The Explanation
(for those who require one)

And, of course, that is what all of this is -- all of this: the one song, ever changing, ever reincarnated, that speaks somehow from and to and for that which is ineffable within us and without us, that is both prayer and deliverance, folly and wisdom, that inspires us to dance or smile or simply to go on, senselessly, incomprehensibly, beatifically, in the face of mortality and the truth that our lives are more ill-writ, ill-rhymed and fleeting than any song, except perhaps those songs -- that song, endlesly reincarnated -- born of that truth, be it the moon and June of that truth, or the wordless blue moan, or the rotgut or the elegant poetry of it. That nameless black-hulled ship of Ulysses, that long black train, that Terraplane, that mystery train, that Rocket '88', that Buick 6 -- same journey, same miracle, same end and endlessness."
-- Nick Tosches, Where Dead Voices Gather

The Art of Pop #6

No One Cares
(Frank Sinatra)
(Capitol Records; 1959)


Vanwall said...

Like this would ever happen to Ole' Blue eyes. ;-)

Steve said...

Aw! Don'cha just wanna give him a hug? Poor sad-panda Frank!

SomeNYGuy said...

Even this rabid Sinatra fan has trouble with his Gordon Jenkins recordings; less melancholy than lachrymose.

hcbeck said...

Billy May or Nelson Riddle. Jenkins suffocated a lit of NK Cole as well

rookgaroo said...

This album cover makes me think of Tom Waits for some reason.