Q…For Quando, Quando, Quando


“So…” my sister said.  “What are you planning to use for ‘Q’ day?” 

I’d had a couple ideas.  Que Sera Sera was out. Not because I didn’t like the sentiment, but because there were nothing but cutesy performances.  Juice Newton’s song from the 70’s, – the Queen of Hearts – was a strong contender.  It’s another I’ll sing along with.  Actually, that was the original winner.

And then I came up with this.  I was planning to post this as a humorous bit.  You know: one of those songs where you know one or two lines and the rest you just sort of fill in.

The song is ‘Quando, Quando, Quando’.  I’ve always liked the tune, but I never knew the words.  It was originally written in Italian and was a hit from the sixties – a little prior to my listening era. 

I liked the tune, but the words –

‘La-da-dee-dah- dahdah-dee!  Dee may quando quando quando’

Nope.  Too stupid.  So I found Juice Newton singing Queen of Hearts.  And then, for the heck of it, I did a search on YouTube for Quando Quando Quando.  I found Engelbert Humperdinck in an early iteration in the Hollywood Bowl surrounded by dancers in gold sequined bras and gold lame’ bell bottoms.  His trousers appeared to have been spray-painted on. 
But then I found this video with the Kessler Twins.  They were a pair of dancers who were very very good.  Enjoy the video.  Click on THIS to see it…

And here are the lyrics in the original Italian.
Dimmi quando tu verrai

dimmi quando quando quando

l’anno il giorno l’ora in cui

forse tu mi bacerai

ogni istante attendero’

fino a quando quando quando

d’improvviso ti vedro’

sorridente accanto a me

se vuoi dirmi di si

devi dirlo perchè

non ha senso per me

la mia vita senza te

dimmi quando tu verrai

dimmi quando quando quando

e baciandomi dirai

non ci lasceremo mai

se vuoi dirmi di si

devi dirlo perchè

non ha senso per me

la mia vita senza te

dimmi quando tu verrai

dimmi quando quando quando

e baciandomi dirai

non ci lasceremo mai

dimmi quando tu verrai

dimmi quando quando quando
(and if you go searching and find Michael Buble’s version, don’t bother.  This song was written to be performed to a bossa nova beat, not a ‘Hamlet’s Soliloquy’ beat)

P is for Pirates, Peter Pan and the Plank Song


Today I’m writing about Pirates, Peter Pan and the Plank song.

Leonard Bernstein composed a musical version of Peter Pan in 1950.  It starred Jean Arthur as Peter Pan and – wait for it – Boris Karloff as Captain Hook (and Mr. Darling).  I loved the recording they had (never reissued, darn it) and to this day I can recite huge portions of it.  I used one of Hook’s soliloquys as an exercise in my Drama class, and was told that I was cheating.

My father described Karloff’s performance  as ‘chewing the scenery’, and he was right.  Karloff must have enjoyed himself with the part.

The songs were as good, musically, as you might expect with a composer like Bernstein.  The lyricist had his tongue firmly in  his cheek when he or she wrote the lyrics.  The pirates were especially fun, and whenever one or another of them showed up, you were guaranteed to laugh.  They made it a matter of pride to be as nasty as possible.  The first time you hear of them, they are singing the pirate song:

– The evilest creatures in all the earth! (sung by the basses)
    –  the evilest creatures in al the word! (sung by the tenors)
– We are eviler far than the Tenors are!
     – it is true that the basses have eviler faces but we are more evil inside!
(click on THIS LINK to go to Amazon and listen to an excerpt of the song)

 

Captain Hook makes his appearance at last (nice makeup job!) and as he tangles with Peter Pan and captures the Lost Boys he sings today’s song, the plank song:

Oh, there was a man and his name was Frank –
Hey ho for the old man Frank!
But he had bad habits, cursed and drank!
We had to make him walk the plank! – plank! – plank! plank!

