I find it hard to listen to this record not because of the music, but the overwhelming sound of wear and age. I usually love the affect you get from older vinyl, that crackle like a fireplace or the first hit off a freshly packed bowl. But this is one of the many albums I bought for twenty-five cents at Salvation Army, and Frank Sinatra's smooth melancholy croon is no match for the dust and the scratches.
This is definitely music for a mood. It's lonely, it's blue, it's quiet, and it's perfectly made for this man's voice. Certain pieces of art capture a feeling of an era, like Edward Hopper's Nighthawks, by preserving an ambiance instead of documenting the details. I have no real connection to the 50's beyond what I see in movies but listening to this record fills me with the solitude of that time and place. It probably helps that it's 2 a.m., which I believe qualifies as a "wee" hour. And, now that I think about it, that sound of age doesn't really bother me.
favorite song: "In the Wee Small Hours of the Morning"
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