Wake Up and Listen

A great many new problems have arisen in the last few years which might both vex and bewilder the casual and occasional popular song listener, In past years, in my own youth, it was sufficient to tap a foot or a finger and perhaps nod the head in time to the music when listening to ballads and such. Rhythm has always supplied a basic human need since that greatest of all songsters, Homer. Somewhere along the line, however, a queerly shaped instrument called "saxophone" came into being. By blowing one's breath into the smaller aperture of said instrument, thence through a wood or plastic sliver called a "reed," it is possible to make a most magnificent array of nearly organic sounds. Probably the most frequently imitated sounds are animal grunts, shrill screams of pleasure, and all variety of passionate outcries. Needless to say, a mere finger-tapper has become a man representative of the crudest sensibilities. It is now necessary to writhe or "rock" or wriggle one's whole body in a number of strange contortions, and to accompany this motion with a relaxation of the facial muscles and a slight quivering of the lips. This, then, is the first problem that confronts the popular song listener: Learn to express your response through all limbs, trunk, as well as digits, and you will soon surmount the first obstacle on the road to full musical appreciation.

The second and no less difficult barrier concerns lyrics. I first noticed the trend toward obscurity a number of years ago when Frank Sinatra sand a lyric of which the third verse consisted entirely of "ali-dabi doopy da pha. Oh! fee dee de bah bippidy Oh!" The song, as I remember, was called "An Old Stone House," which seemed to offer no satisfactory clue to the interpretation of the lyric. Although my work and ultimate understanding of this verse makes a fascinating story, I would rather take a contemporary and somewhat easier example.

In a song entitled "Flip, Flop and Fly" the line occurs "When I get lonely, I jump on the telephone." ON first hearing, this sentiment seems somewhat ridiculous, if not downright neurotic. You try to visualize someone stamping and kicking and jumping on the telephone because he is lonely. It just doesn't seem right. Then you think of substituting "at" for "on," and the line begins to take on new meaning. When you visualize a person "jumping at" the telephone, it is an easy step from there to the final explication, "When I am lonely, I jump up from where I am sitting and go to the telephone, (conceivably to call someone who will rectify his loneliness)">

Now, what if you should hear this passage: "You give me no chance, no chance, no chance, no chance. (Come on give me that chance.) No chance, no chance, no chance, no chance. (Come on give me one chance.) No chance, no chance, no chance, no chance. Umwamumunwam." Play around with that one a little.

There has been a vast change in the pronunciation of the average song stylist. To those who find lyrics incomprehensible as well as obscure. I can only offer this advice: 1) Make no distinction between vowels, because the singers themselves make none; 2) Do not worry if monosyllables are turned into polysyllables: 3) The expressions "doo doo doo doo" and "du whah, du whah" are not meant to be words, but are to create a rhythmical effect.

Perhaps a few examples will help you here too. In the song, "Play Me Hearts and Flowers," Johnny Desmond finds himself up against the words, "and let me cry." He sings them like this: "Hun-n-nd Elogt ma-hovcra-high." The well known words. "Why, oh why do I love Paris" are handled by a rising chantrense in this manner, "Wha aw wha ah luv Parise." Got its