Skeeter Davis “Skeeter Sings Standards”

What if I had I heard this record having never heard—or heard of—Skeeter Davis? That is the challenge. I enjoy these kinds of mental experiments—but honestly, I can’t really imagine hearing her sing for the first time. That’s what I’m thinking during the heart-melting first song, “When I Fall in Love.” I guess the question would be, would I have fallen in love with her at that moment? First listening, first song? I think so. It’s just the quality of her voice. I guess there’s a lot more to it—the songs, arrangements, just generally her style—but the solid foundation of everything here is Skeeter Davis’ voice, which is just there—nostalgic, romantic, reassuring, solid, and even kind of weird (in a way I can’t really articulate). Which often leads me to think—why is it that I don’t always listen to one of her records—at least once a day? Because life is finite.

Anyway, it’s an excellent record with beautiful arrangements, including some odd touches I haven’t noticed on her other records (that I’ve heard—still haven’t heard them all!) such as some plaintive, orchestral horns, and subtle vibes. Standards, of course, all popular songs, though some I’m unfamiliar with—but either way, they’re all made new—which is exactly what you should do when performing a standard. Of the songs I’m well familiar with, there are some unusual approaches, like with: “All of Me,” “Fly Me to the Moon,” “Secret Love,” I Wanna Be Loved by You,” “Smile,” and “Cry Me a River.” They all sound fresh here—even though I’ve heard those songs a million times.

The album cover really looks all of 1965, I guess, with the title and song list in a white band across the top, along with the RCA Victor logo. The photo of Skeeter Davis is oddly dark, but maybe it’s just the printing—who knows. It looks great dark, in a way—it’s supposed to be in her “music room,” I’m guessing—and maybe it really is. She’s wearing a crazy orange dress with a fur hem and gold and rhinestones around the neck. She’s sitting on a big old sofa, looking through sheet music, selecting songs to sing, I guess. Behind her looks like a records shelf, and there’s a speaker there that looks like one of the Advent speakers I had in the Seventies (though they didn’t exist until 1967). The liner notes are always good—these by Ken Grant of KNUZ, Houston—are particularly fine. Besides some of the more glowing words about Skeeter Davis I’ve read, he also mentions producer Chet Atkins, and arrangers Anita Kerr and Harold Ragsdale. Best of all, he describes Skeeter’s live performances, in which her open, honest personality shines through—due to her charm, ad-libbing, and love for the audience. It makes me sad that I never had the chance to see her.

It’s hard to choose, but I think my favorite song on the record is “You Tell Me Your Dream,” which is a great title, and a fascinating song, and has one of those spoken intros (and short, spoken part in the middle) that I really love. I was not familiar with this one, but I guess it goes way back—to the Twenties and Thirties. A lot of people recorded it, of course, but not quite like this one. Well, every song on this record is great—and they are quite different from each other. They get better after repeat listenings, too. It was one of my promises to myself (aka resolutions) for the new year—to write shorter reviews—to try for one paragraph—but there was just a lot I wanted to say about this one. I could go on, too… because the last time I listened to this, I had to think that maybe it’s my favorite of all the Skeeter Davis records I’ve ever heard. Which would pretty much make it my favorite record, period—so… good way to start out the year! I didn’t see that coming!

Skeeter Davis “Singin’ in the Summer Sun”

I’m glad that my magic eightball planchette thingy landed its arrow on this 1966 record for review in the summer—it would have felt weird in the dead of winter—for obvious reasons. The album cover is a nice painting of a blond woman at the beach—obviously supposed to be Skeeter Davis, though it doesn’t look like any picture I’ve seen of her—but that’s okay, I guess. She’s in the foreground and, oddly, in the background the sky is mauve! And there is just the slightest glimpse of water, as if we’re looking over a big dune. The funniest thing is there’s a group of four young people, and one is a guy sitting in a chair with an acoustic guitar and a shirt with red and white vertical stripes like he’s one of the Beach Boys. Maybe he is. The usual 12 songs, and seven contain the word summer, two have the word sand, one boardwalk, one lifeguard, and one sunglasses. You’ve heard a lot of these, of course, by other artists, but Skeeter Davis has a way of improving on even the most over-recorded tunes. (I honestly think she could have done an entire Lennon-McCartney record and it would have been good.)

