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Monday, April 7

My Mother's Records


As I've noted before, I grew up in a Sinatra-loving household, both my parents worshipped the ground he walked on and to this day I can't see a Capitol Records label or one of those Reprise Records labels with Sinatra's photo on it without picturing it on the turntable of our old mono Bush record player.

My mother's favourite Frank Sinatra record has always been the slinky "Witchcraft" while I'm of the rather cliched and uninteresting opinion that "I've Got You Under My Skin" is his the best thing he ever did. But just because it's the conventional view doesn't mean it's wrong, I think it's one of the greatest recordings of 20th century popular music.

So you'd think I wouldn't be inclined to like The Four Seasons smooth, easy listening version of the song from 1966 but it's a record that my mother played to death when I was a kid which gives me a certain rose-tinted view of it and how do you separate pop records from your memories of them? Impossible I think (there's a post idea right there). It lacks the passion and hunger of Sinatra's version and takes a rather more dreamy approach but I still think it's very pretty with a sweet arrangement full of strings and bells, and I love the big drum break after the pause at the end.

Download: I've Got You Under My Skin - The Four Seasons (mp3)

5 Comments:

At 2:57 PM, Blogger stevedomino said...

i ABSOLUTELY agree with all of the above - a cliche is just a good idea repeated ad infinitum - and that's my favourite Sinatra performance of all.

and that Four Seasons version is just peachy-keen! thanks as always.

 
At 3:07 PM, Blogger ally. said...

that bloody al pacino he gets everywhere...
i prefer franks more wretched stuff although the mrs swears by this one and does a damn fine bit of driving and singing along the little multitasker
x

 
At 5:37 PM, Blogger SM said...

Thanks for the post...I love it.

My personal quintessential Sinatra track would have to be Don't Worry 'Bout Me.

 
At 9:03 AM, Blogger Ian said...

But isn't that the point, that you can't separate pop songs from your memories of them? That one can make intelligent, analytical observations about a song, and make good faith efforts at putting them into a larger context, but that ultimately the value of a song is in its reception? The category of guilty pleasures (like your Yes post of last week) is predicated on not being able to logically reconcile a song's aesthetic criteria (or lack thereof) and its affective consequences: but why is the reconciliation of what we know and what we feel the project? This is especially a pyrrhic objective when the aesthetic criteria are imposed upon us by a critical apparatus which needs to perpetually reinvent itself, whereas our autobiographies, however much we reinvent or reimagine them, are rooted in historical events. If this blog has proven anything, it is that popular music lives because it becomes personal: individuated receptions of songs that are inherently interconnected with people's lives.

 
At 7:25 AM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

The same happens to me, except that it was my father who played this endlessly...
Thanks for this!

 

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