Frank Sinatra, who died at 82, would have been 100 years old today. He was the Justin of his time (Timberlake or Bieber in terms of making tween and teen girls first think about the day they’ll go all the way).
Now, this is my favorite Sinatra song. It was orchestrated by Nelson Riddle. There are a couple of impressive live versions, especially one arranged by Quincy Jones. And I’ve heard other studio versions with a slower tempo that just don’t work for me. Who’s idea was that, anyway?
But this version makes me feel like I’m kicking back in a private room backstage in Vegas with Dean, Sammy and Angie. We’ve all have a martini in one hand and a cheroot in the other. But not Angie, because she has class. And we know Pete will show up later, because he brings a few more broads with him. And don’t forget to call Joey, cause he’s always good for a laugh.
Ring a ding ding!
(And while I’m thinking about Nelson Riddle, he had this great earworm back in the early ’60s.)
(I wonder if Tod and Buz ever found the end of the highway?)