May favorites here are… all of them—but there’s a few worth mentioning again. “Dixie Cup of Sand” (John D. Loudermilk)—first time I’ve heard that song—is kind of weird and good. The most jaunty (and that’s sayin’ something) version I’ve yet heard of the massively over-covered “Under the Boardwalk” (The Drifters)—with a kitchen sink of extras—on paper that sounds like a disaster, but it actually makes me like that song again. “That Warm Sumner Night”—with cricket effects—great song. “(Theme from) A Summer Place” has one of her excellent, signature talking parts in it. Her version of Gershwin’s “Summertime”—the world’s most covered song—is one of the stranger takes I’ve heard (I even like it better than Lana Del Rey’s and Iggy Pop’s versions)—it makes the song new—and it’s even a little creepy. A version of The Shangri-Las’ “Remember (Walkin’ n the Sand),” is also weirdly atmospheric, a little odd—including weirdly off seagull effects. Her rendition of Chad & Jeremy’s “A Summer Song” is one of the more sadder and bubblegummier sad bubblegum songs I can recall. “Sunglasses” (Loudermilk again) I know from another of her records, and I always liked it—good lyrically. “That Summer Sunset” (Sandra Rhodes) is a song I don’t know at all—and it’s just about my favorite one here.

The other funny thing with this record is the extensive liner notes by Gerry Wood (Vanderbilt University) about what they went through to get this record on vinyl—I won’t go into it all—you’ll have to buy the record and spend a warm evening with your reading glasses and the back cover. But it has to do with Skeeter being hospitalized for exhaustion (a reminder that I really have to get around to reading her autobiography!) then, producer Chet Atkins selecting songs with Skeeter—but vamoosing to the Caribbean without telling anyone what songs (and Skeeter’s too out of it to remember). Meanwhile, new producer Felton Jarvis forges ahead with his own selection of songs—and the session going ahead with Ronnie Light singing—and then the engineers removing his voice—and Skeeter recovering… Okay, I just said I wasn’t going to recite it…  and there I go… Well, the record speaks for itself.  I’ll stop now. But first, I’ve got to add my favorite detail, when Skeeter woke from “medicated” sleep and said, “Bring me a cheeseburger and some pink thread.” Which strikes me as one of the more Skeeter Davis Skeeter Davis stories I’ve heard.

Skeeter Davis “Skeeter Sings Dolly”

Just as the title implies, this is an album by Skeeter Davis, and she is singing Dolly Parton songs. Ten songs, all written by Dolly Parton (a few with co-writers), originally recorded by her, of course. It would be interesting to listen to them back-to-back, the Dolly version, then the Skeeter version. Next rainy day. The cover is an exceptional photograph (as goes for most Skeeter Davis records). Skeeter is out in the woods somewhere, or maybe a very nice back yard, looking contemplative, and she’s wearing an incredible looking long dress—all I can say about it is, that’s some dress. Should I try to describe it? No—I don’t think I could pull it off. The liner notes are exceptional—there is a full column written by Dolly Parton about Skeeter Davis, and this record, “…she has paid me the greatest compliment anyone could ever pay a songwriter.” And how much she likes Skeeter Davis personally: “I think I’ll call her sunshine.” She even lets on what her favorites on the record are: “Just the Way I Am,” “Daddy Was an Old Time Preacher Man,” and “Down from Dover.” Then there’s a whole column by Skeeter about Dolly, and how much she loves her songs—“I think she is destined to become a writer whose songs will be sung forever.” Remember, Skeeter was about 15 years older than Dolly, and this record is from 1972, when Dolly Parton was only in her mid-twenties—though, of course, already a big star with over a dozen records out. Skeeter also mentions some of her favorites on the record: “In the Good Old Days (When Times Were Bad),” “Just the Way I Am,” and “Down from Dover” (which she says is her favorite on the album). Since they’re doing it, I may as well weigh in on my favorite songs on the record, as well: “Put It Off Until Tomorrow,” “Fuel to the Flame,” and “Down from Dover.” (I made those picks right while listening, before I read the notes, so as not to be influenced by the ladies.) I guess we all agree on “Down from Dover”—and it is a pretty great song. No reason to pick favorites, though, all ten are good. Though I do have a particular fondness for “Fuel to the Flame.” Dolly and I share a birthday. Skeeter is my all-time favorite singer. Dolly’s from Tennessee, Skeeter’s from Kentucky, and I’m from Ohio. I tried to single-handedly rid both their states of their whiskey. Failed.

