Word: ella
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Dates: during 1990-1999
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Wouldn't it be cool if there were an electronic diary that you could write to and it would write back?" asked my brilliant eight-year-old, Zoe. Thus began another Mr. Peabody Night in the Quittner household, with me, Zoe and Ella, 6, cruising the Web in search of infotainment. We piled into the Mac, slipped out onto the Infobahn and, faster than you can say, "Open the pod doors, Hal," found ourselves in the company of Julia...
...sung Porter, of course, performing Too Darn Hot in Jewel Unplugged on MTV. She also polished her singing style while listening to what she calls her Bible, the classic album Ella Fitzgerald Sings the Cole Porter Songbook. But only last month did she learn that Porter was white. "Whew!" she said. "I'm learning minutiae. It's killing me." And it's only been a couple of years since she discovered it was the Beatles who sang I Want to Hold Your Hand--which she liked. When another rider at the stable tells her she was born on the same...
Which reminds me: Spend some portion of each day studying beauty, in any form. Especially study the line, be it in Shakespeare or Conrad, or in a song by Louis or Ella, or in a drawing by Jules Feiffer or Chuck Jones. The line is the basic unit of beauty...
Sinatra has always occupied a gray area between jazz and pop. The small group setting here--vibraphonist Red Norvo's quintet plus longtime Sinatra pianist Bill Miller--frees him to the extent that on some numbers his sense of swing and invention approaches Ella Fitzgerald's joyous, ineluctable pulse (and justifies Capitol's releasing this find on its Blue Note jazz subsidiary). With I've Got You Under My Skin, Sinatra even surpasses the vocal on his famous Songs for Swingin' Lovers version, which really belongs to arranger Nelson Riddle. And as wonderful as that studio performance is, it doesn...
...scene opens: you're in the drawing room of a simple yet elegant English cottage, the soothing strains of Ella singing "Always" wafting in the background, fresh flowers on the table and a decanter of wine waiting for you. Suddenly, from stage left, caustic British wit slices through the air and shatters the soft stillness. This, my friends, is a Noel Coward play...