The Greatest Writer Who Ever Lived - and Other Thoughts
"...Have you heard, it's in the stars/ Next July we collide with Mars...." In my 20’s I thought Dostoevsky the greatest of all writers. Of course, one must always acknowledge the most influential of all, Shakespeare, despite the difficulty his work poses to the modern ear, especially to one as lazy as me.
In my 20’s I thought Dostoevsky the greatest of all writers. Of course, one must always acknowledge the most influential of all, Shakespeare, despite the difficulty his work poses to the modern ear, especially to one as lazy as me. Both men had uncommon insight into the human condition and psyche. Now, in my 50’s, I’m dazzled by a writer I neglected for too long – Cole Porter.
Some will scoff at the inclusion of a songwriter amongst those other giants, but they would be wrong. Not only was he a master of language, he possessed the same insight into the soul as the aforementioned. And he delivered it with such ease and grace that I wonder if that was why I overlooked it for so long. Like Shakespeare, he was equally adept at tragedy and comedy.
Has anyone described the pain of passion as well as Porter did in "So in Love"? "…So taunt me, and hurt me, / Deceive me, desert me. / I’m yours till I die. / So in love am I…." It’s from "Kiss Me Kate," his reworking of "The Taming of the Shrew." PBS recently aired a new production. I eagerly awaited the arrival of the song and was disappointed that it was performed by the male lead in a semi-operatic voice that robbed it of its genuineness. K.D. Lang does a chilling version on an all-star tribute album, "Red Hot and Blue." It so accurately depicts how for some love is nearly madness. Not for me, of course.
Most are familiar with "I’ve Got You under My Skin," one of the greatest songs ever composed: "…Use your mentality,/ Wake up to reality…." Even the Four Seasons covered it. I love Frank Sinatra’s joyous up tempo rendition, but I did not understand the song’s true meaning until I heard Diana Krall’s contemplative, smoldering take. She inspired me to learn to play it. It took me two months to master the sophisticated composition of 18 chords, two of which I fudge, make simpler. I felt as if I finally accomplished something on guitar. It is amazing that two artists could interpret a song so differently and so wonderfully. I wonder which version Porter would have preferred.
If you want to swing or rock, check out "Too Darn Hot," also from "Kiss Me Kate," or "Now You Has Jazz" from the film "High Society," where Bing Crosby joins the Louis Armstrong ("arrivaducci") All Stars. They will have you shaking your booty.
No one wrote with more wit than Porter. There are so many incredible rhymes in "You’re the Top" that listening to it makes me feel I should leave writing to real masters: "Coloseum/Louvre Museum," "Strauss/Mickey Mouse," "Tower of Pisa/Mona Lisa," Mahatma Gandhi/Napoleon Brandy," "Spain/Cellophane," "Turkey dinner/Derby Winner," "Waldorf salad/Berlin Ballad," "Fred Astaire/Camembert." Imagine using "camembert" in song! His vocabulary is stunning. Stacy Kent does a bouncy, infectious version in under three minutes on her album "The Boy Next Door." Shakespeare said "Brevity is the soul of wit." Porter demonstrated this time and again.
"Brush up Your Shakespeare" is also from "Kiss Me Kate." In it, Porter uses a myriad of phrases from the Bard, mostly the titles of his works. It is a tour de force, or farce, astounding in its extensions, going on and on, almost wearing the listener out: "…start quoting him now/…and the women you will wow…." Here he demonstrated wide knowledge of classical literature, as he did of popular culture in "You’re the Top."
Homosexuals proudly note that Porter was gay. Fortunately, he was not a product of this era. He died in 1964. I shudder to think that he might have narrowed his focus, denied us the poignant universality of his work. I’m sick of having the approval of homosexuality shoved down my throat (no pun intended). What consenting adults do in privacy is not my business, but that doesn’t mean I must sanction such behavior or have my tax dollars subsidize it, especially when gays enjoy the highest standard of living of any group. I now avoid films that have a gay subtext. If a television program or news item focuses on the issue, I hit the remote or turn the page. K. D. Lang may have been singing of her feelings for another woman in "So in Love," but I don’t care. The vocal will always evoke the feelings I’ve had for the women in my life. And Porter may have been writing about another man in "You Do Something to Me," but you’d never know it. I was introduced to the song in a Judy Garland special rebroadcast by PBS, interrupted by maddening pledge breaks. Why PBS can’t get the billion dollar Muppets industry to subsidize itself is beyond me. Anyway, Garland was joined by Frank Sinatra and Dean Martin in a medley framed around the piece, directed expertly by Norman Jewison, who would go on to make fine films such as "The Russians Are Coming…" and "A Soldier’s Story". I was enthralled by the couplet: "…Let me live ‘neath your spell/ Do do that voodoo that you do so well…." Walking along the street, I would mouth it to myself, trying to get it right. As sung by those fabulous pros, it had an intoxicating smoothness.