Skeeter Davis “What Does It Take (To Keep a Man Like You Satisfied)”

I have enough records by my favorite all-time singer to occasionally take her for granted and not even think twice about a particular album—like this one—as just another Skeeter Davis record I haven’t written about. At first glance the album cover looks like a product from back in the days before the arty rock record covers changed the way we looked at album covers. The RCA Victor Dynagroove logo is nearly as prominent as the that long, long title, and the songs are all listed directly below our recording artist’s name, in a much smaller font, of course. No less than four of the twelve song titles include parenthetical phrases—including the one that gives the album its title—you’d almost think it was a Will Travis tape. And seeing how the longest song here is 2:40, I would hazard that this album might hold the world record for song title wordiness vs. total recording time. I’ll elaborate more on the songs, below.

But first, the cover. There are so many great Skeeter Davis album covers, her biggest competition in that area is against herself, thus I kind of overlooked this one before now. It’s a full cover photograph, uncredited, but so beautiful, I hope someone out there has the original photo (and reads this and sends it to me). The right side of the photo is in deep shadows, from which Skeeter Davis is emerging as she looks out a window on the left—large glass panes, framed in old, white-painted wood. We see nothing out the sliver of window—just the stark light of daytime—but what is she seeing? One can only presume it’s her man with another woman. She’s wearing a dark blue dress with bold, white polka dots, which contrasts nicely with the burgundy curtain and red-brown sash and tassels holding the curtain open—I don’t even know what to call it, but it’s incredible—the kind of things you’d see in your grandparents’ or great aunt’s house. And then a somewhat rare portrait of Skeeter in profile, which is an entirely different dimension of her multifaceted album cover image collection. Her hair is pinned up in the back—some hairdo I don’t know the name of, I suppose, with curls the size of drain culverts—I guess that’s what they use those pink, plastic curlers and Aqua Net for. Oh, and her expression—it’s sad, indeed.

As is usual with her records, six songs per side, and all of them shorter than three minutes. I wish everyone did that. The kind of nutso “Set Him Free” (with spoken parts, including a “judge” in court) is one I’ve heard before. The melancholy and beautiful “Fuel to the Flame,” written by Dolly Parton and Bill Owens, is another one I’ve heard her sing before, somewhere, and it’s one I like a lot. “Something Comes Over Me,” by Sandra Rhodes, is another slow, pretty one. One of the loveliest songs on the record is written by Skeeter Davis— “You Taught Me Everything That I Know.” This is one of Skeeter Davis’ more pop-oriented records, even though there’s still a country feel to it. The producer, Felton Jarvis (great name) provides some liner notes on back in which he refers to Skeeter as “versatile” in the first paragraph, and the song selection as “diversified” in the second. He also credits the arranger (Bill Walker) as “greatest,” and the Nashville Sound musicians as “best”—and they are.

I don’t know if this means anything, but the word “world” is in no less than three of the song titles, including, “It’s a Crazy World” (Bill Dees). Then there’s “Sad Sad World” which is one of my favorites—it’s a rock’n’roll number I feel like I’ve heard somewhere else—I can’t find it—anyway, it’s another one written by Sandra Rhodes. My favorite song on the record is “I’m Looking (For a World)”—which is by John D. Loudermilk. What’s interesting is that his version comes off as quirky, homegrown, a little corny, but Skeeter’s rendition really highlights the strangeness of the song—it’s one that David Lynch missed. Or maybe he didn’t… maybe I missed it in Lynch-ville. You get a bit of the picture from some of the lyrics: “Shiny plastic flowers (shiny plastic flowers), electronic steeple chimes (electronic steeple chimes), seem to be becoming… the symbols of our times.” It’s a fairly standard, slow pop song, but the production is unusual, with effective use of background vocals, and an oddball spoken part, which no one does as well as Skeeter: “I’m looking for—a simple sandy suntan world—not a handy sunlamp world—but one that is true.” But like I said, it’s better if you hear it—which you can, on the YouTube. So few “views”—and so few of you here. I guess we could all be having an intimate little Skeeter Davis party.

