Without A Song

Without a song, the day would never end

My first Perry Como post!  I became aware of this song when it was singled out by Bob Dylan in The Philosophy of Modern Song, one of my favorite books of the past few years.

The most unhip guy I remember on TV from my childhood (other than Lawrence Welk).  This is how Dylan got me to listen:

Perry Como was the anti-Rat Pack, like the anti-Frank; wouldn't be caught dead with a drink in his hand, and could out-sing anybody.  His performance is just downright incredible.  There is nothing small you can say about it.

Perry is also the anti-American Idol.  He is anti-flavor of the week, anti-hot list and anti-bling.  He was a Cadillac before the tail fins; a Colt .45, not a Glock; steak and potatoes, not California cuisine.  Perry Como stands and delivers.  No artifice, no forcing one syllable to spread itself thin across many notes.

Perry Como lived in every moment of every song he sang. . .  When he stood and sang, he owned the song and he shared it and we believed every single word.  What more could you want from an artist?

The song was recorded by Perry a month before I was born in 1951, and composed in 1929 with music by Vincent Youmans and lyrics from Billy Rose and Edward Eliscu.  Now I love listening to it.