One for My Baby

"...After Sinatra (who patterned his phrasing on Dorsey's trombone), no instrumentalist would rival a singer as the essential player in pop music. While learning much from the melodic qualities of bel canto and from Bing Crosby's crooning (both forms emphasizing the sound of lyrics rather than their sense), Sinatra sang with a sure understanding of American speech- Crosby deployed words as mellifluous syllables; Sinatra interpreted them, and in doing so, not only made language matter in a way it had mattered only in blues, folk and country music, but, however unconsciously, paved the way for Dylan and the language experiments of '60's songwriters. Sinatra's colloquialism, too, helped make American music the world's primary popular form."
-Rolling Stone Album Guide

Back in the mid-80's every Saturday afternoon there was a two hour radio show on WMCN-FM 91.7, that featured the music of Frank Sinatra interspersed with the strange musings of a zany local DJ. The show opened with the song High Hopes and usually concluded with the DJ apologizing for his own performance over the previous two hours.

On one particular blustery autumn afternoon, something inside the disc jockey seemingly snapped and he went into a tirade that rivaled Howard Beale's in Network in the annals of broadcast history, only the DJ's tirade wasn't so much about the medium, it was about whether or not he was just sitting in an empty studio playing music with no one listening, and talking to himself. Surprisingly enough, people throughout St. Paul called in sympathetically, to tell the DJ how much they had enjoyed his show, his attempts at humor, his hijinx and above all Mr. Sinatra's music. The lesson learned was that no matter how badly you screw up, a Sinatra song can go a long way towards cleaning up the mess ("riding high in April, shot down in May").

Sinatra himself is notorious for his bouncing back from an up and down career. When he left Tommy Dorsey he was the bobby socks teen throb crooner. When he left Columbia, he was finished. He came back with Capitol where he made his best music, and his career was revived by a brilliant performance in From Here to Eternity. In the early 70's, supposedly retired, he came back with the remarkable Madison Square Garden Main Event Concert. Watching a video of that performance, one can't help but be mesmerized by the charisma of the singing and STYLE. Whenever someone counted him down and out, he would comeback strong, etching his way into the fabric of 20th Century American music.

He invented performance art before it became a fad for throwing blood at the audience. He poured his soul out into his art; listen to songs like One For My Baby, Nancy (With the Laughing Face), I'm A Fool To Want You, sheer heart breaking, skin tingling stuff. Whatever song he does (with the possible exception of Mrs. Robinson), he makes his own, records the ultimate version.

I became a skeptical, but life long fan during the summer between my freshman and sophomore years of college. My best friend and I took a trip to his cabin in Osakis, and on the drive there, he played his Sinatra tapes. At first it seemed silly- old timers music, being the hip guy I was, but it struck me odd that I knew all the songs (classics), and as we sang along, I grew to admire Sinatra's interpretations. The man somehow gets under your skin. For awhile all I wanted to hear was another Sinatra reading of another favorite song.

The LP that really got me was a 1964 recording with Count Basie called It Might As Well Be Swing. Frank and Splank. I soon wore that record out and with the additions of Songs for Swingin Lovers, and Sings for Only The Lonely, the artistry was appreciated more and more despite the reputation, the Vegas, finger snappin' Mafia rumors act. What is there to admire? How about the who cares what people think, I know I'm right and I'm going down that path and you're all going to follow me and we all might fall, and we all might stumble, but in the end the journey will be worth it so enjoy the ride, attitude? A few years later when I sat in an empty station, the failed DJ, and did my part to turn another generation on to the Chairman's music, it seemed a noble thing to do.

SO, this past Thursday evening as I was trying to make it to my niece's band concert, and unfortunately got myself wedged in a snow bank on the corner of Summit and Wheeler, I got myself home in time to see the final part of the big birthday bash for Francis Albert. All the stress, the anger of the day dissipated yet again as I listened and watched and smiled along with Frank. When I find myself in times of trouble, it ain't Mother Mary that comes to me, it's Sir Francis Albert. The songs speak for themselves. The LP's, the movies, the many concerts, he has become an American icon. And he did it his way.