Skeeter Davis & Bobby Bare “Tunes for Two”

There are a few Skeeter Davis duet records—the ones I’ve heard are right up there with her solo records—and this one is, too. Bobby Bare is a big name in country music—but I know nothing about him—so I’ll look him up. The big computer says Bobby Bare is his real name, he’s 86, has a birthday coming up, and is from Ironton, Ohio, which is on the river. I’m from Ohio, and I consider everything south of Lake Erie “The South” and anything along the Ohio River “The Deep South.” This record, from 1965, is one of his early ones—and he did a second duet record with Skeeter Davis in 1970 called “Your Husband My Wife”—which is a great title, and a bit of a brain twister. I like that title so much, I looked up his discography, and he’s kind of king of great album titles. I’ll list some here: This is Bare Country, I Need Some Good News Bad, What Am I Gonna Do?, Singin’ in the Kitchen (which I think I have!), The Winner and Other Losers, Drunk & Crazy, As Is, Drinkin’ from the Bottle, Darker Than Light, and my favorite: (Margie’s At) The Lincoln Park Inn (And Other Controversial Country Songs).

This cover is really cute—Skeeter and Bobby leaning on each other—they almost look like brother and sister—they have the same blue eyes. They’re both kind of wedged against some mysterious something—it’s either part of a car or a jukebox—I’m going with the latter—but it’s an odd pose. Bobby Bare reminds me of someone I know. Skeeter Davis—who looks different in every photo you see her in—in this particular look, also reminds me of someone I know. On back, they each write some liner notes—about each other. It’s ever cuter than the cover, if that’s possible.

This is a great record—it’s produced by Chet Atkins. All twelve songs are very good. Here are some of the highlights. “A Dear John Letter” has Skeeter singing, and then Bobby Bare doing the spoken part—about getting such a letter while overseas—it’s quite effective. “Too Used to Being with You” is one of the crazier song titles on the album, and it’s also a good song. “In the Misty Moonlight,” written by Cindy Walker, is one of my favorites on this record. “We’ll Sing in the Sunshine,” another good one—a Gale Garnett song—a little bit bubblegum, a bit bouncy—and nice the way they mix vocal parts. “I Love You,” by Billy Barton, is another one with Bobby doing a spoken part—it’s pretty great. I can imagine a lot of people—maybe who are not fans of country music, or maybe just younger—might think this kind thing is hopelessly corny. It is a bit corny, but it’s too bad if you can’t appreciate it. “Out of Our Minds” is my favorite on the record—it’s a song by Melba Montgomery—I’ve heard it somewhere else—I think on that great John Prine album of duets—I don’t remember who sings it with him (I can look it up—Melba Montgomery, duh). Actually, my very favorite here, is their version of “Let It Be Me”—just because that’s one of my favorite songs, period—I suppose you can do a bad version of that song, but you’d have to work at it—this is a very good one—with them each doing a spoken part—it’s kind of the epic number of the record. I, of course, remember “Together Again” from my childhood—I suppose the Buck Owens version. It ends with “Invisible Tears,” which is catchy and upbeat crossed with some really weird and bleak lyrics. That’s country music!

Skeeter Davis “I Can’t Believe That It’s All Over”

Ask me how many Skeeter Davis records I have—I can’t tell you—I really have no idea. I know I don’t have them all. And I still haven’t heard one I don’t love. This one is no exception—another great record from Skeeter Davis. It feels almost contemporary, with that really flimsy RCA vinyl and futuristic logo. Yet it’s from 1973, which is getting on near half a century—hard to believe. It looks like (depending on the accuracy of online discography) this record was near the end of her reign of putting out two albums a year—stretching back before 1960. The picture of her on the cover looks different than any other picture I’ve seen of her—yet still unmistakably her, and quite lovely. The liner notes on the back are by Skeeter, written by hand—it’s so convincing looking that I had to look really close—She wouldn’t have written personal notes on each record, would she? Of course not. But it definitely gets the idea across that this is an intimate message—and long, too—two pages! She talks about her first ever performance, in Cincinnati when she was in first grade, and how she knew from that point how important the applause was to her. And then, how she was thinking of quitting singing, but here’s another record. Just reading this personal note about quitting kind of made me feel funny in my stomach—and I know she hasn’t been with us for years and years now—but then… I guess she is. Every time I put on one of her records, it’s like she’s right here in the room. And that’s not the case with everyone, with every singer, to be sure (and not even with every song, by her). It’s partly the songs, and partly the recording, and a lot her voice and whatever it is about her spirit that appeals to me so much. Ten fine songs on this record—but particularly appealing to me are: the title song, a classic country song by Ben Peters (one of those where she talks… I love that). And there’s a really nice version of the Jackson 5 hit, “I’ll Be There.” Also, “Stay Awhile with Me,” is by Skeeter and Linda Palmer, very fine. My favorite on the record is: “It Really Doesn’t Matter at All,” a melancholy and beautiful song by Helen Cornelius. It really is a good one, you’ll have to hear it.

