I am certain that when Frank Sinatra was a child, he must have gazed at the Manhattan skyline just across the Hudson River. If you’ve ever been to Hoboken, you know that the big city appears to be so close that you can almost reach out and touch the buildings. It’s a place where a young man can dream big dreams. When Sinatra was old enough, he made his escape. For him, and for countless others, “The Apple,” as he called it, became the center of the world.
The esteemed reissue masters at Rhino have chosen to commemorate this love affair between a singer and a city with a new five-disc package called, appropriately, Sinatra: New York. Four of the discs are audio CDs featuring Sinatra concerts from a variety of New York City venues. The earliest performance, on Disc One, was recorded at Manhattan Center in 1955 at an event celebrating the 20th anniversary of the Tommy Dorsey band, a group which Sinatra had famously been part of in the 1940s. Sinatra does three songs with Dorsey and the band for the occasion. The remainder of the disc was recorded at the United Nations in September, 1963. It was U.N. Staff Day, and Sinatra performed accompanied only by pianist Skitch Henderson. Among the songs that day were “I Have Dreamed,” and “My Heart Stood Still,” from the Concert Sinatra album which had been released earlier that year.
Frank Sinatra was only 55 years old when he called it quits in 1971. Somewhat predictably, he returned two years later with Ol’ Blue Eyes Is Back, and a year after that he went on tour to benefit Variety Clubs International, a children’s charity. One of the stops on that tour was at Carnegie Hall on April 8, 1974. There, Sinatra not only sang classics like “I’ve Got You Under My Skin” and “Come Fly With Me,” but dug into his then-new album for splendid versions of “There Used To Be A Ballpark” and “You Will Be My Music.” I was reminded again of Sinatra’s wonderful practice of naming the songwriters of each song that he sang. It was an endearing gesture of respect from the singer to the artists who provided his material. (more…)
I think you’ve gotten us all wrong, and it’s time to set the record straight.
I’m not going to say there isn’t a contingent of malcontents in the field of criticism, because that would be a lie. There are plenty of people who got into the game because of a grudge against that which they’ve chosen to review. I once knew a movie critic, a local guy for a local newspaper, who frequently and regularly savaged the films he saw. It didn’t matter what it was — comedy, drama, animation, universally lauded, universally panned, the danger money was on him trashing the subject. In the meantime, he shopped spec scripts to agents and sent off treatments to studios. The more he sent, the more he was rejected. The more he was rejected, the nastier his criticism became. His reportage was venomous, like hate notes from a spurned lover.
That, right there, is the underlying truth. Even though that writer was an exception to the rule, approaching everything with aforethought disappointment, most of us critics don’t and it is because we’re still in love, if not with the media of our choosing then with the promise that’s always there. Somewhere in our adolescent lives, we stumbled into a movie theater and saw something that set our eyes on fire, made the blood flow a little faster, gave us something we hadn’t experienced up to that point. For me, it was music and I can’t very well say when it first caught on. Was it my mother’s records of The Coasters Greatest Hits, or The Fifth Dimension or even “Cathy’s Clown” by The Everly Brothers? Was it Dad crooning along to Sinatra and Perry Como on those long, languid summer drives? Was it when we lived in that rental house and I played the 45 RPM record of E.L.O.’s “Can’t Get It Out Of My Head” until the sunset, and I stared at that beige United Artists record label spin ’round and ’round? Was it that weird, unsteady feeling I got when the right chords were strung along, exploding into a surprising and pleasant direction? There is a love there that is almost impossible to adequately describe, but is there in most critics. (more…)
The new crop of pop stars could learn a lot from Frank Sinatra. No, they probably won’t match his voice or his depth of feeling. No, they probably will still rely on the celebrity dating and nipple-slips to draw attention when their respective albums fail to. As far as the qualitative end of things, I can’t name one single modern artist who could replace Lanky Frank (this means you, Michael Buble and Josh Groban.) What Sinatra does have in common with Pop ‘09 is that he was an interpreter of other people’s music and songs. Even his classic conceptual Capitol albums, including Only the Lonely and Where Are You?, were the work of other minds yet when he set his voice to them, the songs became his. When you think of “High Hopes” it’s his voice singing them. The same holds true for “All of Me” and even if “Love and Marriage” makes you picture Kelly Bundy, you’ll never mistake who was singing it.
While Capitol’s latest collection lacks the sheer magnitude of its predecessor, it is still a serviceable primer full of songs you know very well. It even has a previously unreleased track, “This Can’t Be Love” but that isn’t really a huge selling point for this set. That it’s 21 tracks for the price of a single disc constitutes a hell of a deal, especially considering how skimpy many of Ol’ Blue Eyes’ other compilations have been, is part of the allure. The true fan probably has the albums these cuts came from, and if they don’t at least have Only the Lonely they ought to be ashamed of themselves, but this really isn’t for them. (more…)
If you’re looking to commemorate the moonwalk—the original moonwalk, that is—on July 20, look not to the stars but to your DVD vendor, and pick up a copy of Al Reinert’s magnificent For All Mankind (1989). The filmmaker contributed to the scripts of Apollo 13 (1995) and the HBO miniseries From the Earth to the Moon (1998), but this isn’t standard docudrama, not that those two accounts are unworthy of phrase. In one of the supplements on this newly remastered Criterion Collection disc (which supersedes a 2000 edition), Reinert says the U.S. government emphasized the political and scientific aims of the Apollo missions; his aim was to retrieve the artistic side, which was ripe for discovery in the millions of feet of film archived at the Johnson Space Center.
Reinert, who had logged dozens of hours of interviews with the Apollo astronauts he calls “extraterrestrial humans,” was the right person for the job. In 80 minutes the film distills the essence of the program, using the best footage from all the flights to convey the excitement of liftoff, landing, exploration, and return. For his purpose Reinert considered Apollo “different takes from the same script,” for which he used material left on the center’s extremely well-maintained cutting-room floor. The astronauts were equipped with 16mm data-acquisition cameras and, outside of certain specific tasks, were allowed to use them as they wished.
Their awestruck, even foolhardy, tourism brings us closer to the “magnificent desolation” of the moon than ever before, in previously unseen moments that didn’t make the newscasts. One of the astronauts (who typically favored Merle Haggard, Buck Owens, and Frank Sinatra on the job) plays Richard Strauss’ “Thus Spake Zarathustra” in one segment, and refers to the great success of 2001. (I trust he didn’t see Robert Altman’s 1968 drama Countdown, which imagines a brutally ironic outcome after that one small step for man is taken.) It’s fun to watch the lunar module zip along the moon’s surface, and more amusing still when one of the astronauts trips and stumbles on an outcropping of rock—until we’re reminded that a single tiny tear in the suit would have been deadly. The ultimate reality show, which seems to have gone off the air permanently in 1972, mingled great beauty with great fearlessness and ingenuity. (more…)
If you’ve ever ventured into that thicket of sweetness and stress known as Planning A Wedding, you’ve probably at least considered buying one (or five) of those awful compilations of “wedding music.” They come in all sorts of flavors – classical, country, Contemporary Christian, pop standards, classic R&B – and they’ve got icky titles like A Day to Remember, or Songs That Say “I Love You.” They tend to feature a lot of the same songs, like “Always and Forever,” and “Three Times a Lady,” and “Wonderful Tonight,” and Pachelbel’s Canon, and “The Way You Look Tonight,” and that horrible Boyz II Men song “On Bended Knee.” And, just like the Book of Common Prayer, they’re all diabolically designed to make your nuptials sound just like everybody else’s.
My wife Gwen and I wed 15 years ago today, and to celebrate that occasion – along with the onset of the June wedding season – I thought I’d give Popdose’s loyal readers an anniversary present: a mixtape of wedding songs and stories from some of our columnists, and an opportunity to share your own remembrances and ideas in the comments. These songs aren’t your garden-variety bridal standards; in fact, a few of them are downright bizarre. But even if you don’t find them suitable for your own purposes the next time you get hitched, hopefully they’ll inspire you and your betrothed to follow your own muse, and not some music conglomerate’s. Click here for a compressed file of all the tracks featured here, and read on! (more…)
Wasn’t aware that Uncle Donnie had a hand in the movie business until I found this missive. Of course, the “properties” he’s pushing probably explain why. Still, wouldn’t it be cool to see J-Lo play Selena again? —RS
TO: Jennifer Lopez
FROM: Don Skwatzenschitz
RE: Career Advice
J-Lo! It’s D-Skwatz. How are you, babe? How are the twins? No, not those twins—the babies! Ha! Mitzi sends her best to you and Mark. Speaking of the hubby, last time we saw you two (at Mottola’s rooftop garden party), Mitzi offered to send him one of her crochet hoodies, if he’d send her your mailing address. I told her to just send it to your management, but she’s insistent. So if you get the chance, tell us where you live, or get Marc to give Mitzi a call. The hoody is really cozy in the winter.
Where have you been? I know motherhood takes a lot of work, but did you have to disappear? I know, there’s a red carpet here, an awards show there, but you haven’t been seen, you know, really professionally, in quite a while. Making yourself scarce certainly helps build a bit of mystique around you, but enough is enough. Besides, you’re a mystery like I’m a breakdancer. Boogaloo Skwatzenschitz I ain’t, honey (though I have been known to “bust a move,” as you say, when I hear that sax from “Get Right “).
So it’s time to relaunch J-Lo—you, your career, your brand, everything. The whole nueve yardas. I have a few ideas, as you might guess—I’m an idea guy. Here are mine for you:
Get back into movies. I have two really hot properties you’d be perfect for, The first is called The League of Zombie Entertainers. It’s 2025, and thanks to a strange lab experiment, Frank Sinatra, Patsy Cline, Jim Croce, and Selena are reanimated in space and sent back to Earth to fight crime. Their travel is facilitated by Cher, who we all know can move between the living and undead with ease. I’ve got Harry Connick lined up as Ol’ Blue Eyes, Faith Hill as Patsy Cline, Jason Lee as Croce, and you, I’ve got penciled in as Selena, naturally. Better act quickly, though; that little trollop Shakira wants in and my backers are getting antsy. Oh, and I’ve got Ben Affleck signed on to play Cher—that won’t be a problem, will it? The other film is a biopic—Rita Moreno: The Electric Company Years. Needless to say, lots of drugs and nudity. Big Oscar possibilities, though.
I may have to change my radio habits. As a general habit, my car is tuned to the local public radio station out of New York. I like it, it keeps me informed, and some of the shows are entertaining. Others are less so, but that’s not why I might need to de-program the station from my settings: It’s pledge drive week, a necessary evil for such outlets. I understand it. I accept it. This time they’ve gone too far, though and, for once and for all, it might be time for NPR to suffer the cost of affiliate ignorance — yes, ignorance, for the stunt they pulled today left only one thought on my mind, and only one statement on my lips: How dare you. How Dare You.
We all know the drill. They need your pledge money. If you’re listening to their programming of your own volition and not contributing, then yes, you’re a sort of a drain on their resources. They play this card more often than they say “you know.”
“You know, Griselda, for a contribution of $120, you’re funding this great resource with only ten dollars every month.”
“You know, Herbert, you can’t get programming like this anywhere else.”
“I know, Griselda. You know, we can’t do it without member contributions…” and so forth. Invariably, either Herbert or Griselda, later in the day, will feel the need to play the good cop/bad cop game. They take to the airwaves with guilt trips, condemnations and accusations. “Why should someone else shoulder the financial burden of supporting this station while you, also a listener, do not? Do you think that’s fair? Do you think that’s right?”
Let me answer a question with another question. Did you listen to the news break that preceded your money-raising rant? Didn’t you just hear Carl Kasell say that the American economy had just hit a quarter-century low? Didn’t you hear that in a single week the unemployment rate jumped a level ordinarily deemed risky by standards of a month, not seven days? How about that report about how many people got super-sick with the flu over the winter because, without their jobs, they also didn’t have medical coverage to do something about it? Of course you didn’t — because your righteous angst over who is and isn’t paying into your broadcast coffers is not about right and wrong or ignorance vs. knowledge.
You know, Herbert and Griselda, your spiel is mostly about you both being worried you’re not going to get paid this week. Welcome to the real world and get the hell off your high horse. Did you truly think your usual tactics were appropriate in the new economic climate? Did you bother to check that copy before you both opened your mindless, fatuous mouths on the air, spouting that same canned crap you’ve been plopping on our lawns all these years? No, you didn’t. You couldn’t even be bothered to listen to your own station when the bad news was breaking. People are going to be homeless soon. They’re going to die of easily treatable ailments because there’s no proper system in place to help them through it. Are they worried that they’re stealing your precious knowledge, not kicking in for the cost of this berating? (more…)
Valentine’s Day – depending on your walk of life, it’s either a splendid day of warm, romantic thoughts and a gimme so far as “gettin’ some tonight,” or it’s a Hallmark sham of an institution to remind us that all our friends are happily married and having kids, but we’re about to dip our Doritos into another vat of guacamole all alone. Since I’m flying solo this year, guess who’s fattening up on avocado?
