Frank Sinatra “Come Fly with Me”

One of those Sinatra records that make me think that if Sinatra didn’t exist in real life, he would have been a great invention by a writer and/or an artist—or a team of them. A TV show, comic, movie, comic book, etc. The album cover is perfect—a naturalistic color illustration of Frank in as sharp suit, hat, casual tie, giant cufflinks—dressed for international air travel—and he’s taking the hand of woman—we only see her hand, but I’d guess she’s attractive. They’re on the tarmac of an airport—when you used to venture outside, and up the portable steps to the airplane. In the background we see a TWA plane, the “stewardess” exiting, and further back another plane—one of those big prop planes with three tail fins (the back of the cover tells me it’s the TWA Jetstream Super Constellation). No artist credit on back. The sky shows some clouds near the horizon, but most of it is the bluest blue imaginable. Twelve songs, all pop standards that could stretch into a traveling theme. I like all of them, and they fit together well—my favorites are: the title song, “Moonlight in Vermont,” “Autumn in New York,” “Let’s Get Away from it All,” “April in Paris” (with the intro), “Brazil,” “Blue Hawaii,” and “It’s Nice to Go Trav’ling.” (I’m gonna spell it that way from now on!) The art on the back cover uses some (apparently) actual airline charts and documents, over which there’s an artist’s rendition of some pilot paraphernalia, including a logbook, on which it says: “Pilot: Frank Sinatra” and “Co-Pilot: Billy May” (the bandleader). And there’s a compass, the pointy kind for measuring distances on the charts. There’s also a clipboard with a “Flight Log” that’s got some “handwritten” air-travel related notes about six of the tunes. On the bottom it says: “(over)”—but of course, we can’t turn it over—it’s just a drawing! I suppose you’re invited to write your own.

Three Dog Night “An Old Fashioned Love Song” / “Jam”

Here’s a single from 1971 that really does look like they sent it on that first rocket to Mars, left it blow around out there for a while, then brought it on back with some rocks and whatnot. How did it get in this condition, and why do I have it? I had the LP, Harmony, when I was a kid and trashed it beyond playability, but this Martian 45 still plays, though barely. I remembered writing about “An Old Fashioned Love Song” on this website—so I looked it up—a review of a greatest hits record back in 2018 (the review was from 2018… the record from 1974—but why does 2018 now seem as far back as 1974—or even 1758 or so?) Anyway, I knew I’d write the exact same thing—how something lyrically always bugged me about that song (toward the end), but still, it’s one of my favorite songs of theirs (written by Paul Williams) and hearing it, even now, is, for me, pure Hostess Cupcake Jonny Quest Cedar Point Funhouse Fanta Red Cream Soda Nostalgia. The B-side, “Jam” is an up-tempo R&B jam with a lot of “feel all right,” repetition, and Hammond organ. Where would the world be without that Hammond organ? It’d be like Mars, with shallow swimming pools.

Julie London “Julie Is Her Name”

You could say the same thing about Christie, Andrews, the girl I had a crush on in third grade, my aunt and uncle’s poodle, and probably someone you know well—as well as this singer—it almost sounds like an introduction, doesn’t it? I guess she was acting for a decade before this LP, but it was a hit record—it begins with her biggest hit song “Cry Me a River”—you might remember her appearance, and that song, in The Girl Can’t Help It (1956)—a very weird scene. This is a low-key, smooth, mellow, make-out record—her voice is like vanilla yogurt (way better—I’m kind of sad I used that comparison—maybe expensive Scotch and menthols, I don’t know). She’s accompanied only by guitar (Barney Kessel) and bass (Ray Leatherwood)—and these are some fine versions of some of my favorite standards, including “I Should Care,” “I’m in the Mood for Love,” “I’m Glad There is You,” “It Never Entered My Mind,” “Easy Street,” “No Moon at All,” “Laura,” and more—thirteen songs, no bad ones. The striking cover is a chest up photo of her in front of a light-green background with just a tiny glimmer of a lowcut dress evident (they probably first tried to crop it so she could be imagined wearing nothing, but this was 1955). The liner notes are in a font smaller than my early ‘zines (everyone complained about eyestrain)—an enthusiastic bit by Bill Ballance, and then some real excess by screenwriter Richard Breen: “…there is a sweet impermanence about things; the marigold will lose its yellow; spring will not last forever; not all butterflies will stay genial.” Just that bit says a lot, and he’s really pushing it with the butterfly part.

Bobby Rydell “We Got Love” / “I Dig Girls”

A couple of typical rock’n’roll songs from 1959 from teen idol Bobby Rydell—this was a hit record. They pack a lot into each song, backing vocals, honking sax, barroom piano, and a lot of words. It’s crazy to think about someone having to get up (or stop dancing) in order to turn over or change the record after two minutes and fifteen seconds, but that’s how they used to do it. Bobby Rydell only recently passed away, and it sounds like he kept preforming, as his health would permit, for his lifelong fans. I’ve always known his name but wasn’t a big fan—I missed him by a generation or two—though this could have been a single my parents had. I love the Cameo label—it looks hand drawn—it probably was—plus, it reminds me of my favorite pizza joint (The Cameo), growing up. “We Got Love” is one of those songs that lists a lot of numbers (“five o’clock I call you and by six we got a date”)—clever and corny—but eight children? That’s commitment, I guess. “I Dig Girls” similarly lists stuff—a few body types (he digs ’em all) and then goes into geography—chicks from Tennessee, New York, Chicago, Tallahassee… even Sioux City. And then some specific names (including “you”), and then more types—not real particular. He doesn’t care if she’s a “dream lover” or a “nightmare”—that’s commitment.