skylarking

That most effortless of jazzy singers up there is Johnny Mercer. He wrote this tune, which is called "Jamboree Jones". The kid lipsynching clarinet is Clark Burroughs of the Hi-Lo's.


November 18, 2010 is Mercer's 101st birthday. It is impossible to overestimate his talent, impact, and contribution. His first hit, "Lazybones", came to us in 1933. He co-wrote it with Hoagy Carmichael, with whom he wrote my favorite standard song of all time, "Skylark" (1941).

Mercer, Carmichael, and Willard Robison mean the world to me, as someone who came from a blue collar family but who aspired to play jazz.

Jazz standards -- Cole Porter, Jerome Kern et al -- had that "Penthouse Serenade" quality of martinis and tuxedos. Nightclubs, not bars.

But Mercer, Hoagy, and Robison were different. Carmichael and Robison were midwesterners, mercer from Georgia, and their songs had real people in them. While the Porter's and Kern's were outmoded by the end of World War II, Mercer continued to be a viable songwriter and performer into the seventies (Darling Lili, his last collaboration with Mancini, gave us the Oscar winning "Whistling Away The Dark").

Mercer's lyrics were among the most poetic in all of American song, but they always had their feet on the ground somehow. "Moon River" is a classic example:


The scene is unforgettable as is the song. Definitely one of Mancini's greatest melodies, and probably Blake Edward's all-time moment as a director. I've always believed that Mancini called to Mercer for lyrics for this because her knew he was on the verge of a masterpiece. Another example, unforgettable, untouchable, irrefutable:



I don't think I'm saying anything new to suggest this was Mancini's, Mercer's, Jack Lemmon's, Lee Remick's, Jack Klugman's, and Blake Edwards' crowning work. Days Of Wine and Roses was the career moment of everyone involved with this film on both sides of the camera. And I think they all knew it would be, because there's a certain 'elevate my game' quality to everybody's contribution, including Mercer's.

Mercer was no stranger to drinking. In the classic fashion, this most gentle and poetic of souls had his heartaches. His classic "One For My Baby" is the most perfect expression of this experience. Sinatra planted the flag in this song as if it was a territory he was conquering, and [the song] has become so closely identified with Sinatra that it nearly defies reason to consider it had been written as an uptempo bit for Fred Astaire to sing in his 1941 flick The Sky's The Limit. Sinatra's reading is true and perfect, Fred be damned.



(Most often Mercer's lyrics found perfect voice in Bing Crosby, but that's a whole other story.)

Mercer was also a truly gifted jazz singer. Here he appears on the Nat King Cole show, Nat on piano and vocals, in the fifties.



Few songwriters of this caliber could ever regularly offer such definitive reading of their own material. Roger Miller comes to mind, as does ... Wow. Nobody. Not like this.

I'll leave you with this: