“Love is Here to Stay”

The smoky little piano intro. The lilting but emphatic beats Sinatra lays on the words “But. Oh. My. Dear.” The sweet, sane heresy of “The radio, and the telephone, and the movies that we know/May just be passing fancies, and in time may go”. The spirit of a bygone New York hovering over the song. Its spot on one of the greatest albums in all Christendom. And because it’s the last melody that George Gershwin ever completed.

That’s why I love this song—

(And in the middle of my little Sinatra wallow this morning, I stumbled across this short memoir by Milt Bernhart, the man whose trombone solo in “I’ve Got You Under My Skin” has sent a charge through God knows how many barrooms over the decades. His views of life on the road, 1950 Las Vegas, and Benny Goodman are ones you don’t see every day.)

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