The Best of Sandy Posey & Skeeter Davis

You can probably listen to this record several times in the time it takes you to read the extensive biographical notes on the back cover, which include a short bio of each woman (in which we find out they were born Martha Sharp and Mary Frances Penick) and a couple of glowing testimonials about each singer. Each one gets a side, only four songs each, and these are short songs (from back when no one needed more than three minutes to get the point across), the longest being 2:37. I suppose this was a budget record, and whatever it cost new, it was less than a normal LP. Plus, you get two artists for the price of one, or less! It’s on Gusto Records, and after all, “Gusto” means: light on your bankroll. The only drawback is you have to turn the record over every ten minutes—if you’re listening to it “on repeat,” that is, like the kids do today. The other possible drawback is if you alphabetize your records, by artist, where do you put it? For me, that’s easy, since I’m a bigger fan of Skeeter Davis—so it goes with the Davis. But I’m a fan of Sandy Posey, too, and the songs here are all good, including her hit, “Single Girl.” The Skeeter Davis side includes the country classic, “My Last Date With You.” Great songs—the rest of them too—nothing to complain about—eight fine songs, no filler. And almost like a bonus, the final song on the record is Skeeter singing “I Can’t Stay Mad At You,” an incredibly catchy pop number by Carole King and Gerry Goffin. This record (also available on 8-Track and cassette) came out in 1978, the year I graduated from high school (I would not have appreciated it then) and even though vinyl records are more popular than ever, I can’t imagine being able to buy something this good in 2021 with your lunch money. I’m not saying things were better back then… but different? Yes.

Skeeter Davis “The Best of Skeeter Davis” (1978)

I’m not sure how many “Best of Skeeter Davis” records there are out there—I’m not even going to try to figure it out—some are re-releases of previous ones. If you see one in your price range, buy it—you can’t go wrong—it’s Skeeter Davis. This one from 1978 is on the cheapie Pickwick label, has a 98 cent cover—no picture of SD anywhere on the record! There are only nine songs on the record, which means the total playing time is around a half hour. The songs don’t have anything to do with each other, and the sound quality isn’t even consistent. For all those drawbacks, this is still a great record—in part because Skeeter Davis didn’t do anything but make great music. As far as I’m concerned she could have covered breaking glass and it’d be great. Anyway, this record has its share of cornball old-time love songs, like “Love Takes a Lot of My Time,” and one of those with a lot of speaking parts, “Set Him Free.” There’s a cover of “Bridge Over Troubled Water” which is song I’ve always found beautiful, even though I’ve heard it more times than my stomach growling—and even though there’s an out-of-control fiddler threatening to set a shit-fire, Skeeter Davis’ voice extinguishes it and saves us all. There are more pop songs, too, a King/Goffin, and John D. Loudermilk’s “Sunglasses,” which is dumb, but no more dumb than the beach, which is where I wish I was right now.

Skeeter Davis “The Best of Skeeter Davis”

There is a “Best of Skeeter Davis” record from 1983, and 1980, and 1973, and 1978, and 1965. There may be more, but I got tired of looking in the internet. For the most part, they are the same songs—I mean, the first one kept getting reissued—though I noticed some variations. Anyway, this one that I’m listening to right now is a fine vinyl copy from 1965, RCA Victor, mono, 12 songs, it sounds great. On the front cover there’s nice picture of Skeeter, kind of Olan Mills style, that’s in a squarish rectangle with rounded corners that resembles the screen of 1960s television. It says “The Best of Skeeter Davis” and lists the songs. The letters in her name is each a different color. People could get color TV in the early 60s, but 1965 is considered the year the damn burst. It was often advertised by making each letter a different color, such as with the “Color TV” signs at motels. There are brief, very introductory, uncredited liner notes on back, referring to her as a “vivacious blonde Kentuckian.” She was both young and old at this time (around 34) and was, of course, already a star, with half a dozen LPs, lots of singles, and some hit songs. A “best of” record already made sense.

