MOSTLY I FEEL SORRY FOR THE OLD FASHIONED LOUNGE SINGERS

Mostly I feel sorry for the old fashioned lounge singers.

Everything went well all the way through World War II and the

Korean War and even John F. Kennedy’s assassination. But

then somebody, I don’t know who, lit a stick of lavender incense and Vietnam, the aromas filled the room and it was no longer possible to sing LADY BE GOOD and THAT OLD DEVIL

MOON and ‘S WONDERFUL you had to sing things like LUCY IN THE SKY WITH DIAMONDS or EVE OF

DESTRUCTION and you had to lie down on the floor of the photo studio and let them take pictures of you wearing bell bottoms looking casual and groovy

with your hair grown half way over your ears in a little bowl cut and perhaps dyed black

and it’s hot in the studios. And noisy. It’s cool and minty, however, in the bars and lounges of yesteryear. And they have toothpick dispensers even. Of course the

only way you can survive this now is by thinking about the first time that you heard

LADY BE GOOD and what that lovely lady in the front row was wearing, a bonnet, and it almost looked like she was blowing you

a kiss in cotton floral print. Be good, Lady! Hooray! The war is over! Look at all the confetti on your

dinner jacket and how it wiggles and squiggles in your champagne. And if that isn’t bad enough, here we are now, we’re sweating, what’s that smell, and

the bell bottoms are a little snug, and striped–yellow, and seriously–purple and green.