(A little NSFW @ Joey Heatherton down the page here.)
*pulls up MOG; search song "Someone to Watch Over Me"; selects a couple of dozen versions ... I love MOG!*
The trick, it seems to me, with this tune, is that has great phrasing built in.
"I might not be the man some
girls think of
as handsome."
Ya better get that right to give George and Ira their due.
In a lot of versions this phrasing just doesn't harken back to the gist of the tune well enough for me.
The Platters: Doo bop shoe wop. Swings a little hard for this gentle song, but it's fun.
Willie: I hate it when they change the gender of this song and say "pretty" instead of "handsome." But Willie knows the soul of the tune.
Chet Baker's phasing is amazing ... but he totally shreds the original meter sometimes.
Sarah Vaughan: Wow. What a strong lady. Sinatra tells the story; Sarah is the story. She may overpower the tune itself ... and I find that a bit distracting.
John Boutte: Totally missed the phrasing. Trying to get all those black singer trills and wobbles ... c'mon.
Take 6: Love these guys, love the harmonies, but too much warbling. (see above)
Sheena Easton: Very pretty ... too pretty ... and too slow ... and missed the phrase.
Ben Webster: Okay, it's an instrumental, but sweet Jesus, how does a guy play a sax with his balls? I want a drink, and cigar, and the time and place to sit and listen to this guy.
Blossom Deary: Yes please, I would like a blow job. Brutally cute, in a Bernadette Peters sort of way. Sorry, the song is bigger than she.
Joni James: Sounds like it was recorded in a bathroom ... wtf. I don't think they were wearing any headphones, this one falls apart.
Jae Alexander: Just don't like those over-trained broadway vocals. The schmaltz is strong with this one.
Etta James: O.M.G. the hair is standing up on the back of my neck. Fucks with the phrasing ... and then nails it. I wanna take her home after this set, and smoke weed, and drink bourbon, and sweat up some sheets with a hot and sticky stink. I need a cigarette after this one.
Frank Sinatra (late): Geez, I guess I'm with JPnums, it's not nearly as good as he can be. (I hate that he tells a story so well with a song---the most important characteristic of the art form, to me--- 'cuz then I can't just call him a dick and be done with it. He's a great singer.)
Michael Feinstein: Shesh ... more schmaltz.
Nancy Wilson (Great American Songbook): Like Etta, but you'd have to spend more money on dinner. Beautiful, but not definitive.
Gene Ammons: Lovely. Smoove. Do instrumentals count?
Jimmy Raney: A bit pedantic.
Zoot Sims: Phoned it in.
The Flamingos: If Elvis were black, and played lounge sets at the "2001: A Space Odyssey" space station, this would be the shit.
Manhattan Transfer: A white people doo-wop version of a Gershwin standard!? I don't think so.
(A young) Frank Sinatra - the 78 version: Lovely. It's like Chet got sober. Very old school arraignments though.
Sting: Really doesn't have the pipes the old singers do, but he gives himself to the song, and not the other way around. Not a special version though.
Gladys Knight: Right with JP on this one.
Lena Horne: I think she overpowers the tune; she didn't surrender to it.
Nancy Wilson (on Jimmy Smith's "The Sermon!"): Yeah baby, this one is good. A "one thing," a little piece of art that floats in the air.
Art Garfunkle: Sugary sweet and smarmy, no thanks.
Barbara Streisand: Great voice, but it's all about her, isn't it?
Percy Faith: Gebus, the chart must look like a phone book. Took a half hour to pass it out. So, how many strings can you put in a studio? Fucking orchestrated within and inch of it's life. I'm off this elevator.
Joey Heatherton: Win!
Though her voice isn't quite as rich as some of the lady Jazz vocalists above, she's true to the songs phrasing and belts it out nicely. Reminds me of a female Willie Nelson ... but WAY hotter.
Rickie Lee Jones: It's not fair really, I'm in love with her. She missed the phrasing though, and she always sounds like she needs to blow her nose. But, good god, she could dribble snot on me all night long.
Raymond Scott: More space lounge music with this harmonica, sax, and muted trumpet instrumental. Fun though. Yes, I will take an umbrella in my drink.
Elton John: The community theater years? William Shatner learned to sing? Yuck. Worse yet it's 6:41 for a three minute song. JP nailed it again.
Pearl Baily: I must have a thing for strong black women. A straight up version with a bit of pizzaz; it's dated but a nice version. The back-up choir in the middle taking the chorus is a bit corny, though.
Ray Charles: It's a bit slow for him, misses a couple notes, and seems a bit shaky.
Liberace (!?): You know, I was all ready to take a bunch of pot shots at him, but his piano instrumental version of this tune is sensitive and true ... just a bit over-embellished, of course, but it's Liberace fer Christ sake, and he really didn't go too far over the top on this one.
Adam Rafferty: A sweet solo guitar piece. Nicely done ... I may need to take a nap.
Rebecca Zapen: Sweet and simple vocals ... starts slow, and then swings nicely. Misses the phrase though.
Artie Shaw: Geez that guy can toot. Good stuff.
Brazillian Tropical Orchestra: See Percy Faith above ... third floor, patio furniture, plastic plants, doubleknit loungewear, all off.
Art Tatum: The guy thinks he gets paid by the note, doesn't he? He knows the tune though, that's for sure.
Sammy Davis Jr.: Like. Too bad he hung out with those nasty white guys. Underrated I reckon. Nails the phrase. Yeah, this is a good version.
Coleman Hawkins & His Orchestra on "Hollywood Stampede": Wanna know what "cool" really means? Mastery floating a song up in the air, this one.
Bud Powell: Shhh! I'm listening ... pass that doob, will ya.
Stanley Turrentine: Shyeah, the guy's got old school chops. I think I need to go back and listen to more of his stuff I guess.
Betty Yuzu: Ever hear an oriental over-pronouncing her "r"s. Weird.
Norrie Paramour: I hate it when opera singers do jazz. Sometimes her voice sounds like a Theremin. WTF, she only sings like two lines of the song ... thank goodness.
Linda Ronstadt and Nelson Riddle: Man she's got pipes. Sweet and strong, innocent and sexy, and Riddle's orchestration without ostentation is just lovely. Gotta say, I think this one is it.
Thanks for the diversion, Ric. Was up at 5 am; 9 now and gotta get back to my K550 review, but that was fun, mang.
