Mar 17 2025 6 mins
From the first moment I heard this ditty, it became my theme song. I learned to play it - (in a far cruder fashion than Ry, of course) and worked it into my set list. Just like the character Bill in the narrative, - (my name, btw) - my reprobate ways had also been domesticated by love. And, another harmonic convergence: I had even spent a year in Louisville, Kentucky.
Jack Yellen, the Jewish-Polish immigrant who wrote these Jazz-age lyrics, also penned Happy Days are Here Again, and Ain’t She Sweet. If he had only created these three songs, his oeuvre would have been impressive. His art was another example, like that of Irving Berlin and the Gershwins, of the affinity young Jewish musicians expressed for black culture. And, like the Semitic moguls of old Hollywood - they became reflectors of America’s aspirational self-image.
Ry Cooder’s Jazz album was not exactly an anomaly - he has always been a musical archeologist, but on this collection he strove for unparalleled authenticity. Check out his jaw dropping rendition of Bix Beiderbecke’s In A Mist. Sublime. He’s a national treasure, and if the jaunty swing-time on this number doesn’t get your feet tapping - check your pulse - you might be dead.