You don’t have to be a heartless cynic to see the strings attached to this high holiday of chocolate-covered, heart-shaped, red crepe emotion. Take, for instance, Sony Legacy’s From The Heart collection. Eight CDs cut and pasted together to capitalize celebrate the spirit of l’amour, all representing a different demographic: Billie Holliday and Miles Davis if you love it jazzy, Babyface if you love it smooth and sensitive, The Isley Brothers if you don’t mind a little rugburn with your affection, Dolly Parton if you like doin’ the nasty while the livestock watches, and Air Supply if the woman in your life is actually a dude (sorry, cheap shot.)
But what to make of Frank Sinatra’s From the Heart? It doesn’t seem right to co-opt the Chairman of the Board for such a crass cash-in, and besides, we remember him more for his zingers and sad songs than for mushy love. “The Lady Is a Tramp”? How about “One for My Baby (And One More for the Road)”? Worse, it’s the same album the label released last year under the umbrella of Beautiful Ballads & Love Songs, so not only are they messing around with Ol’ Blue Eyes, they’re regifting him too. Yet there is one saving grace to this: if you are not an aficionado and have been looking to get your feet wet, this is an affordable starter set that’s full of appeal. (more…)
Once upon a time
A girl with moonlight in her eyes
Put her hand in mine
And said she loved me so
But that was once upon a time
Very long ago
It is one of my earliest memories. My family is heading home late on a Sunday night. It’s winter. My father is at the wheel, my mother beside him on the passenger side. She’s wearing a mink coat. It’s long before fur becomes unacceptable. The radio is tuned to WPAT, a station that features soft music. Sinatra is singing “Once Upon a Time.” From the back seat, my hands find the softness of my mother’s coat. The Parkway miles disappear beneath us in the cold Jersey night. The world is perfect.
A few years later she would say, “Someday you’ll grow up and appreciate good music.” By then The Beatles were here, and I was waving the rock ‘n’ roll flag high. “Not a chance,” I would reply derisively. You can afford to be smug when you’re a know nothing kid. In case I never told you, Mom, thanks, you were right again.
In the wee small hours of the morning
While the whole wide world is fast asleep
You lie awake and think about the girl
And never ever think of counting sheep
Flash forward to the ‘90s. It’s Saturday night. Date night. Now I’m in the driver’s seat, and Susan is next to me. The mellow voice coming from the radio is that of Sid Mark, with his “Saturday With Sinatra” program. Mark’s theme song is “In the Wee Small Hours of the Morning,” and the song’s opening notes fill me with a warmth that will have to light many lonely nights when the girl leaves me for an older man who will give her the security that I cannot provide.
I’m wild again
Beguiled again
A whimpering, simpering child again
Bewitched, bothered, and bewildered am I (more…)
I am certain that when Frank Sinatra was a child, he must have gazed at the Manhattan skyline just across the Hudson River. If you’ve ever been to Hoboken, you know that the big city appears to be so close that you can almost reach out and touch the buildings. It’s a place where a young man can dream big dreams. When Sinatra was old enough, he made his escape. For him, and for countless others, “The Apple,” as he called it, became the center of the world.
The new crop of pop stars could learn a lot from Frank Sinatra. No, they probably won’t match his voice or his depth of feeling. No, they probably will still rely on the celebrity dating and nipple-slips to draw attention when their respective albums fail to. As far as the qualitative end of things, I can’t name one single modern artist who could replace Lanky Frank (this means you, Michael Buble and Josh Groban.) What Sinatra does have in common with Pop ‘09 is that he was an interpreter of other people’s music and songs. Even his classic conceptual Capitol albums, including Only the Lonely and Where Are You?, were the work of other minds yet when he set his voice to them, the songs became his. When you think of “High Hopes” it’s his voice singing them. The same holds true for “All of Me” and even if “Love and Marriage” makes you picture Kelly Bundy, you’ll never mistake who was singing it.
I may have to change my radio habits. As a general habit, my car is tuned to the local public radio station out of New York. I like it, it keeps me informed, and some of the shows are entertaining. Others are less so, but that’s not why I might need to de-program the station from my settings: It’s pledge drive week, a necessary evil for such outlets. I understand it. I accept it. This time they’ve gone too far, though and, for once and for all, it might be time for NPR to suffer the cost of affiliate ignorance — yes, ignorance, for the stunt they pulled today left only one thought on my mind, and only one statement on my lips: How dare you. How Dare You.
Frank Sinatra – From the Heart (2009, Legacy)
