Currently reading a biography: "Bing Crosby - A Pocketful of Dreams (the Early Years 1903-1940)" by Gary Giddins. Extremely well-written (most musician bios appear to be pasted together by ex-speed freaks with an ax to grind and a serious case of self-promotion) and, though loaded with minutia, flows smoothly. What's the fascination? Crosby's voice and his ability to use it in a seemingly unselfconscious way. He was a musician first, before he became an entertainment icon. Through an absurdly fortuitous series of synchronistic happenstance, he was able to simply be himself (for the most part) and that "being" translated (with the invention and widespread use of radio, film and later, television) into the Twentieth Centurty's first (and by far most influential) pop star. But really, what's the fascination? There appears to be no evidence of any luxurious doubt about his own work. He walks in, someone hands him a sheet of lyrics (he didn't read musical notation) or a set up for a film scene take, and he runs with it, improvising where necessary, feeling the appropriate moments to press down or pull back. Did he worry about what appeared to be practically effortless? And, if he did, did worry drop away the moment the downbeat hit?
Comments