Besame Mucho by Steve Lawrence & Eydie Gorme: A Timeless Spin on Pop Vocals
Let’s cut to the chase—this album isn’t just another pop vocal record. Released in 2007 under the Remember label (yep, outta Portugal), Besame Mucho feels like finding an old vinyl at a flea market and realizing it’s gold. Steve Lawrence and Eydie Gorme? They’re not messing around here. These two have chemistry that could light up Lisbon, or maybe even the whole dang Iberian Peninsula.
Now, let’s talk tracks because there are some real gems in this collection of 23 songs. You’ve got bangers like “Knickerbocker Mambo” and heart-melters like “Besame Mucho.” But if I had to pick two that stuck with me, I’d go with “Poinciana” and “Close Your Eyes (Take A Deep Breath).”
“Poinciana” is one of those tunes where you kinda forget you're listening to music—it’s more like floating downstream on a lazy river made entirely of silk sheets. The rhythm? Smooth as butter melting on warm toast. And Eydie’s voice? She doesn’t sing; she paints. It’s dreamy without being overly sugary, which is rare for a song from this era. Honestly, every time I hear it, I feel like I should be sipping something fancy while staring at palm trees swaying in slow motion.
Then there’s “Close Your Eyes (Take A Deep Breath).” Whoa, okay, hold up. This track hits different. It’s cozy but also kinda haunting, like when you pull an old sweater out of storage and find a letter tucked inside the pocket. Steve takes the lead here, and his delivery is so raw, so unfiltered, it almost feels accidental—as though he didn’t mean to pour his soul into the mic. By the second chorus, you’ll wanna grab someone close and whisper, “Hey, listen to this part again.” Or maybe that’s just me. Either way, it sticks.
The rest of the album keeps the vibe alive with playful numbers like “The Banana Boat Song” and swoon-worthy ballads like “How Many Stars Have To Shine.” Even lesser-known tracks like “Frenesi” bring their own spice to the mix. There’s no filler here—just pure, polished storytelling through melody.
But what makes Besame Mucho stand out isn’t just its sound—it’s how it transports you. Listening to this feels like stepping into a black-and-white movie where everyone wears suits and dresses, smokes cigars they don’t inhale, and dances like nobody’s watching. Except we are watching, and it’s freaking beautiful.
Here’s the kicker, though. As much as this album celebrates love, longing, and life, it somehow leaves you feeling nostalgic for moments you never lived. Like, did I actually slow-dance to “Tea For Two” in a dimly lit room somewhere? Nope. But my brain sure thinks I did.
So yeah, Besame Mucho might’ve dropped in 2007, but it’s timeless enough to make you question your own timeline. Maybe that’s why it works so well—it reminds us that good music doesn’t age. It just waits patiently for us to catch up.