Every song on this record is good, and I could write an article about each one, but I’m not going to even mention them, I mean, individually, at this point, since they’re all on other records that I’ve written about, or am going to write about. No… maybe should… I’m listening to this again. It’s such a great record… every song is good. It’s like the classic county record of all time. Twelve songs by 12 different people or songwriting teams (including one by Skeeter Davis and Carolyn Penick), but somehow, it’s like every song is a Skeeter Davis song, once she’s singing it. She’s like Sinatra in that way. I wonder if those two ever met. This record would be a great birthday or Christmas present for someone—someone who maybe isn’t already a big Skeeter Davis fan, and you want to introduce her to. If I ever see other copies of this for a reasonable price (or the reissued versions), I’m going to buy them and then give them away as presents. Instead of the guy who gives you books you don’t want to read, I’ll be the guy who gives Skeeter Davis records to people who don’t like country music and don’t have record players!

Skeeter Davis “My Heart’s in the Country”

This record has the best cover of all the Skeeter Davis records I own (which is a lot, but not nearly enough of them). It’s a full cover color photograph of Skeeter sitting in a barnyard wearing a red and white gingham dress, holding a baby pig. As cute as she is, the pig’s even cuter. The photo is weirdly cropped, as in it doesn’t look cropped—I’m guessing they took a few, but there weren’t a lot to chose from that had sufficient focus when blown up that large, because, I’m no expert, but I believe those little pigs are kind of squirmy. It’s a great cover. There’s also substantial liner notes on the back, by Skeeter Davis, which I’ll read in a bit. I was going to say this isn’t my favorite of her records, which it isn’t, but now that I’m listing to it a few times, while writing this, it’s growing on me. Skeeter Davis records will do that. The title song (by Larry Kingston and Felton Jarvis) is about a singer who has big city success, but nevertheless, she sings, “My heart’s in the country, on a farm in O-hi-o.” Which, of course, strikes a chord with me, as an Ohioan. She is from Kentucky, so this song is a character, but also her, and southern Ohio and Kentucky do have a border, but it’s not necessarily the one drawn up by The Man. Now that I think about it, maybe it’s the Ohioan in her (as well as the Kentuckian in me) that draws me to her so intensely. This song also has one of those spoken parts, which I’m sure some people find corny, but I love that, especially when Skeeter Davis does it.

One thing that’s interesting about Skeeter Davis is that she had success with both pop and country audiences, which is something she talks about in the liner notes, maintaining that her roots are in the country (and this country music). I’m personally not partial to either the pop music or the country music she’s recorded—I must say, I like both equally—and sometimes you can’t really hear a line between them (but sometimes you can). As I’ve said before, above all, I’m song oriented, so it matters little, the genre or style—I’ll like a song, or not so much. The biggest generalization I make when I’m categorizing music I like or don’t like is the degree of jauntiness—and I’m sure people are tired of me using that word, but it best expresses the thing that often turns me off. (Of course, I’m sure there’s a jaunty song out there that I do like, but I can’t think of one right now.) Naturally, both country and pop songs can be jaunty. On this record, which is all hardcore country songs, we have the jaunty and the not jaunty. The not jaunty ones tend to be sad and melancholy—those are my favorites. A few of my favorites here are “Put It Off Until Tomorrow” (by Dolly Parton and Bill Owens), “I’m Living in Two Worlds” (J. Crutchfield) (not about the two worlds of pop and country—it’s a relationship song—and a sad one). And “Before I’m Over You” by Betty Sue Perry, another in the tradition of losing one’s mind (going crazy, insane, etc.) over a love gone wrong. Of course, there are songs that are kind of in between sad and jaunty, the clever country songs—one here I like a lot is “Guess My Eyes Were Bigger Than My Heart,” by Liz Anderson (I always liked that expression, about eating, and there’s nothing I like better than the tradition of inserting “heart” in every expression imaginable).

These liner notes are Skeeter answering the question, “What’s the country like?” She goes on and on with nostalgic descriptions of the things she remembers and loves about country life—sure, it’s sugary and sweet, but really kind of touching, too—at least to me. My favorite part of it is where she’s talking about mothers and fathers, now gone, their particular smells, and she says, “And they were smells you’d like to smell again, but can’t.” I guess that reminds me of what I like about Skeeter Davis—there is this simplicity, clarity, a kind of innocence, but never without an underlying melancholy and world weariness. It also reminds me that I have this autobiography she wrote, called Bus Fare to Kentucky, which I still haven’t read—I’ve got to read it sometime.