As a writer, I experience a sense of foolishness when I think of how I overlooked the genius of Porter, Ira Gershwin and Johnny Mercer. I now understand why generation after generation of singers continues to record their work and will continue to do so, as Nancy Wilson said recently in a radio interview: "… until something better comes along." Their lyrics are poetic, honed. The freedom to say anything that modern writers enjoy seems to have stunted the growth of artistry. So much of their work comes off as mean-spirited, in your face cynicism.
The best measure of whether a song has reached the status of "standard" is the number of artists who have recorded it, say 50, not counting musak. Every so often a list is published of the greatest songs. Clearly, people are confused by the difference between a great song and a great record. A great record is distinguished by performance or production or both. The entire Elvis catalogue is evidence of this. There are many great rock ‘n roll records, but how many have been recorded by 50 different artists? And 50 is perhaps too low a measure.
The best counter to this argument would be the work of modern songwriters I admire who I doubt will have many of their works covered by 50 different artists. Joni Mitchell and Bob Dylan are brilliant. They accomplish more in one song than I do in an entire novel, but so much of their works are oddities musically, lacking melodious flow, which tends to make the works uniquely their own, despite the universality of their observations. Standards belong to everyone, although there are definitive versions of some. Anyone who records Ira Gershwin’s "The Man That Got Away" will always be compared to Judy Garland, yet any mature woman would love to interpret the many beautiful, profound couplets of this greatest of torch songs: "The night is bitter/ The stars have lost their glitter/ The winds grow colder/ And suddenly you’re older…." In the words of Phil Rizzuto: "Holy cow!"
Joni Mitchell framed the searing "Harry’s House" around Jon’s Hendricks’ classic, "Centerpiece," turning the original’s idealization of love into an ironic look at a marriage suffering the blues. Hendricks’ truth showed how we all would like love to be. Mitchell’s portrayed the bad patches all relationships endure. In her version, Hendricks’ positive "…Nothing’s any good without you…." becomes the harrowing "…Nothing’s any good…." It is not hummable, as standards are. It is an ingenious short story set to music, as is most of Dylan’s canon.
And what of a song like the compelling Holland/Dozier/Holland "Love Child"? "…This love we’re contemplating/ Is worth the pain of waiting/ We’ll only end up hating/ The child we may be creating…." Wow! Sadly, most of society now shrugs at this sentiment, despite studies that show how damaging a single-parent household can be to a child. For me, the song is as timely as the day it was written.
I’ve not mentioned the composers who in some cases collaborated with these great lyricists. I’m not comfortable commenting on musical composition. That skill is a complete mystery to me. I can only copy, mimic on guitar. My attempts at songwriting have been laughable. Musician friends of mine are baffled that a novelist would be intimidated by songwriting.
What variety we are blessed with artistically. Still, I fear the craft of lyric writing has withered considerably. There is meaning in the music of the modern era, but artistry seems lacking. Perhaps it is just time, having sorted out all that was mediocre, that makes the past seem rich in standards. Hopefully, when the mediocrity has been separated from modern music, there will prove to be a similar percentage of standards. Then we will be able to continue to say, as Cole Porter did in the piece ("Did You Evah?") that prefaced this article: "…What a swellagant, elegant party this is."
Interested in exploring standards? Here’s a list of my favorite renditions, besides those already mentioned. Many are available to download using IPOD and such. And for more on Cole Porter, type his name into the Google search engine.
I Can’t Give You Anything but Love – Judy Garland Live at Carnegie Hall
This Can’t Be Love/ Almost Like Being in Love – same as above
In the Wee Small Hours of the Morning – Frank Sinatra
Luck Be a Lady – same as above
The Way You Look Tonight – same as above
The Best Is Yet to Come – same as above
One for My Baby and One More for the Road – Billie Holliday
Night and Day – Ella Fitzgerald
The Man I Love – same as above
‘S Wonderful – same as above
Blues in the Night – Rosemary Clooney
That Old Black Magic – Louis Prima and Keeley Smith
Beale Street Blues – Louis Armstrong
Hesitating Blues – same as above
Take the A Train – Duke Ellington (Betty Roche vocal)
Sentimental Journey – Les Brown Orchestra (Doris Day vocal)
Some will scoff at the inclusion of a songwriter amongst those other giants, but they would be wrong. Not only was he a master of language, he possessed the same insight into the soul as the aforementioned. And he delivered it with such ease and grace that I wonder if that was why I overlooked it for so long. Like Shakespeare, he was equally adept at tragedy and comedy.
Has anyone described the pain of passion as well as Porter did in "So in Love"? "…So taunt me, and hurt me, / Deceive me, desert me. / I’m yours till I die. / So in love am I…." It’s from "Kiss Me Kate," his reworking of "The Taming of the Shrew." PBS recently aired a new production. I eagerly awaited the arrival of the song and was disappointed that it was performed by the male lead in a semi-operatic voice that robbed it of its genuineness. K.D. Lang does a chilling version on an all-star tribute album, "Red Hot and Blue." It so accurately depicts how for some love is nearly madness. Not for me, of course.
Most are familiar with "I’ve Got You under My Skin," one of the greatest songs ever composed: "…Use your mentality,/ Wake up to reality…." Even the Four Seasons covered it. I love Frank Sinatra’s joyous up tempo rendition, but I did not understand the song’s true meaning until I heard Diana Krall’s contemplative, smoldering take. She inspired me to learn to play it. It took me two months to master the sophisticated composition of 18 chords, two of which I fudge, make simpler. I felt as if I finally accomplished something on guitar. It is amazing that two artists could interpret a song so differently and so wonderfully. I wonder which version Porter would have preferred.
If you want to swing or rock, check out "Too Darn Hot," also from "Kiss Me Kate," or "Now You Has Jazz" from the film "High Society," where Bing Crosby joins the Louis Armstrong ("arrivaducci") All Stars. They will have you shaking your booty.
No one wrote with more wit than Porter. There are so many incredible rhymes in "You’re the Top" that listening to it makes me feel I should leave writing to real masters: "Coloseum/Louvre Museum," "Strauss/Mickey Mouse," "Tower of Pisa/Mona Lisa," Mahatma Gandhi/Napoleon Brandy," "Spain/Cellophane," "Turkey dinner/Derby Winner," "Waldorf salad/Berlin Ballad," "Fred Astaire/Camembert." Imagine using "camembert" in song! His vocabulary is stunning. Stacy Kent does a bouncy, infectious version in under three minutes on her album "The Boy Next Door." Shakespeare said "Brevity is the soul of wit." Porter demonstrated this time and again.
"Brush up Your Shakespeare" is also from "Kiss Me Kate." In it, Porter uses a myriad of phrases from the Bard, mostly the titles of his works. It is a tour de force, or farce, astounding in its extensions, going on and on, almost wearing the listener out: "…start quoting him now/…and the women you will wow…." Here he demonstrated wide knowledge of classical literature, as he did of popular culture in "You’re the Top."
Homosexuals proudly note that Porter was gay. Fortunately, he was not a product of this era. He died in 1964. I shudder to think that he might have narrowed his focus, denied us the poignant universality of his work. I’m sick of having the approval of homosexuality shoved down my throat (no pun intended). What consenting adults do in privacy is not my business, but that doesn’t mean I must sanction such behavior or have my tax dollars subsidize it, especially when gays enjoy the highest standard of living of any group. I now avoid films that have a gay subtext. If a television program or news item focuses on the issue, I hit the remote or turn the page. K. D. Lang may have been singing of her feelings for another woman in "So in Love," but I don’t care. The vocal will always evoke the feelings I’ve had for the women in my life. And Porter may have been writing about another man in "You Do Something to Me," but you’d never know it. I was introduced to the song in a Judy Garland special rebroadcast by PBS, interrupted by maddening pledge breaks. Why PBS can’t get the billion dollar Muppets industry to subsidize itself is beyond me. Anyway, Garland was joined by Frank Sinatra and Dean Martin in a medley framed around the piece, directed expertly by Norman Jewison, who would go on to make fine films such as "The Russians Are Coming…" and "A Soldier’s Story". I was enthralled by the couplet: "…Let me live ‘neath your spell/ Do do that voodoo that you do so well…." Walking along the street, I would mouth it to myself, trying to get it right. As sung by those fabulous pros, it had an intoxicating smoothness.
As a writer, I experience a sense of foolishness when I think of how I overlooked the genius of Porter, Ira Gershwin and Johnny Mercer. I now understand why generation after generation of singers continues to record their work and will continue to do so, as Nancy Wilson said recently in a radio interview: "… until something better comes along." Their lyrics are poetic, honed. The freedom to say anything that modern writers enjoy seems to have stunted the growth of artistry. So much of their work comes off as mean-spirited, in your face cynicism.
The best measure of whether a song has reached the status of "standard" is the number of artists who have recorded it, say 50, not counting musak. Every so often a list is published of the greatest songs. Clearly, people are confused by the difference between a great song and a great record. A great record is distinguished by performance or production or both. The entire Elvis catalogue is evidence of this. There are many great rock ‘n roll records, but how many have been recorded by 50 different artists? And 50 is perhaps too low a measure.
The best counter to this argument would be the work of modern songwriters I admire who I doubt will have many of their works covered by 50 different artists. Joni Mitchell and Bob Dylan are brilliant. They accomplish more in one song than I do in an entire novel, but so much of their works are oddities musically, lacking melodious flow, which tends to make the works uniquely their own, despite the universality of their observations. Standards belong to everyone, although there are definitive versions of some. Anyone who records Ira Gershwin’s "The Man That Got Away" will always be compared to Judy Garland, yet any mature woman would love to interpret the many beautiful, profound couplets of this greatest of torch songs: "The night is bitter/ The stars have lost their glitter/ The winds grow colder/ And suddenly you’re older…." In the words of Phil Rizzuto: "Holy cow!"
Joni Mitchell framed the searing "Harry’s House" around Jon’s Hendricks’ classic, "Centerpiece," turning the original’s idealization of love into an ironic look at a marriage suffering the blues. Hendricks’ truth showed how we all would like love to be. Mitchell’s portrayed the bad patches all relationships endure. In her version, Hendricks’ positive "…Nothing’s any good without you…." becomes the harrowing "…Nothing’s any good…." It is not hummable, as standards are. It is an ingenious short story set to music, as is most of Dylan’s canon.
And what of a song like the compelling Holland/Dozier/Holland "Love Child"? "…This love we’re contemplating/ Is worth the pain of waiting/ We’ll only end up hating/ The child we may be creating…." Wow! Sadly, most of society now shrugs at this sentiment, despite studies that show how damaging a single-parent household can be to a child. For me, the song is as timely as the day it was written.
I’ve not mentioned the composers who in some cases collaborated with these great lyricists. I’m not comfortable commenting on musical composition. That skill is a complete mystery to me. I can only copy, mimic on guitar. My attempts at songwriting have been laughable. Musician friends of mine are baffled that a novelist would be intimidated by songwriting.
What variety we are blessed with artistically. Still, I fear the craft of lyric writing has withered considerably. There is meaning in the music of the modern era, but artistry seems lacking. Perhaps it is just time, having sorted out all that was mediocre, that makes the past seem rich in standards. Hopefully, when the mediocrity has been separated from modern music, there will prove to be a similar percentage of standards. Then we will be able to continue to say, as Cole Porter did in the piece ("Did You Evah?") that prefaced this article: "…What a swellagant, elegant party this is."
Interested in exploring standards? Here’s a list of my favorite renditions, besides those already mentioned. Many are available to download using IPOD and such. And for more on Cole Porter, type his name into the Google search engine.
I Can’t Give You Anything but Love – Judy Garland Live at Carnegie Hall
This Can’t Be Love/ Almost Like Being in Love – same as above
In the Wee Small Hours of the Morning – Frank Sinatra
Luck Be a Lady – same as above
The Way You Look Tonight – same as above
The Best Is Yet to Come – same as above
One for My Baby and One More for the Road – Billie Holliday
Night and Day – Ella Fitzgerald
The Man I Love – same as above
‘S Wonderful – same as above
Blues in the Night – Rosemary Clooney
That Old Black Magic – Louis Prima and Keeley Smith
Beale Street Blues – Louis Armstrong
Hesitating Blues – same as above
Take the A Train – Duke Ellington (Betty Roche vocal)
Sentimental Journey – Les Brown Orchestra (Doris Day vocal)
For more of Vic's work, visit:
Novel excerpts and stories.
Novel excerpts and stories.
Use the feedback form below to submit your comments.
Use the form below to email this article to your friends.
