Soliquory
HOW LITTLE WE KNOW
The best thing, I suppose, about being a Sinatra addict is, you can
easily avoid going on Turkey. Fifty-five years of studio dates,
movies, radio shows, TV broadcasts, and concerts: The music never
ends. I remember around 1992 I first read a line by a lifelong
Sinatraphile, who after decades of collecting and professionally
presenting the music, simply wrote: "Today, I'm still discovering
Frank Sinatra".
That's it, folks. I'm more convinced now than ever, that I'll be
repeating that line as well for the rest of my life - ya know, until
they have to carry me away by the handles.
The man who wrote that lline was the late Alan Dell, a well-reknowned
BBC radio broadcaster, in his preface to a fat volume called "The
Sinatrafile Part 2", by John Ridgway of Birmingham.
And that's another story: I still have a small box stashed away
somewhere entitled "The Sinatra Songbook". Inside, a 500 or so
hand-written cards, one for each song, on which I had tried to copy
all song information available from browsing the LP sleeves notes. I
can't figure out why I started that in the first place - maybe just
my affection to dive into history and past times' testimonies in
general, which has since become my profession -, but I remember my
innocent thoughts, such as "there should be a discography". Of
course, they were already around, with Ridgway's book becoming the
first I discovered.
I have to confess it led to yet another obsession. I started feeding
my computer with titles, dates, venues, composers, arrangers,
conductors, release numbers, alternate takes, session analysis. And
who cared about my university lessons anyway: This was the stuff that
really mattered. You know what I mean. Crazy Love.