A Love That Finds Beauty in Imperfection
There are songs that never grow old because they speak not of passion’s fire, but of love’s quiet endurance — love that forgives, understands, and finds beauty in what the world might call flaws. “My Funny Valentine”, sung with gentle grace by Johnny Mathis, is one of those songs. It is not just a ballad; it is a whisper of affection that lingers across generations, a melody that feels like candlelight flickering against time.
When Mathis recorded “My Funny Valentine” in 1959 for his album Heavenly, the song was already more than two decades old. Originally written by Richard Rodgers and Lorenz Hart for the 1937 Broadway musical Babes in Arms, it was first performed on stage by Mitzi Green. Yet it was Mathis’s version — smooth, tender, and dreamlike — that gave the song a new life beyond the theater. While his rendition was never released as a charting single, it became one of his most cherished performances, admired for its elegance and sincerity.
What makes Mathis’s “My Funny Valentine” so enduring is its emotional honesty. The song’s lyrics are deceptively simple: “Your looks are laughable, unphotographable, yet you’re my favorite work of art.” But beneath that gentle teasing lies one of the most profound expressions of love ever written — a declaration that real affection is not about perfection at all. It is about seeing someone fully, with all their quirks and shadows, and loving them even more for it.
Mathis’s voice, as always, is velvet — clear yet tender, polished yet personal. His phrasing feels effortless, but every word carries weight. He doesn’t sing the song as a grand statement; he breathes it, as if speaking directly to someone across a dimly lit room. The orchestration behind him — soft strings, brushed cymbals, and restrained piano — only deepens that intimacy. It’s not a performance that dazzles; it soothes. It belongs to the kind of love that stays after the excitement fades — the kind built on quiet devotion and understanding.
Behind the song lies a story both beautiful and bittersweet. Lorenz Hart, the lyricist, was known for his brilliance and his loneliness. Small in stature and troubled in heart, he often poured his insecurities into his writing. “My Funny Valentine” was, in many ways, his confession — a reflection of how love can find worth in imperfection. And in the hands of Mathis, that confession becomes something universal. You can hear in his tone the tenderness of someone who has known love not just in its youth, but in its patience and forgiveness.
Through the years, countless artists have recorded the song — from Frank Sinatra to Ella Fitzgerald, from Chet Baker’s fragile trumpet to Sarah Vaughan’s smoky jazz phrasing. Yet Mathis’s rendition remains distinct. He did not try to reinvent it; he simply understood it. Where others leaned into melancholy or sophistication, Mathis offered warmth. He let the song breathe, allowed silence to sit between phrases, and in doing so, turned it into something deeply human.
To listen to Johnny Mathis – “My Funny Valentine” is to be reminded that love, at its truest, is never about flawless beauty. It is about the small things — the lopsided smile, the soft laugh, the familiar imperfection that makes someone irreplaceable. It’s a song for those who have lived long enough to know that time changes everything except the feeling of being loved for who we are.
Even now, when the first few notes play, something stirs inside. It’s not nostalgia alone; it’s recognition — the quiet knowledge that once, someone might have looked at you and thought, “Stay, little Valentine — stay.” And in that moment, the years seem to fade, and all that remains is the gentle, everlasting truth of a song that has never stopped meaning something.