Tag Archives: jazz

Noise Narcs goes out on a cold white table: Noise Variations on “St James Infirmary”

So, this is our final “official” post before we enter the blissful sleep of the real world. Thanks for reading. But does anyone mourn the passing of a music blog? I mean, c’mon now: this ain’t no Rolling Stone. Thank God. But if one were to mourn a music blog, there’d only be one way to do it: the immemorial NOLA dirge, “St. James Infirmary.”

It’s a song recorded by hundreds. Of unclear origins—possibly forked from the old English folk song “The Unfortunate Rake,” possibly not. “Written” in the early 20th century, but not recorded until 1928. Multiple claims to authorship, multiple disputed authors. Lyrical variations laid upon lyrical variations: some start in a bar, some in the infirmary. All end in recalcitrant sorrow. A palimpsest of heartbreak. And even the most dreadful versions cannot sully the song’s core: the sorrow of the unrepentant sinner, world-weary but defiant. Defiant but broken.

All the versions, whether they start at old Joe’s bar room or the infirmary, concern a gambling man who confronts the body of his dead lover in the titular infirmary. Thoroughly grieved, he thinks of his own death. But even through the grief, he will not give up his earthly ways. He’s to be buried in high style, with the accouterments of the gambler: a fifth of Chivas, a Stetson hat, or a 20-dollar gold piece. Head held high; heart sunk low; ready for death.

Louis Armstrong

Although Armstrong was not the first to record “St. James,” Robert W. Harwood whose definitive book I Went Down to St. James Infirmary [Buy] and accompanying blog are worth checking out, describes how Satchmo formed it into perfection:

The versions that appeared in Carl Sandburg’s collection of traditional American songs (The American Songbag – ©1927) were written in 6/8 time. They were ballads. One of the significant differences between these songs and the recordings that both included and followed the 1928 Louis Armstrong recording was a change in rhythm – to 4/4 time. With this change in rhythm the song had become danceable. More specifically, one could dance the foxtrot to it. [I Went Down to St. James Infirmary]

So the next time someone says that they don’t get what jazz is all about (it happens), I’m going to give them this definition: beyond the improvisation, jazz is, at heart, grief you can dance to. You can hear it, in all fullness, in Armstrong’s first recorded version, 12/12/1928, Chicago, which for the record, jazz purists, involved no improvisation. Still hits it for me.

Louis Armstrong & His Savoy Ballroom Five, “St. James Infirmary”

But if someone wants something more than a wordy definition for jazz, offer them Armstrong’s languorous version from 1959’s Satchmo Plays King Oliver. It’s possible for somebody not to “get” jazz. It’s impossible to not get this recording. Slowed down to a crawl, with aching harmonization, softly whirling trumpet, and clarinet lines that simply cannot be beat. It’s shocking to hear the difference in Armstrong’s voice; how airy it was in 1928, how effectively he uses his age-grained voice in ’59. And, when he laughs at the line, “she can look this wide world over, but she’ll never find a sweet man like me,” calling himself out as a braggard, he gets to the very heart of the song’s wounded defiance. And lucky for us, every single beat of this song gets it, too. This is the song as I first heard it, this is the song that accompanies me in every sundry sadness. This defines “dirge.”

Louis Armstrong, “St. James Infirmary” [Buy]

Have you picked yourself up from the floor? Your tear holes all plugged up? Good. Although no version, in my mind, touches Armstrong’s take from 1959, there are, unsurprisingly, a multitude of excellent versions of this song.

Allen Toussaint

Let’s ease our way back in with a breezy instrumental version from Allan Tuissant. Even played as a folksy jam, this song doesn’t lose its bite. And there’s nothing not to love with Tuissant’s boogying piano or that upright bass work.

Allen Toussaint, ” St. James Infirmary”

Bobby “Blue” Bland

What? Sick of jazz already? What do you think this is, some sort of indie rock blog? Guess what: blog’s dead, baby, blog’s dead. But fine, we’ll move off jazz. How does a NOLA funeral dirge play as traditional soul? Quite fine, sir, quite fine. And I desperately want to be at this Bland show. Pun! Seriously, damn masterful soul.

Bobby “Blue” Bland, “St. James Infirmary Blues” [Buy]

Lou Rawls

Still sick of jazz? Well, how about some soul jazz, you philistine? Starts off a capella. That voice, man, is a devastating killer. Jesus, Lou, that voice. Then the band kicks in, and it swings. Oh boy does it swing.

Lou Rawls, “St. James Infirmary (Live)”

Cab Calloway

Back to jazz, suckers. For years, I had this version marked down as mediocre, but on re-listen, the cartooniness that I always hated, that always seemed off-color, underscores the song’s essential deep, bleak current. There’s also a Betty Boop cartoon set to this version that I won’t link to because it’s just so goddamned racist.

Cab Calloway, “St. James Infirmary” [Buy]

Wingy Malone

Why include this song? When we already have a superior early dixeland version in Armstrong’s? When you’re already sick of jazz? Because Wingy Manone only had one arm, that’s why. Take that, Rick Allen. Also, sick clarinet solo, ya’ll. You play it so good, indeed.

Wingy Malone, “St. James Infirmary” [Buy]

Eric Burdon and the Animals

Okay. We’re done with jazz, promise. But what the hell is this? This version’s source is the branch that starts at an Irish bar. It has wailing “Oh no” background singers. And a guitar pedaled to sound like a sitar. And then goes from blues into punchy psych-pop guitar. And then ends with jazz rock piano. It’s… Jesus. What the hell is this?

Eric Burdon and The Animals, “St. James Infirmary” [Buy]

The White Stripes

They turn it into a White Stripes song. !Que Sorpresa!

The White Stripes, “St. James Infirmary Blues”

Pete Seeger

I’ve never been a fan of Seegar. His brand of folk always felt too pedantic to me. His voice too reedy. So I wanted to hate this version. Seegar’s thin, twisting voice seems like it’d be an odd choice. But in duet with his banjo, it strikes the core of this song’s despair. It’s plainness is relentless.

Pete Seeger, “St. James Infirmary” [Buy]

Bob Dylan

Given the palimp-cestuous nature of “St. James Infirmary,” it’s only fitting to end this post with a song that’s only derived from it. See, Blind Willie McTell was a blues guitarist from Georgia, born blind in one eye, and then had his sight fade from the other. He wrote the classic “Dyin’ Crapshoot Blues (although his authorship seems to have been, fittingly, a bit of a lie), which borrows liberally from “St. James Infirmary.”

Originally intended for Infidelds, Dylan’s “Blind Willie McTell” weaves the twisted history of “St. James” and “Crapshoot Blues” into this gorgeous, dazzlingly self-referential track. Dylan envisions himself travelling the earth in search of the blues, only to repeatedly find that “no one can sing the blues like Blind Willie McTell.” The kicker? Dylan forms the melody from “St. James Infirmary.” A self-portrait of the artist as a copy. An unending circle of borrowing, of the meaningless of authenticity, of genius. And at the end of the song’s fruitless search for authenticity, Dylan, envisioning himself back in his North Country hearth, winks, pointing out the window of Minneapolis’ St. James Hotel. Bring it all—this post, this blog, “St. James Infirmary’—back home, Bobby:

Well, God is in His heaven
And we all want what’s his
But power and greed and corruptible seed
Seem to be all that there is
I’m gazing out the window
Of the St. James Hotel
And I know no one can sing the blues
Like Blind Willie McTell

Bob Dylan, “Blind Willie McTell”

Noise Narcs out.

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Chet Baker and “My Funny Valentine”

Rodgers’ and Hart’s 1937 showtune, “My Funny Valentine,” has been recorded by over 600 artists, if we believe Wikipedia on this.  Those artists include Frank Sinatra, Ella Fitzgerald, The Supremes, Nico, Jerry Garcia, Chaka Khan and many others.  One of these days, we will give it the full “Noise Variations” treatment, and that’s a Noise Narc Promise.

But for today you’re just going to hear two of my favorite renditions, one from the very beginning and the other from the very end of Chet Baker’s career.

Baker, one of the giants of west coast cool jazz, was also one of the first to have a hit with the song when he recorded it with Gerry Mulligan’s quartet in 1952.  I think Baker is playing a flugelhorn on this cut, as he often did, and the contrapuntal style of harmonizing with Mulligan on bari sax develops the thoughtful, measured tone of the track, transforming a jokey song about a lover’s endearing imperfections into one that embodies the complicated sense of melancholy that characterized much of Baker’s oeuvre.

Gerry Mulligan Quartet, “My Funny Valentine” [Buy Chet Baker: Career: 1952-1988]

Baker was only 23 years old on the above track; the 35 years he had left would not be kind.  Heroin addiction is hard on the body.  The 58 year old face you’ll see in the following video will look older than that.  Once, trying to score, he got jacked and beaten, so all of his teeth were pulled and he had to relearn how to play with dentures.

Addiction also leverages personal relationships into money for drugs.  He was a liar and a promise breaker.  People cared about him, and he used that against them.  The highly recommended 1988 documentary of his life, Let’s Get Lost, exposes this cruelty through the hurt and hopeless faces of his friends and loved ones.  He was just so good at manipulating emotions.  It was easy for him.

The following video, excerpted from a 1987 performance in Tokyo (sorry that the piano solo is cut short), treats us to Baker’s trumpet-playing as well as his singing.  He sang like he played, and his voice, shakier than once upon a time, nevertheless has the soft, sweet tone for which he was famous.  In spite of everything, his last recordings in the 80s were among the best of his career.

He fell from his second story hotel room in Amsterdam and died on May 13, 1988.

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Noise Variations: “Blue Velvet” through the Years

In honor of David Lynch’s release on vinyl of his single “Good Day Today” (and our love of all things Lynch), Noise Narcs is posting on the music of, for, and about David Lynch this week. See our intro post (and claim of Lynch as a Philadelphian) here, and see the rest of the DLW posts here.

Few directors capture so well the menacing strangeness of America’s small towns and suburbs as David Lynch.  Twin Peaks gave this theme its full, soap-opera-length treatment, but Lynch had already begun to probe the heartland of darkness in earnest five years earlier with the masterful Blue Velvet (1986).

In the picket-fence town of Lumberton, U.S.A., young Jeffrey Beaumont (Kyle MacLachlan) is drawn like a reverse moth into an Oedipal nightmare of violence and sexual desire.  The film’s central image, its titular fetish, is a blue velvet stuff gag.

She wore blue velvet
Bluer than velvet was the night
Softer than satin was the light
From the stars
She wore blue velvet
Bluer than velvet were her eyes
Warmer than May her tender sighs
Love was ours
Ours a love I held tightly
Feeling the rapture grow
Like a flame burning brightly
But when she left, gone was the glow of
Blue velvet
But in my heart there’ll always be
Precious and warm, a memory
Through the years
And I still can see blue velvet
Through my tears

Tony Bennett was the first to have an early hit with the Bernie Wayne and Lee Morris penned pop song in 1951, a million years ago.  Soaring strings complement his crooning style.

Tony Bennett, “Blue Velvet”

In 1955, a D.C. doo-wop outfit, The Clovers, recorded their version of the song.  The Clovers would eventually be best known for their 1959 hit, “Love Potion #9.”

The Clovers, “Blue Velvet”

Taking their cue from The Clovers, a Cleveland-based doo-wop group, The Moonglows, recorded one of my favorite versions in 1957.

The Moonglows, “Blue Velvet”

Then, in 1963, the “Polish Prince,” Bobby Vinton conceived of Blue on Blue, an entire album of songs with the word “Blue” in the title.  “Blue Skies,” “Blue Hawaii,” “Blueberry Hill,” “My Blue Heaven,” etc.  This is inarguably the most famous rendition of “Blue Velvet,” hitting number 1 on the Billboard Hot 100 and staying there for three weeks.  It is also the version that opens Lynch’s film.

Bobby Vinton, “Blue Velvet”

And three other notable versions:

And of course:

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Everybody Loves to Love Somebody in Italian

Shame on us. After our two posts on covers of the immortal, Bee Gees-penned “To Love Somebody,” you think we’d have some expertise on the subject. But, even though we included Nina Simone’s version on one of those posts, I was still blown out of the water by Nina’s Italian version that Joey Sweeney played yesterday on hisYRock DJ set. Sure, the instrumentation is very similar to her English version, mostly just dialing up some generic strings, but oh my God does this translate well to Petrarch’s tongue. And Nina’s.

Nina Simone, “Cosi Ti Amo (To Love Somebody)”

Previously: Everybody Loves to Love Somebody, Everybody Loves to Write About To Love Somebody

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“But this one’s a great jazz musician”*: RIP James Moody

Jazz saxophonist/flautist James Moody died on Thursday after a months-long battle with pancreatic cancer.  He was 85 years old.

Earlier this month he received a grammy nomination for Moody 4B [Buy], an album recorded in 2008 but released this year.

Bill Cosby and Nancy Wilson (playing Denise’s mother-in-law) sang a duet of Moody’s most famous song, “Moody’s Mood for Love,” in an episode of The Cosby Show.  The youtube clip is unembeddable so you’ll have to follow this link.

NYT on “Moody’s Mood for Love”:

The song he sang most often had a memorable name and an unusual history. Based on the harmonic structure of “I’m in the Mood for Love,” it began life as an instrumental when Mr. Moody recorded it in Stockholm in 1949, improvising an entirely new melody on a borrowed alto saxophone. Released as “I’m in the Mood for Love” (and credited to that song’s writers) even though his rendition bore only the faintest resemblance to the original tune, it was a modest hit for Mr. Moody in 1951. It became a much bigger hit shortly afterward when the singer Eddie Jefferson wrote lyrics to Mr. Moody’s improvisation and another singer, King Pleasure, recorded it as “Moody’s Mood for Love.”

James Moody, “Rest Sweetly, Brother Dove” [Buy The Teachers/Heritage Hum]

*A reference to Simpson’s episode 2F32, “Round Springfield,” in which we are introduced to Bleedin’ Gums Murphy, previously referenced on Noise Narcs here.

Cosby: Hey, kids!  Meet Grampa Murphy.
Child: We have three grampas already!
Cosby: This one's a great jazz musician.
Child: Oh, they _all_ are.
Cosby: Oh, oh: you see, the kids, they listen to the rap music which
       gives them the brain damage.  With their hippin', and the
       hoppin', and the bippin', and the boppin', so they don't know
       what the jazz...is all about!  You see, jazz is like the Jello
       Pudding Pop -- no, actually, it's more like Kodak film -- no,
       actually, jazz is like the New Coke: it'll be around forever, heh
       heh heh.
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The Paranoid Style in American Music

Google wishes Dizzy Gillespie a happy 93rd

The current issue of New Yorker has a fascinating tracing of the paranoid, anti-government strain of the Tea Party and Glenn Beck cohort to its roots in 1950s anti-communist paranoia, especially the infamous John Birch Society. A highly suggested read.

But, pathetically, what most caught my imagination was not the historical or political import, but this tidbit: “Trumpeter [Dizzy Gillespie], whose actual name was John Birks Gillespie, made a humorous run for the Presidency in 1964, organizing John Birks Societies in twenty-five states.” According to Indiana Public Media,

[Gillespie] said that he would rename the White House “the Blues House” and proposed a presidential cabinet with Duke Ellington as minister of state, Max Roach as minister of defense, Charles Mingus as minister of peace (“because he’ll take a piece of your head faster than anyone I know”), Peggy Lee as minister of labor, and Miles Davis as the director of the CIA. He also suggested having racist Mississippi governor Ross Barnett serve as U.S. Information Agency director in the Congo and earmarked Alabama governor George Wallace for deportation to Vietnam. Black Muslim leader Malcolm X was to be appointed as Attorney General, “because he’s one cat we definitely want to have on our side.”

Sounds pretty good to me, at least better than Goldwater. As does his campaign song, “Vote Dizzy,” a remake of the classic “Hot Peanuts,” with vocals by Jon Hendricks, from the 1963 Newport live disc, Dizzy for President. Especially fitting that this would all come together today, on what would be Dizzy’s 93rd birthday. Google Doodle and all.

Dizzy Gillespie, “Vote Dizzy (Salt Peanuts”) [Buy]

Bob Dylan, communist co-conspirator

Bob Dylan also joined the anti-Birch wagon, producing a somewhat middling song called “Talkin’ John Birch Paranoid Blues.” “Talkin'” was an improvisational blues style developed by Woody Guthrie (see “Talking Fish Blues“), that Dylan used in other songs to better effect (“Talking World War III Blues,” “Talking Bear Mountain Picnic Massacre”). But “John Birch” itself has an interesting back story. Originally slated for release on Dylan’s sophomore effort, The Freewheelin’ Bob Dylan, CBS objected, possibly as a response to Dylan attempting to play it on Ed Sullivan. “John Birch” and three other songs (including the fallout shelter themed “Let Me Die In My Footsteps”) were dropped from the record. Dylan, although crushed, instead included “Girl from the North Country”, “Masters of War”, “Talkin’ World War III Blues”, and “Bob Dylan’s Dream.” Given that the first two are undeniable and major classic (see NoiseNarcs’ take on Jim Hall and Bill Frissel’s version of “Masters of War”) and that the other two are excellent, we at Noise Narcs are forced to take a Birchian view and conclude that CBS colluded with Dylan under the guise of censorship to further his communist plot of changing popular music forever. Very clever, you communist pinkos, very clever. Not so clever is the way they tip their hand with this week’s release of Dylan’s The Witmark Demos: 1962-1964, which reveals their plot by including “Talkin’ John Birch Blues” and a slew of early Dylan demos.

Bob Dylan, “Talkin’ John Birch Paranoid Blues” [Buy]

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Monday Music: the Portuguese edition

Let others take up my madness
And all that went with it.
Without madness what is man
But a healthy beast,
A postponed corpse that breeds?

-from “Sebastian, King of Portugal”
by Fernando Pessoa (Richard Zenith, trans.)

I have three tracks to share with you on this rainy monday (it’s rainy where I am).  Each from a different continent, they all have in common the Portuguese language, a tongue well-suited to song, unlike our coarse Germanic talk.

"Fado," by Jose Malhoa (1910)

The first, a classic example of the Portuguese fado, was recorded in Mozambique somewhere around 1955 or 1956, during the reign of Portugal’s imperialistic Estado Novo.  It is one of the earliest known recordings of Joao Maria Tudella, who would go on to become an internationally touring fado singer in the following decade.  He is accompanied by Alves Martins and the famous Antonio Fonseca on Spanish and Portuguese guitars.

Joao Maria Tudella, “Cancao do Mar” [via ElectricJive]

The next track was recorded in 1971 in Paris by Brazilian Bossa Nova singer Nara Leão.  In marked contrast to the violent political turmoil of the preceding decade in Brazil, “Insensatez,” off Dez Anos Depois (“10 years after”), is practically Tylenol in song form.  It is one of my favorite bossa nova tracks and exemplifies for me the sleepy melancholic characteristics of the genre.

Nara Leão, “Insensatez” [Amazon]

The final track I submit to you closes the debut solo album of Portland, Oregon-born jazz bassist/singer Esperanza Spalding [myspace].  Only 24 years old at the time of this recording, she was selected by President Obama to perform at the Nobel prize ceremony in Oslo at the end of 2009 and has not surprisingly been receiving quite a bit of critical attention since that time.  Her sophomore effort, Chamber Music Society (2010) [Amazon], is also excellent.  Niño Josele joins her on “Samba em Preludio,” playing flamenco guitar.

Esperanza Spalding, “Samba Em Preludio” [Amazon]

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Herman Leonard (3/6/1923 – 8/14/2010)

Herman Leonard, originally from Allentown, PA, was one of those photographers who helped make jazz “the epitome of cool.”  He shot this awesome photo of Billie Holiday cooking a steak for her dog.

Check out some of his other photographs at The Morning Call and Time [update: and Slate].

Billie Holiday, “Gee Baby, Ain’t I Good To You”

[Buy The Complete Billie Holiday On Verve, 1945-1959 Box Set]

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Nina Simone answers with a rich girl

On Thursday, I made the claim that Nina Simone, despite her unwavering brilliance, would not be a wise choice for Hot Tub Rock Show time machine shows.

Nina Simone? You’re gonna take a chance on one of her notorious flipouts?

And then I run across this live version of Hall & Oates’ “Rich Girl.” Which destroys the version from Baltimore in every way.

Yum yum yum. Crow sandwich. So delicious. Thanks for bringing it back to Philly, Nina.

Nina Simone, “Rich Girl (live, London, UK, 12/1972) [via Asian Dan via Philebrity]

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Do you like beer? Do you like food? You'll like Musikfest.

Then-candidate Obama at the Bethlehem Brew Works in April 2008.

As a resident of Bethlehem, PA, I had yet to make a post in the “Where You’re From” category.  It’s not that there is no music scene here, of course.  There are loads of live music venues and a number of universities that draw touring bands, but our close proximity to both Philadelphia and New York results in most of the quality local acts migrating out of the Lehigh Valley.

But given that it’s Musikfest, the 10 days in every August when the population of the Lehigh Valley converges on the streets of downtown Bethlehem and police look the other way as we drink lots of beer, spend too much on food, and enjoy hours and hours of free music, I feel obliged to make a post.

If you were actually planning on making your way to the Christmas City this weekend, I recommend these guides by The El Vee and Lehigh Valley with Love.  I’ll assume instead that you’ve never heard of Musikfest and let a quick outline suffice.

As a fire needs heat, fuel, and oxygen to ignite, Musikfest requires, in ascending order of importance: music, food, and beer.

Beer: We drink our beer out of 24 oz. Musikfest mugs.  They cost $9 this year ($12 for the ones that have blinking lights built into them), but you don’t need to buy a new one each year.  So you can tell who’s been coming to Musikfest for the longest time by the style of mug they’re carrying.  Bourbon street rules temporarily go into effect and we drink our beer outside, on the sidewalks, streets and under bridges.  Despite the best efforts of the Pennsylvania Liquor Control Board, likely the most dickheaded Liquor Control Board in the country, the best place to get your mug filled if you’re a beer snob like me is in a local bar instead of at a tent, where you’ll have to use Musikfest tickets to pay $6 for an MGD, not that there’s anything wrong with that.  I recommend the Bethlehem Brew Works (who are apparently also selling half gallon growlers with sweet carrying pouches this year, what?) or the Starfish Brasserie, which currently has Stone IPA on tap.

Morning Call blogger Bill White knows a thing or two about the food at Musikfest.

Food: The food is really good and ranges from a pickle-on-a-stick and German sausage to Hogar Crea kabobs and Kenyan masala wraps, reflecting both the diversity and the appetites of the Lehigh Valley.

Music: You will hear some polka music at Musikfest; that is a given.  You will probably dance to it.  Apart from that, however, there are two basic kinds of concert at Musikfest, the nightly big-name concert that you must buy tickets for and the free concerts that set up everywhere else.  Of that first variety, the groups are usually selected to appeal to children and their parents (and their parents).  This year’s big draw is Adam Lambert, but Norah Jones, Counting Crows, Martina McBride, some incarnation of Lynyrd Skynyrd and some incarnation of Sublime were/are making an appearance.  I usually don’t make it to these concerts, but several years ago I made it to Alice Cooper and it was unconditionally awesome.

Of the second variety, you can see this years full schedule here, but it’s a mixed bag.  Folk, jazz, and rock are usually pretty well represented though not by their most glamorous or talented representatives.  The Red Elvises (Russian surf-rock) and Los Straitjackets are perennial favorites. One corner of Main Street features Native American music and dance.  This year the Wildflower Cafe, a delicious vegetarian live-music venue on Bethlehem’s Southside, put together an interesting lineup that included Emily and the Similars and this jazz/blues cellist named Trevor Exter.  You can usually find at least a few acts that will surprise you by being good.

Things Musikfest doesn’t need, but has:

  • born-again assholes!
  • some weirdo who wears a bird mask and travels around with a medieval 4-ton church bell piano thing called a “carillon” playing music that is like Christmas but way scary!
  • human/police-horse altercations!
  • go-karts!
  • fireworks!
  • arts and crafts to buy! for example, leather belts and candles!
  • platzes! (the various stages/areas of Musikfest are given names like Americaplatz, Festplatz, Volksplatz, Lyrikplatz, etc.  “platz” is German for “place”)

Seriously, it’s a good time.

The Andrews Sisters, “Pennsylvania Polka”

Norah Jones, “It’s Gonna Be”

Trevor Exter, “One Too Many Goodbyes”

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