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 #24

The Touch of Your Lips
(Nat King Cole)
(Capitol Records; 1961)


SomeNYGuy said...

I see white people!

Oh, well. If that's what it took to sell these exquisite recordings at that tense moment in America's social history, at least we still have the music to savor.

Greg said...

Tom et al,

I recently discovered a group dedicated to sharing vintage photos and came across these Marilyn Monroe shots that I thought you might enjoy: