Out of my dreams...

When I was a sappy teenager, we had these big band leftovers, like Mantovani, Billy Vaughn, and Ray Conniff, whose Bouquet of Love is playing now even as I write, happily now living on my hard drive instead of being in black vinyl prison. Lots of strings. Sentimental songs like If I Loved You, from Rogers and Hammerstein's Carousel. Pretty music, without vocal. My daughter was so stunned when she heard her first "instrumental". I actually loved the songs without words, even have a couple of compilations of Puccini without the singing, so one can truly appreciate the lushness of his orchestrations. And today, with the amplification and digitalization, anyone can become a pop idol. It's like kareoke out there, and often just as disappointing. Songs have no melodies, leading to lots of just riffling around. As far as I am concerned, the only singer ever allowed to do that is Ella Fitzgerald. Everyone else just sounds like they forgot the words. Anyhoo, later I hope to borrow some of my mother's ooey-gooey Mantovani and 101 Strings albums. And find a copy of Andre Previn's Like Love. She shall have music wherever she goes. She has an IPod.