LEGENDARY SINGERS
Perry Como - Album Notes
Robert Jones
TIME-LIFE RECORDS
SLGD-04
MONAURAL
Manufactured by Capitol
Records
1985 Compilation
Few
singers have gone so far with such a gentle disarming voice and
personality as Perry Como. Two generations of television viewers
have been charmed by his pleasantly handsome face and have basked in
the consoling warmth of his lush Mediterranean voice. Wags of the
'50s called him 'the walking Miltown" in tribute to that once-famous
tranquilizer. Not for Como the hard-hitting theatricality of a
Presley or a Tony Bennett, the tough sadness of a Sinatra, the boozy
whimsicality of a Dean Martin. With Como, it has always been calm,
neighbourly manners and an irresistible smoothness that captivated
women as much as it comforted men. Not to speak of his genuinely
beautiful voice and pristine musicianship.
The musicianship took a while,
but the voice was always there: a mellow, sweet-timbered baritone
with easy high notes, an absolutely even vibrato and plenty of
breath to hold it up. As with all star singers, Como's voice is
unique and instantly identifiable. His image is one of masculinity
tempered by tenderness, Como never pushes for volume, nor does he
ever seem to work for effect. He just sings, and the words and
phrases fall into place as only a master musician can make them
fall.
In the early '40s, the years of his first
success, Como's tone never dried out, and his top notes never flew sharp
or sagged flat. Four decades later they still don't. Perry Como in his
early seventies sounds scarily the way he did at 30. How he does it not
even Como professes to know. "as for training," he once said, "perish
the thought. What is there to train? I've never studied singing. I don't
practice. I just open up my mouth at eight o'clock and out it comes ― I
hope."
In fact, it came out with a success beyond his
imaginings. Thirteen gold records decorate his walls (nine singles and
four albums that sold more than 500,000 copies each). His 15-minute TV
offering, The Perry Como Show, in 1955, first aired in 1948,
became the most popular quarter-hour show of all. Then came the
hour-long Saturday night Perry Como Show, in 1955, and in turn was
topped in 1959 by the Perry Como Kraft Music Hall on NBC, a show
that was beamed all over the world.
Como has wowed folks in Japan, England, Scotland
and on the Continent, among other places. When RCA marked its
100-million-record star's 40th year with the company by throwing a big
party in New York, Mayor Ed Koch judged that one day of celebration was
obviously inadequate, and proclaimed Perry Como Week in New York City.
Throughout
his long and steady parade of success, Como has retained his legendary
cool. That laid-back air, though, is not the whole picture. Beneath the
familiar nonchalance lie strong ambition and an ability to work
relentlessly toward a given goal. For this side of his character, Como
has always given credit to his parents, immigrants who came from the
Abruzzi region of Italy in the first decade of the 20th Century with
their six children ― and immediately set about producing seven more. The
future singer was the first of the Como brood born in America, on May
18, 1912, in Canonsburg, Pennsylvania.
Pierino Ronald Como was, in fact, the seventh son
of a seventh son ― long thought to be a lucky, even mystical, formula.
He showed his initiative early: Not liking the idea of toiling in the
Pennsylvania coal pits or as a mill hand like his father ― who at one
time supported his family on $37 a week ― Pierino decided to
become a barber.
At the age of 11, he was apprenticed to a local
barber shop, and he spent the next 10 years cutting hair, going to
school, and playing guitar and trombone in local groups. He often sang
in the shop, imitating such popular singers of the day as Russ Columbo
and Bing Crosby. His customers gave him encouragement , so Como finally
auditioned for Freddy Carlone, a well-known local bandleader, who
offered him a job at $28 a week. Como tried both barbering and singing
until 1933 when he married his childhood sweetheart, Roselle Belline,
and settled on singing as a career. In 1983, while celebrating 50 years
in show business, he and Roselle also celebrated their golden wedding
anniversary.
In 1936, though, it looked as though life was
going to be just a series of one-night gigs with Carlone's band. Then
one evening, when Como was singing at a Warren, Ohio, gambling casino,
in walked Ted Weems, one of the most popular bandleaders in the nation.
Weems won a round at the roulette tables, was in a fine mood and was
mightily impressed with the sounds that were coming from handsome young
Como. As it happened, he needed a singer for his band. When the casino
crowd called on Como for six encores, Weems knew he had found his new
vocalist.
Como joined Weems, but things didn't go too well
at first. Vocally unformed and professionally unskilled, the newcomer
irked critical listeners with his amateurish delivery. One important
Chicago radio station even threatened to stop broadcasting the Weems
band if the young singer did not shape up. Weems sat Como down and made
him listen to some records of his work. "I can't understand what I'm
saying," Como admitted to Weems who later recalled: "I told him he been
endowed with a fine voice and there was no need to embellish it with
vocal tricks. Just open up and sing the words from the heart. From then
on, his enunciation improved, and so did his professional stature."
For a few years Como's career simmered along
nicely under Weems' tutelage, his poise and musicianship growing along
with a sizeable following of fans. But when World War II came
along and Weems's band broke up, Como was prepared to resume his career
as a Canonsburg barber. Then he met Tom Rockwell. a powerful agent; Como
told him he was tired of doing one-night stand and wanted radio and
recording work.
It was a shrewd, or at least a lucky, move,
for the big-band era was fizzling out and the age of the star male
crooners was just beginning. Crosby was already big, a skinny kid
named Frank Sinatra was driving the bobbysoxers wild and Dick Haymes
was up-and-coming. The possibilities seemed limitless for somebody
as romantic looking and smooth sounding as Perry Como. RCA Victor
seemed to think so, and they signed Como to a contract in 1943. So
did 2oth Century-Fox, hoping Como would become a film star.
Como's movie career was pleasant but brief
― he asked for release from his contract in 1947. But his recording
career with RCA was another matter. His first 1943 single,
Goodbye Sue, was a best-seller. In 1945 Como came up with two
blockbusters in a row ― If I Loved You and Till the End of
Time ― and suddenly he made history as the first singer to have
two simultaneous million-plus sellers. Through the rest of the '40s
he assed to his reputation by making new hits from such old songs as
Temptation, Prisoner of Love and When You Were
Sweet Sixteen. In recognition of his genius for turning revivals
into gold, Variety gave him the title "Maker of Songs."
In
the early '50s, the public mood once again began to change. Romantic
crooners slipped in popularity and more strenuous singers like
Johnnie Ray and Frankie Laine became fashionable. Even Sinatra
suffered a career crisis. But not Como. Perry continued much as
before, finding the new medium of television ideally suited to his
intimate, low-key style. Perched on a stool, lounging on a step,
strolling casually around a set in his trademark sweater, Como
became virtually a member of every American household owning a small
screen.
His own family life reflected this public
portrait. Life with Roselle continued blissful, spelled by just
enough disagreements to keep boredom at bay. They raised three
children (two sons and a daughter) in careful privacy, and later
rejoiced in eight grandchildren ― whose hair Grandpa delighted in
cutting.
Como has kept on singing nearly as well as
ever, though not nearly so often. He plays a lot of golf and worries
about his weight (always between 165 and 175 pounds) and has taken
up fishing near his Florida home. He has also made regular
appearances on lavish television specials. In 1983 President Reagan
sent him agolden anniversary telegram: "The singular qualities of
your deep rich voice and nearly effortless styls have made you an
outstanding star of radio, recordings and television." But the best
summing-up of his career came from Como himself. Recalling his first
gig at $28 a week, he had atypcally modest comment: "It was fun. I
had a ball. It got me out of the barbershop."
Original Album Notes
Robert Jones

Produced
for Time-Life Music in cooperation with Capitol Records,
Inc.
Recording
Producer: Michael Brooks.
Remastered
at RCA Studios, New York and half-speed mastered by
Trutone Records, Haworth, New Jersey
Pressings
by Electrosound, Inc., Shelbyville, Indiana.
All
tracks in Monaural
Album
notes by Robert Jones
Original
Compilation 1985.
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