Bobby Cole (1932-1996) was suggested as an overlooked Jazz performer by Dave in his comment from the Gene McDaniel's post a couple weeks ago. Cole had a reputation for being a self destructive hard ass not to mention a serious drinking problem. Consequently, I'm quite fond of him.
Cole was hired by Judy Garland for her TV series after the executive producer fired the musical arranger, Mel Torme. There were rumors Cole and Garland had an affair. Check out this clip from the show and you just might see it.
'Poor Butterfly' condenses into a four minutes exactly what my childhood thought it meant be an adult. My Ex was fond of saying my idea of being an adult was booze, Playboy magazine, cigarettes and big breasts. But somewhere deep inside was a connection to a style of music that, while it certainly has, "booze, Playboy, cigarettes and breasts…" it also offers quiet intelligence, reflection and in the end, a home that is all about Growing Old.
(accompanied by Bobby Cole)
A friend of Mr. Cole remembers his friend on the blog Ill Folks. It's loaded with remembrances and unique demos. It's also very funny. Fuck the Grammys -- I'm spending tonight with Ill Folks & Bobby.
The Omen
When daylight was still sleeping under the sea
And a few lingering stars in the heavens shone
Up from her pillow rose the blushing bride to be
It was the last time she was to sleep alone
Twas a handsome youth she buried her heart and her soul in
and she vowed to make the last tide just before noon
and it's been said that once the heart of a maid is stolen
the maiden herself will steal after it soon
She looked in the glass which few women miss
In which all women find time for a sly glance or two
A young butterfly fresh from a night flower's kiss
Flew between her and the mirror shading her view
Enraged at the insect for hiding her graces
She brushed him aside, and he fell, never to rise
Ah, said the girl, such is the pride of our faces
For which the soul's beauty and innocence too often die
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