It goes into a round, properly raucous.  My favorite!  If you want to listen, click on THE PLANK SONG (below) nd listen to Boris Karloff sing about walking the plank.  I never thought I’d hear it again.  I wonder if I can find the whole record…

THE PLANK SONG

http://www.myspace.com/music/buttons/js

Old Time Rock & Roll…


So you’re in a grocery store, going up and down the aisles, eyeing the chicken stock (too much sugar!  Yowza!  Look at that salt!) tossing cereal boxes in your cart, scowling over the teas (‘don’t they have any black tea???’)

The store’s loudspeaker blares its usual announcements about specials in aisle 2, and how the holidays are coming so you’d best stock up.  Then they go back to the background music and you start listening…

That gritty voice – those words –

You start singing, and you can hear others of your age doing the same.

Call me a relic, call me what you will-
Say I’m old fashioned, say I’m over the hill!
That kind of music ain’t got the same soul!
Give me that old time Rock and Roll!

Yeah!  Happens every time.

Here it is:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SsSVcRYh8dE

(Public service announcement – A to Z’ers: I have been terribly busy with various things for the past week and a half and haven’t been able to visit anything or comment.  That will change after this weekend.  Please accept my apologies…)

N for New York, New York


Graphics by Yours Truly

Somehow, I started thinking of New York when it came to the Ns.  I have to visit a dear old friend (not so old, but a longstanding one) in New York City, and I was thinking of the places I want to go when we visit.  Odd to think I met her my first day in 9th grade when I was a skinny fourteen-year-old in a new school wondering if I’d like it.  Well, I did, and I liked all my friends and it was a good day.

My friend settled in New York City, which is a good thing.

I love New York City, from the various parks to the shopping to the Metropolitan Museum of Art.  I remember the first time I went there armed with a camera.  One of the staff saw me in the Egyptian rooms and insisted on taking me to see his very favorite artifact – a thumbnail-high face and head of a Nubian.  The features were realistic and you could see every lock of hair surrounding the handsome, African face.  He said it was a shame no  one noticed it. 

I was offered a job, when I was living in Philadelphia (another city I love) that would take me out of day-shot of New York.  I turned it down. 

I’ll be visiting in May, by golly, and I’m ready. 

And my N song is New York, New York, sung by Frank Sinatra. 
Who can beat Old Blue Eyes and this song?  I managed to find a live performance.   

The man sings pretty well without a mixer – and you get the interaction you only find in a live performance.  I found myself laughing.

Enjoy it!

NEW YORK, NEW YORK

M – The Mary Ellen Carter


“Learn this song.  You’ll need it some day.” 

I read those words once in an essay about folk songs.  The writer’s grandmother had been teaching her a song.  She said that she had smiled to herself at the time – she was a lot younger – but when the time came she realized that they were true.   Humans have many ways or arming and enriching themselves, and one of them is in words.  A verse from a poem, a passage in a book – there are many things that remind us that we do not stand alone, that others have gone before us down the same paths we are navigating now, and feeling the same fears and pain…

So, a year or so ago, there was me.  I had picked up a recording by Trad Routes, a little Irish group that perform in pubs and at folk festivals in Ireland  They have quite a following.  I had never heard of them, but I saw a CD by them in a thrift store, the titles looked interesting, and I bought it.  The Celts and the Gaels are generally very musical.  Most of the songs that I like – the older ones – are set to older Celtic tunes (‘Morning has Broken’, for example).  I got the CD, put it in my car’s player, and drove along, listening to the music.

Some were good, a traditional song about a victory of an Irish army over an English one three times its size.  Some not so good, for the most part the fault of the tenor, who had an emotional voice but couldn’t carry a tune in places.  The baritone, now, with the banjo was very good.

So I went through the songs as I drove along, and I encountered The Mary Ellen Carter. 

She went down last October in a pouring driving rain.

The skipper, he’d been drinking and the Mate, he felt no pain.
Too close to Three Mile Rock, and she was dealt her mortal blow,
And the Mary Ellen Carter settled low.

I love seafaring songs.  It comes of growing up in the Navy.  I love schooners and sloops, and for some reason I thought the Mary Ellen Carter was a schooner.

The words continued:

Well, the owners wrote her off; not a nickel would they spend.

“She gave twenty years of service, boys, then met her sorry end.
But insurance paid the loss to us,” they let her rest below.
Then they laughed at us and said we had to go.

