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Can anyone sing "Always" in a way that keeps me from saying "never"? Can someone make me think, "OK, sometimes," or at least "just this once"?
This song makes me think of a lovely little book called "Warm Poems for Warm Hearts by a Warm Hearth," handwritten with a quill pen, illustrated in egg tempera, and self-published in a limited edition of five autographed copies by my Aunt Hortense, who took courses in creative writing, painting and calligraphy after my Uncle Gus died and left her wealthy and free to take a lesbian lover and pursue the life of an artist. Unfortunately, these fond associations probably won't make the job of judging these performances any easier.
I struggled to make rhythmic sense out of Pat Boone's performance, but had to give up halfway through even though his voice is nice. Syncopation only works if the beat is clear, and I couldn't find one.
I used to be a Patsy Cline fan, and maybe I still am. She does tend to sound the same from song to song - great voice, same emotional tone - and this one is no exception.
I like Bing normally, but not here. Who's Eugenie?
Aunt Hortense would not like Bobby Darrin. I'm sure of that.
Ella Fitzgerald is really lovely. I'd have been content with the whole song sung straight like the first part, but the mild jazzification isn't offensive.
I totally get what Mandy Patinkin is doing, and it's kind of interesting, but that vibrato, if that's what it is (there probably isn't a term for it) is just too weird. Still, I was so fascinated I had to listen to the end. I was probably swaying like a cobra in a basket, watching a strange dude in a turban play one of those oboes or whatever they're called in Jaipur.
I didn't need to listen to much of Della Reese.
Frank Sinatra? With all that brass? So shallow and vulgar. Very American. Aunt Hortense would be turning in her grave. Uncle Gus would probably like it, but then he would've voted for Trump twice.
Nobody here makes me like this song, but I think Ella makes me dislike it least. Second place goes to Patsy Cline just because I like the sound she makes. Aunt Hortense approves, wherever she ended up (I'm really not sure).
This song makes me think of a lovely little book called "Warm Poems for Warm Hearts by a Warm Hearth," handwritten with a quill pen, illustrated in egg tempera, and self-published in a limited edition of five autographed copies by my Aunt Hortense, who took courses in creative writing, painting and calligraphy after my Uncle Gus died and left her wealthy and free to take a lesbian lover and pursue the life of an artist. Unfortunately, these fond associations probably won't make the job of judging these performances any easier.
I struggled to make rhythmic sense out of Pat Boone's performance, but had to give up halfway through even though his voice is nice. Syncopation only works if the beat is clear, and I couldn't find one.
I used to be a Patsy Cline fan, and maybe I still am. She does tend to sound the same from song to song - great voice, same emotional tone - and this one is no exception.
I like Bing normally, but not here. Who's Eugenie?
Aunt Hortense would not like Bobby Darrin. I'm sure of that.
Ella Fitzgerald is really lovely. I'd have been content with the whole song sung straight like the first part, but the mild jazzification isn't offensive.
I totally get what Mandy Patinkin is doing, and it's kind of interesting, but that vibrato, if that's what it is (there probably isn't a term for it) is just too weird. Still, I was so fascinated I had to listen to the end. I was probably swaying like a cobra in a basket, watching a strange dude in a turban play one of those oboes or whatever they're called in Jaipur.
I didn't need to listen to much of Della Reese.
Frank Sinatra? With all that brass? So shallow and vulgar. Very American. Aunt Hortense would be turning in her grave. Uncle Gus would probably like it, but then he would've voted for Trump twice.
Nobody here makes me like this song, but I think Ella makes me dislike it least. Second place goes to Patsy Cline just because I like the sound she makes. Aunt Hortense approves, wherever she ended up (I'm really not sure).
