nice To Come Home To," an underrated jewel from the Sinatra/Riddle/Porter songbook:
This is one gorgeous piece of writing:
You'd be so nice to come home toWhat woman doesn't want to hear that she's "all that I could desire"? And Frank, as usual, is very convincing.
You'd be so nice by the fire
While the breeze on high sang a lullaby
You'd be all that I could desire
Under stars chilled by the winter
Under an August moon burning above
You'd be so nice, you'd be paradise
To come home to and love
I get a strong visual image from Porter's lyrics, kind of a Chagall-esque view from "on high" of a swirly, deep-blue, star-filled sky, a little house beneath it, and then, somehow looking right through the roof, a couple inside snuggled in front of the fire.
The arrangement is classic Riddle, building in intensity as the song progresses, with the same wonderful intensification from Sinatra.
But he came close to sabotaging it. Listen closely to the very end of the song. You'll probably have to turn up the volume. If Frank had added his little comment at regular volume he would have broken the spell. I'm so glad he didn't.
Stay tuned for more Cole Porter.