But we talked of her all winter, some days around the clock,

For she’s worth a quarter million, afloat and at the dock.
And with every jar that hit the bar, we swore we would remain
And make the Mary Ellen Carter rise again.

Hm, thought I.  This is interesting.  I listened as they spoke of their efforts – the five who remained with her until she sank beneath the waves –

But we’ve patched her rents, stopped her vents, dogged hatch and porthole down.
Put cables to her, ‘fore and aft and girded her around.
Tomorrow, noon, we hit the air and then take up the strain.
And make the Mary Ellen Carter Rise Again!

Very good! I thought, smiling and making a right turn.  The song went on about how they were doing this, and why, and what hopes they had.  And then I was knocked breathless:

And you, to whom adversity has dealt the final blow

With smiling bastards lying to you everywhere you go
Turn to, and put out all your strength of arm and heart and brain
And like the Mary Ellen Carter, rise again. 

Rise again, rise again – though your heart it be broken

And life about to end
No matter what you’ve lost, be it a home, a love, a friend.
Like the Mary Ellen Carter, rise again.

I was breathless – I had needed those words.  I wasn’t alonE against the ‘smiling bastards’ who were lying to me.  Others had been through it and their hope gave me hope.  I listened again.

Here is the song (CLICK FOR THE LINK).  It isn’t sung by Trad Routes, unfortunately, but it’s a decent rendition, though the photo leaves something to be desired.  Listen to the song.  You need it.

THE MARY ELLEN CARTER


She went down last October in a pouring driving rain.

The skipper, he’d been drinking and the Mate, he felt no pain.
Too close to Three Mile Rock, and she was dealt her mortal blow,
And the Mary Ellen Carter settled low.
There were just us five aboard her when she finally was awash.
We’d worked like hell to save her, all heedless of the cost.
And the groan she gave as she went down, it caused us to proclaim
That the Mary Ellen Carter would rise again.

Well, the owners wrote her off; not a nickel would they spend.

“She gave twenty years of service, boys, then met her sorry end.
But insurance paid the loss to us, so let her rest below.”
Then they laughed at us and said we had to go.

But we talked of her all winter, some days around the clock,
For she’s worth a quarter million, afloat and at the dock.
And with every jar that hit the bar, we swore we would remain
And make the Mary Ellen Carter rise again.

Rise again, rise again, that her name not be lost

To the knowledge of men.
Those who loved her best and were with her till the end
Will make the Mary Ellen Carter rise again.

All spring, now, we’ve been with her on a barge lent by a friend.

Three dives a day in hard hat suit and twice I’ve had the bends.
Thank God it’s only sixty feet and the currents here are slow
Or I’d never have the strength to go below.
But we’ve patched her rents, stopped her vents, dogged hatch and porthole down.
Put cables to her, ‘fore and aft and girded her around.
Tomorrow, noon, we hit the air and then take up the strain.
And make the Mary Ellen Carter Rise Again.

For we couldn’t leave her there, you see, to crumble into scale.

She’d saved our lives so many times, living through the gale
And the laughing, drunken rats who left her to a sorry grave
They won’t be laughing in another day. . .

And you, to whom adversity has dealt the final blow
With smiling bastards lying to you everywhere you go
Turn to, and put out all your strength of arm and heart and brain
And like the Mary Ellen Carter, rise again.

Rise again, rise again – though your heart it be broken

And life about to end
No matter what you’ve lost, be it a home, a love, a friend.
Like the Mary Ellen Carter, rise again.

Written and recorded by Stan Rogers on Between the Breaks ….Live.
Copyright Fogarty’s Cove Music, FCM 002

L – The Living Years


I’m traveling, with computer problems (finally fixed – my father’s old computer; he died in August and my delightful mother is something of a Luddite).

Today’s song is The Living Years by Mike & the Mechanics.  This song always makes me think of the need to tell those we love that we love them while we’re with them.  Thank goodness I learned the lesson a few years back.  Dad (and my mother) both knew how much I appreciated and loved them.



The Living Years – Mike & The Mechanics
Every generation
Blames the one before
And all of their frustrations
Come beating on your door

I know that I’m a prisoner
To all my father held so dear
I know that I’m a hostage
To all his hopes and fears
I just wish I could have told him in the living years

Crumpled bits of paper
Filled with imperfect thought
Stilted conversations
I’m afraid that’s all we’ve got

You say you just don’t see it
He says it’s perfect sense
You just can’t get agreement
In this present tense
We all talk a different language
Talking in defense

Say it loud, say it clear
You can listen as well as you hear
It’s too late when we die
To admit we don’t see eye to eye

So we open up a quarrel
Between the present and the past
We only sacrifice the future
It’s the bitterness that lasts

So don’t yield to the fortunes
You sometimes see as fate
It may have a new perspective
On a different date
And if you don’t give up, and don’t give in
You may just be okay

I wasn’t there that morning
When my father passed away
I didn’t get to tell him
All the things I had to say

I think I caught his spirit
Later that same year
I’m sure I heard his echo
In my baby’s new born tears
I just wish I could have told him in the living years

Say it loud, say it clear
You can listen as well as you hear
It’s too late when we die
To admit we don’t see eye to eye

 

(The Living Years lyrics by Mike & The Mechanics is copyrighted
and is quoted here for non-commercial purposes)

Click here to see this splendid video on YouTube

K = so many choices…


K is one of those letters, for song titles, that leaves me at a loss when I’m sifting through the dust and cobwebs that others call ‘the top of my head’.  I actually went to one of those sites that lists songs by the first letter of the title, and goodness knows they had quite a few:
 

Karma Chameleon– ‘comma, comma, comma chameleon’
Key Largo
Killing Me Softly With His Song (I didn’t care much for this one.  I wondered why she didn’t just get up and walk out…)
Knowing Me, Knowing You – (ABBA – colorful eighties – what’s not to like?)
Kodachrome – (I took myself off my high school alumni association.  The opening line of Paul Simon’s song says it perfectly about the sort of nonsense they were teaching there.  We spent a lot of time excavating the writers’ personalities through their books.  None of it was valid.  So when I first heard the first line – ‘When I look back at all the cr@p I learned in high school, it’s a wonder I can think at all’ – I couldn’t stop laughing.  And I still love it)
Kookaburra – this one nearly made the cut
 
But I found myself looking back to the First World War, the sacrifices families made during that time, and the utter devastation that those young men went into.  My grandfather was a WWI vet, and I remember him speaking of crossing the battlefield of Verdun.
 
“Planes flying overhead, suddenly – BANG! here and BANG! there…”
K-K-K-Katy…



     My father and uncle fought in World War II, my mother was a plane spotter in the little town of Arlington, Vermont, people knitted blanket squares (Mom sincerely pities those who got hers) and they all rationed. And they put up and did not whine.  I don’t know if I could have been so stoic.
     So, going back to the First World War we have two songs written during that time and sung during both times.  I remember singing the first one as a little girl.  I didn’t know it had anything to do with a war.  I just thought it was fun: 
K-K-K-Katy, beautiful Katy,
You’re the only g-g-g-girl that I adore;
When the m-m-m-moon shines,
Over the c-c-c-cowshed,
I’ll be waiting at the k-k-k-kitchen door.
K-K-K-Katy, beautiful Katy,
You’re the only g-g-g-girl that I adore;
When the m-m-m-moon shines,
Over the c-c-c-cowshed,
I’ll be waiting at the k-k-k-kitchen door.
 
HERE’S A VIDEO OF A ONE MAN 
BARBERSHOP QUARTET SINGING IT 
 
 
My mother has always been a singer, my grandfather was a musician in the army and continued, as a hobby, with a band as a trumpeter.  I think her whole family was very musical (I have spoken of my breathtaking ability on the Kazoo, too…) and she sang this song a lot.  It was written in World War I, but  they sang it in the forties, too, when the boys were all over the world.
 
 
THIS VIDEO  was uploaded for Remembrance Day, and it speaks across the ages. Since the link doesn’t seem to want to translate to the text, I am posting it here: 
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=06CUZn4Fc2U
Enjoy the music video, and remember those who went off to war.  I only wish they had had songs like these for the soldiers who were sent into the hell of Vietnam and came back home to be called murderers.
 

