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

When Legends Gather #603


Frank Sinatra, Mort Sahl, George Jessel and Dean Martin

6 comments :

Robert Fiore said...

Something Kennedy-related, I imagine.

Harry said...

Check out Dean Martin. He was less an entertainer than an icon, the eternal essence of cool. A member of the legendary Rat Pack, he lived and died the high life of booze, broads and bright lights, always projecting a sense of utter detachment and serenity; along with Frank Sinatra and the other chosen few who breathed the same rarefied air, Martin — highball and cigarette always firmly in hand — embodied the glorious excess of a world long gone, a world without rules or consequences. Throughout it all, he remained just outside the radar of understanding, the most distant star in the firmament; as his biographer Nick Tosches once noted, Martin was what the Italians called a menefreghista — "one who simply does not give a fuck."

MadHatter said...

True, though sadly, the death of his son Dean Paul pierced through the veneer of perché dovrei preoccuparmene he showed the world and alas, he never recovered from that tragic loss.

mister muleboy said...

he lived and died the high life of booze, broads and bright lights and the veneer of perché dovrei preoccuparmene he showed the world

By all accounts from the late '50s on this was an act. Certainly the "high life" and "bright lights" -- his daughter readily distinguishes the old man from the image. She recounts his reclusive response to the near-mandatory parties that were thrown at the Martin digs: he would retire to an empty room, juice glass and water glass to hand, waiting for the people to leave. Since his daughter was unflinching in other more critical areas, I tend to believe her.

He was also reported to leave the early-morning gatherings earlier than the other rat-packers


I think I actually prefer the idea of it all being a big act, building on a young man's joie de vivre to create a nationally-known persona.

And this comes from a man who bought every one of those goddamned roast on VHS tapes -- that are retained to this day . . . .

MadHatter said...

The Roast Shows and the Variety Shows are amongst the most entertaining of ALL forms of media I've ever seen on television.....Hell, even the infomercials on the shows are more entertaining than most of the tripe being shown today on T.V.

swac said...

In the Rat Pack movie that was on HBO there's a shot of a camera panning past a series of Vegas hotel windows, showing the Pack members engaged in all manner of tomfoolery, with the last window showing Dino in bed alone with a glass of milk, watching an old western on TV. He probably sowed enough wild oats in his years with Jerry for 10 lifetimes.