They just don’t make ‘em like they used to. Songs, I mean. Anyone who knows me knows my deep and seemingly insatiable love for all things 1950s – you know, the Rat Pack, Tupperware, fitted skirt-suits, misogyny, pies, McCarthyism and so on. So it should come as no surprise that yesterday I found myself listening to The Very Best of Frank Sinatra Disc 2. When track 12 rolled around, I was reminded of one of the great reasons why I love the era, the tunes and that man so much: Old Blue Eyes could get away with murder as long as there was an orchestra playing behind him and some jazzy slang tossed in for good measure. The particular song to which I am referring is J. Mundy and A. Stillman’s “Don’Cha Go ‘Way Mad.” If you are not familiar you should take a minute to check out the lyrics. Basically the entire song is about how this guy was caught by his lady’s cousin canoodling with someone who was not his la-day. (Yiiiiiiiikes!!) The song is apparently a plea for his lady not to leave him. Now that all sounds fairly reasonable – but it is the actual lyrics and the delivery that really make it truly something at which to marvel. The singer “supposes” that the wronged woman has a reason to be mad. Supposes, people! Supposes!!
I don’t honestly know if anyone else ever really made this little jam famous, but I’ve never heard anyone else sing it, and I just can’t imagine anyone else being able to pull it off the way the Chairman of the Board does. Right at the moment when he mentions how he was caught, there is this genius horn-flair, clearly the musical equivalent to a good ol’ “Uh-Oh!” He plays the whole thing off with true suave adulterous flair – “Hey doll, you’re my one and only, baby! I swear dollface!” Cue Lengthy Embrace & Nuzzle while Franky uses his other hand to dial up Girl #6. What a maaan!