J = Jamaican Farewell


It is Thursday.  I just finished computing my taxes and I really need a dose of Calypso as only Harry Belafonte can give.

I have always liked Mr. Belafonte.  A wonderful voice, a great way of dealing with rhythm, a sense of humor…  I grew up with an album of his at home, and my parents loved the Calypso Christmas carol.

This song came to me later in a collection of love songs.  I’m not sure how I missed it, but I have it now.  Enjoy it, forget about taxes, dance to the languid beat…

 Down the way
Where the nights are gay
And the sun shines daily on the mountaintop
I took a trip on a sailing ship
And when I reached Jamaica I made a stop

(chorus)
But I’m sad to say I’m on my way
Won’t be back for many a day
My heart is down
My head is turning around
I had to leave a little girl in Kingston town

Sounds of laughter everywhere
And the dancing girls swing to and fro
I must declare my heart is there
Though I’ve been from Maine to Mexico

Down at the market you can hear
Ladies cry out while on their heads they bear
Ackee*, rice, saltfish are nice
And the rum is fine any time o’ yea


*ackee is the Jamaican national dish

 
©Cherry Lane Music Co (ASCAP)


…And you can watch Mr. Belafonte HERE

I is for… I Know You’re Out There Somewhere…


I is for…

 
 

I have always loved the Moody Blues.  I encountered them my freshman year in college when I bought one of their albums.  It turned out not to be one of their better ones, though it had some good songs.  The ones I liked best were generally written by Justin Hayward.  Today’s selection was written by him as a sequel to Once Upon a Time in Your Wildest Dreams.

That song tells the story of a man remembering his first love and wondering if she rememebers him.  Today’s song is a linear continuation of the song, where he decides to try to find her…
 

I’m going to cheat a little.  Today’s selection is the sequel to one of their top hits.  Rather than present them out of order, (and to avoid running on at the mouth – or do I mean fingertips’? – I have embedded the videos.  Enjoy them. (but do watch them in order…)

This one first:

Once Upon a Time in Your Wildest Dreams

Then watch:

I Know You’re Out There Somewhere

H is for How Sweet It Is To Be Loved By You


I was scheduled to be on one of those coast-to-coast conference calls once. You know: something urgent to discuss, a whole lot of edgy, self-important  sorts from corporate America.  We got our dial-in number and our code to punch in.  The conference was set to begin at 2:30 pm precisely. 

I had dealt with most of these people before.  They were sharp, smart, tough.  So was I, at that time.


I dialed the number. 

WELCOME TO YOUR AT&T CONFERENCING CENTER.  YOUR CONFERENCE IS SET TO BEGIN IN ONE MINUTE…

 

I muttered something sat back, the earpiece of the phone pinched between my shoulder and my ear, my hands busy on my keyboard.  Music came on…  James Taylor… 

Ah, James… I thought, and sat back.  The first song was, I think, Mexico.  There were several more, then the Muzak switched to Sade Adu’s work, then back to James Taylor.  I closed my eyes, listening and suddenly noticed that twenty minutes had passed.  What was going on?  I didn’t care. 

James Taylor is one of those artists who just keeps getting better.  And he is an artist.  A friend of mine, learning guitar, decided to play Mr. Taylor’s  Fire and Rain.  It’s a simple-sounding song, right?  She picked it after playing Year of the Cat, which she thought hard.  The chords in Fire and Rain were tricky, difficult, nearly impossible.  And he made it sound so smooth. 

Tayloralways came across as a class act (to me).  His backup group looks as though it has been with him since the sixties, he looks his age, and his voice somehow conveys (again, to me) a sort of humorous two-steps-back-and-smile-at-life attitude. 

How sweet it is… 

And he does a good remake of an older song. 


So, for the H entry, click the link below and enjoy the words and some pretty pictures: 

How Sweet It Is to Be Loved By You 

Oh – the conference call that was on hold for twenty minutes?  After twenty minutes of James Taylor with a touch of Sade Adu, we were too mellow to argue about anything.