"Sway" / Dean Martin

How did I get here? I have no idea. We've been working our way through the classic TV series The Sopranos, which sneaks in a ton of iconic Frankie and Deano music, and a recent episode of the adorably quirky What We Do in the Shadows features a faux Rat Pack. But this particular Dean Martin track was already on my iTunes, and every time I listen to it I fall more in love with it. 

Now, I greatly admire the work of Francis Albert Sinatra, and I feel a fond buzz for Sammy Davis Jr. But Dean Martin is my Rat Pack fave. I mean, listen to the warmth of that voice, those emotive swoops and shivers. That mambo rhythm is so freaking seductive, and Dean's delivery adds an extra shiver of excitement. ("When we sway I go weak..."). Is it overproduced? Yeah, maybe, but I wouldn't give up those strings for anything.

"You know how, sway me smooth, sway-hay me now..."

"Sway" is Dean before he became enshrined as Deano, when he was still known mostly as Jerry Lewis' straight man. (Yet another mind-blowing layer of Dean Martin's career.) While Martin was one of many 50s Italian crooners, this song isn't Italian at all; it was written as "Quien Sera?" in 1953 by Mexican bandleader Pablo Beltran Ruiz, rewritten with English lyrics by Norman Gimbel (who a decade later would translate for us "The Girl from Ipanema"). Martin recorded it soon after the original, in 1954. It wasn't his biggest hit ever -- for that, you'd have to go to his schmaltzy 1963 "Everybody Loves Somebody Sometime" -- but it did hit a respectable #15 in the US. And for my money, this sexy supple number blows that hit out of the water.

Because the wink-wink was always Dean Martin's ace in the hole. Sinatra was ineffably cool, Davis was earnest, Martin was ironic. He had to be ironic to stand up against Jerry Lewis' full-frontal low-brow comedy; in the Matt Helm movies, he was the ironic anti-Bond. His weird and wonderful late 60s-early 70s TV show The Dean Martin Show was, I firmly believe, a groundbreaking post-Laugh In send-up of the variety show genre. He cultivated a drunk persona to give himself room to be loose, to improvise, to be in real time.

The irony here is all flirtation, of course, the engaging to-and-fro of the mambo. Yet it feels remarkably sincere, doesn't it? I love it. I hope you do too.

My Musical Advent Calendar

"Baby It's Cold Outside" /
Dean Martin

Instead of a glitter-spangled scene with doors for every day of December, how about a daily treat from my iTunes holiday playlist?

So what are the holidays without some vintage cheese? 

I'm talking Rat Pack cheese here, of the most oleaginous kind, courtesy of Mr. Dino Paul Crocetti, a.k.a The King Of Cool, Dean Martin.  I used to love watching his 1960s variety show, where, cigarette always in hand, he boozed around with a bevy of creamy showgirls for the American viewing public. (Honestly, if you've never seen those shows, dig up an episode or two -- they were a fascinating weekly ritual of show biz tropes.)  With his crinkly blue eyes and corkscrew black forelock, he eventually broke out of the 1950s pack of male Italian crooners, yet he was always overshadowed by his movie partner Jerry Lewis, then by his Ocean's 11 pal Frank Sinatra. Dean never quite got enough credit for the burnished beauty of his crooning tenor, not to mention his considerable acting chops.

Dean recorded two full Christmas albums, but for sheer pop perfection, this track from his 1959 A Winter Romance LP will forever be my favorite.

Frank Loesser wrote this standard in 1944; it appeared in the 1949 MGM film Neptune's Daughter, an Esther Williams movie. Written as a duet, it's a teasing conversation between an innocent and a sly seducer. (In the movie it's sung twice -- once with Ricardo Montalban seducing Esther Williams, and then a more comic version with Betty Garrett seducing a rube played by Red Skelton.)  But Deano wasn't content to sing it with just one woman -- no, he's got a whole female chorus on that other part, as he exerts his laid-back charm to convince them to stay over in his bachelor pad.

But methinks the ladies doth protest too much.  As Dean rebuts their every argument, his supple voice practically caresses them. "I'll hold your hands -- they're cold as ice", "Put some records on while I pour," "I'll take your hat, your hair looks swell" -- now who resist blandishments like that?

And it really is getting awfully cold outside . . .