This is now one of my favorite songs of all time and I have not heard it in years, nay decades, now a year past four decades. I had forgot about it and tonight it hit me in the heart. It came up on Spotify and I remembered it and remembered how much I loved it way back then. Christ it would take me quite a while to write about what I felt then at that young age so I will try to do so briefly - so many metaphors in the song, the Matador as an ideal (Garland is of Puerto Rican and African descent) instead of a Don Quixote joke - oh shit I am about to descend into Hemmingway love of Matadors- several paragraphs would be needed to explain why I am not talking about that - I am talking about an authentic song of feeling from Garland, an ideal he aspires to, not sure exactly what the song meant to him. Or to me, I am starting the song again to try and figure it out. And now here are some lyrics-
Silver sonnets reach the sky
Fight the battles and the blues
Wars of love and wars of art
Tonight the cape is what I choose
Goya’s in my Spanish heart
He will help me with my love
Dance the dance that lovers do
Rhumba with the velvet glove
'Neath the Barcelona moon
See one thousands violins
Golden trumpets soar on high
Waves and waves of joyful hymns
Silver sonnets rech the sky
Jeffies is gay, I think ths song is abouit as open about that as one could be at that time.
I should add (and I just realized I have buried the lede) I was raised in an evangelical church, and taught that one day Christ would return and save the world. And I got saved believing it. Rejected the church at 15 because they rejected evolution but held on to a belief, for a few years , that Jesus was real, just misinterpreted by the evangelical church. In this song at that time, the Matador was a Jesus metaphor. A true Jesus. After a couple of beers and a couple of tokes I would sing along waiting for the bettter world he would usher in.
By the time I was 18, forgot about that bullshit.
From now on will listen to this song as a vision of a beautiful future for all the world. Led by, for lack of a better word, a Progressive. Not a mythical figure. By a Matodor, or Mataoras.