Plenty has already been (and will be) written about the recently deceased Burt Bacharach, and how his work represents the acme of popular songwriting. Suffice it to say, his career spanned multiple decades, and many of the most memorable melodies penned during my own lifetime turn out to have been Bacharach (& David) compositions (even if I didn't know it at the time personally). Instead of adding to the forest of words surrounding his passing, it seems more fitting to just let the music be his true memorial...
To me, that represents a perfect example of a perfect tune, delivered perfectly. Although written for Dionne Warwick originally, I think it was Aretha who most best divined the profound depths of soul within the song.
The following seems to demonstrate how effortlessly Bacharach's writing transcended fashion, and the ever-shifting sands of genre, down the years. I sometimes wonder if much of the later classic Bristol/Trip-Hop sound, for which I still hold great affection - doesn't just boil down to that wandering piano riff.
Walk on, Sir...
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