Like the light in Italy lost its way across the sea

Last night I got this four-note piano phrase stuck in my brain, and it was about two hours before I realized it's the main "riff" from Kate Bush's song "Prologue," on the "Sky of Honey" disc from her newest album, "Aerial." My brain (as I'm sure is the case with many of you) is this huge teeming, tangled catalogue of songs, lyrics, riffs, snatches of sound, and it's always playing something. Once in a while, a song I haven't thought about or heard in a while comes on in the radio station of my mind, demanding to be heard, and it's always perfect, exactly what I need. Sometimes it's embarrassing how much I need music, how I self-medicate with it, and how easily and completely it rights me again. Like how, parting at the international security gates last weekend with a friend I hadn't seen in 10 years, the bass intro to Silversun Pickups' "Three Seed" came into in my head. I listened to it on my iPod until the metro came to take me home. I was so sad, but trying not to break, and that song held me together and got me back safely across that heartache bridge. Today, I played and replayed "Prologue," just loving that piano line, its simplicity and melancholy, how slow and thoughtful the song is. I thought about how "Sky of Honey" is mostly songs about a single evening, from afternoon to sunset to midnight -- and how perfect and ironic it is that Kate took so long to release this album, in which she memorializes a gorgeous summer evening. Years spent in an idyllic day. And I'm so thankful, if even just for those four notes, rising and falling again, and the lines: Every time you leave us, So Summer will be goneSo you'll never grow old to usIt's gonna be so good nowIt's gonna be so goodCan you see the lark ascending?Oh so romantic, swept me off my feetLike some kind of magicLike the light in Italy lost its way across the sea.Edit: Someone has made a gorgeous video for the song. Enjoy: