Issue #196

A Bit of Ribbon-Tying

Every so often, I’ll click on the “Discovery” playlist on Apple Music, which uses its algorithmic information to try to find songs I might like. It’s an interesting feature generally, but deeply flawed for me: I listen to so much stuff on disc (particularly film music, which is so poorly represented on streaming services), and use streaming as more of a “fill in the gaps” sort of thing, which creates a skewed view of what I like. Still, the algorithm does the best it can with the information it has, and sometimes it tosses me something that makes me go, “Oh hey, I like this, I should listen to more of it.”

I was listening to the Discovery playlist over the weekend, while running errands with Alfred. In recent weeks I’ve been spending some time with Bruce Springsteen’s Tracks II: The Lost Albums — essentially seven “new” Springsteen albums assembled from unreleased tracks recorded between 1983 and 2018 — and so, the algorithm was giving me lots of rugged singer-songwriters with guitars. John Prine, Tom Waits, Tom Petty, Bob Dylan… you know, those guys. And that’s okay, I like those guys. I like a wider variety of things, but when you listen to seven Springsteen albums repeatedly, you get what you get.

In the middle of all of this was a bit of a curveball: “Tie a Yellow Ribbon ‘Round the Ole Oak Tree,” by Tony Orlando and Dawn. I hadn’t heard the song in a while, and the tune brought back a couple of vivid memories.

Memory #1 was from my childhood, when I was learning to play the piano. My mom had a collection of old piano books, and once I could play well enough, I tried my hand at learning some of the songs. One of those songs was “Tie a Yellow Ribbon…,” and the lyrics were included. The story of a man returning home from prison, wondering if the love of his life is still waiting for him. In the letter he writes before his release, he asks her to signify her affections by tying a yellow ribbon around an old oak tree.

I wasn’t good enough to play the song at the speed it needed to be played, so it was slower, and reading the lyrics, I had the idea in my head that it was a deeply melancholy ballad being sung by a deeply sad man. And so I would play it that way, as this mournful thing, like “Red River Valley” or something.

But when I actually heard the song, years later, I was surprised by how “bouncy” it was. Almost chintzy — it feels like a bit of breezy ticky-tacky designed to be included in one of Tony Orlando’s casino gigs, or like they skipped the original instrumentation and went straight to the Muppet Show cover. But the cheapness of the sound doesn’t quite undo it. It effectively masks the fundamental sentimentality of the thing, and the ending — in which the uncertain ex-convict sees a hundred yellow ribbons ‘round the old oak tree, receiving assurance that he is not only still loved, but loved with profound enthusiasm — sort of catches you off guard.

Memory #2 is from my time at the radio station, when I was producing a show spotlighting big band music, crooners, and so on. The show was hosted by an extraordinarily difficult individual who I did not get along with, but I enjoyed some of the music he played, which was the silver lining of the whole endeavor. His favorite artist was Frank Sinatra, who was featured at least once an hour during every three-hour show, and one of the songs he kept in the rotation was Sinatra’s cover of “Tie a Yellow Ribbon ‘Round the Ole Oak Tree.”

That one is from a 1974 Sinatra album called “Some Nice Things I’ve Missed,” released after he ended his brief retirement between 1971 and 1973. As the title suggests, he’s covering some more contemporary pop hits of the day like “Sweet Caroline,” “You Are the Sunshine of My Life,” and “Bad Bad Leroy Brown.” The album’s most defining trait is how Dean Martin-y it sounds: more often than not, Sinatra seems a little sloshed. And hey, why not? When you’re Frank Sinatra, and your record label has nudged you into covering Tony Orlando, maybe a little Jack Daniels helps.

As you would expect, the Sinatra arrangement is considerably less cheap-sounding, as he gives it the full band treatment. And his phrasing, as usual, is extraordinary: he never lands exactly where you expect him to land, and where he lands always seems like exactly the right spot. Whatever you think of him, there’s nobody better than Sinatra at what Sinatra does.

But then he gets to the end of the song, and he fumbles the whole thing in spectacular fashion. The conclusion of the song is meant as a moment of astonishment and gratitude, but Sinatra plays it as an inevitability. “Looky here,” he crows with self-satisfaction, “The whole damn bus is cheering / and I can’t believe I see / 100 yellow ribbons ‘round the old oak tree.” On the bus line, he inserts the corny sound effect of the whole bus cheering. And when he says he can’t believe what he sees, well, you don’t buy it. He’s drunkenly bellowing too early, too triumphantly, getting the win he always expected. You aren’t cheering for him, because he’s cheering for himself. It’s a cover by the Sinatra of “My Way” and “That’s Life,” not the Sinatra of “Summer Wind” and “Just One of Those Nights.” And that’s the wrong Sinatra for this song.

Anyway, I heard that song multiple times a week for over a year, and by the end of that year I was done with it. Enough of that guy and his whole damn cheering bus. He probably ran off with a cocktail waitress seven months later, and made what’s-her-name wish she hadn’t spent half a week’s pay on yellow ribbons.

So, when the Tony Orlando & Dawn version popped up on my playlist, my first instinct was to skip it, because ugh, that song again. However, realizing that it wasn’t the Sinatra cover, but the original, I let it go. And then, when it got to the end, I was surprised anew by how moving I found the song. Even with that rinky-dink electric piano. Because when Orlando says “the whole damn bus is cheering / and I can’t believe I see…” he says it with actual surprise. And suddenly, the song has its soul back.

Orlando performed the song again at Donald Trump’s inaugural ball in 2017. And in that performance, he followed Sinatra’s lead and blew the ending. When he reaches that crucial point, he alters the lyrics: “Now the whole place is cheering / and they can’t believe they see…” he says. I suppose the “damn” was cut out of respect for the occasion, which makes a lot of sense, given the president’s penchant for restrained and tasteful language. Orlando pauses here, pointing to the crowd, and inviting them to cheer. But it’s the other alteration that matters more: “and they can’t believe they see” is a whole different thing than “and I can’t believe I see,” because it’s everyone else who is astonished, not the singer. In this reading, the singer is getting what he always expected to get. Orlando wraps it up in Trumpian fashion, riffing “We gonna tie / those beautiful ribbons / those beautiful ribbons / oh yeah, oh yeah,” and the whole thing becomes the bit of disposable ephemera I suppose it was always intended to be.

Of course, when you perform a song a billion times, it often loses something in the process. Elton John’s “Your Song” is such an affecting little pop gem, and a big part of it is the sincerity in his voice, and the offhand earnestness with which he delivers the lines. He performs it at nearly every concert, and it’s still a nice song, but it’s not the same thing. It’s a dutiful performance of a beloved hit. And I’m sure that’s what happened with the Orlando song over the years, too.

But maybe I’m hearing something that isn’t really supposed to be there there. Maybe if I hadn’t first misinterpreted it on piano as a tender ballad, maybe I wouldn’t even notice what seems to be missing. Anyway, there’s my Discovery Playlist discovery.

Back at ya later

P.S. I’ll be taking the next couple of weeks off, as we have some big family events coming up and I need to clear the docket a bit. Wishing you all a pleasant November/Thanksgiving/National Homemade Bread Day/Etc.

P.P.S. After writing this, I poked around a little, listening to other covers, trying to see how many of them worked. Wouldn’t you know it, Dean Martin did one — with a bit of country & western flair — and sounfads less toasted than Sinatra. And sure enough, he handles the ending exactly right. Cheers, Dino.