CROONING

By Yuhao Chen

As introduced to the popular music industry by early 20^th Century vocal icons like Rudy Vallee and Bing Crosby, crooning supplied the ever-enduring love song with a new vista of social implications. Although the aesthetics of this style have largely receded from popular demand, the character and function of the love song singer and his music has been permanently transformed. Because of crooning, the love song listener has been trained to exclusively appreciate lyrics, the commercial intent of which might be conveniently discredited. Furthermore, it is especially important that the sentiments that are easy to dismiss are precisely those that the singer seems to solicit most emphatically: intimacy, exclusivity, and sincerity.

                  Crooning is most basically distinguished by a soft, low tone, slow melodies, and sentimental lyrics. Although not the first to use the style, Bing Crosby is perhaps the most iconic and long-lasting symbol of crooning’s golden age [1930/40’s]. While performing, a crooner would most typically stand relatively still, wear a helpless or forlorn expression, and hold the microphone very close to his/her mouth. In fact, it was the advent of the microphone and its application in amplification technology that made crooning possible. Previously, a singer in a city club or in a theater would need to project throughout the venue exclusively by means of his physical capacity. This pre-crooning music industry favored powerful singers with a higher range [soprano or tenor]. Of course, these criteria were soon to change.

One must admit, there is a traceable logic; there is something forced in the image of a diaphragmatically well-endowed tenor reeling back and launching the deepest desires of his heart to the back wall of a theater. A more intimate tone would facilitate a more intimate message. But before crediting the crooner, there is also an additional step of causality to consider. Previous songs of love, sung by classically trained vocalists, were more like popularized adaptations from Romantic era opera arias or art songs. The critical difference here is that this latter music has a function within a larger system. It is a plot point, and there is a specific subject towards which our vociferous tenor or soprano sings. The crooner will shift this ration of communication from one-to-one to one-to-many.

When Bing Crosby sings “Everything I have is yours / You’re part of me / Everything I have is yours/ My destiny,” he is addressing both an unknown and likely fictional ‘you’, but also each individual lady currently listening to the song. The closeness of his voice reveals a timbre that, without the aid of amplification, would be inaudible in anything greater than a private setting. Here, the content of the song is mythologized into vague message of sincerity. It is not the basic semantic content of the lyrics, but the physical presentation that creates an effective sense of intimacy.

Closely related, but not necessarily a given condition, the crooner confirms the exclusivity of romantic intent. “I’d be happy to spend my life/ Waiting on your beck and call/ Everything I have is yours/ My life, my all.” Bing makes an indirect promise here, consoling his ambiguous ‘you’ about her complete autonomy over his romantic liaisons, specifically a lack thereof. Notice that it is this feature of exclusivity that simultaneously defines the charm of the song and destroys its sincerity.

Sincerity it is, in fact, that is the final defining feature of the crooner’s song. As if to quickly dismantle any mounting suspicions about his perpetual deference to second-person pronouns, Bing attempts a more tangible pledge: “I would gladly give the sun to you/ If the sun were only mine/ I would gladly give the earth to you/ And the stars that shine.” Despite the bleak prospects of materialization of any of these gifts, it is made very clear that he is trying very hard. But consider the alternative: if something manageable was proposed, the hopeful listener might begin considering the situation with too much scrutiny, and the impossibility of the romance would suddenly become terribly clear. In fact, the entire foundation required in order to merit any sort of emotional response to this song would fall apart.

After all, it is this emotional response that behaves as the currency of a crooner’s song. Just like monetary symbols, there is required a significant degree of faith. To be sure, it is not as if our subjected crooner song audience is at all convinced of the reality of the crooner’s character or any sorts of pledges he might make, but there is a part of the human mind that is eager to play along. A two-player system of value is at work; the crooner does not have control over it, but a unique ability to tickle around its edges. Emotional stimulation, especially when related to romantic or sexual topics, is always an attractive objective. Even negative emotions are of some value; emotions are measured more on a system of absolute value than of gain and loss. In the end, the value is attached to any source of stimulation. Although the crooner might not be able to follow through with any of his promises, he can still be a very effective stimulator.

But here we come to the most important transaction. What does the crooner get in return? Unlike the opera singer, the crooner has the advantage of audience. Surely, the attendee of a private performance of a sincere song sung exclusively for him or herself will place a higher value on the ticket than a random member of a large audience which has come to see someone sing a very passionate love song… to someone else. But this advantage will only work for the crooner if the audience is willing to ignore the commercial intent and decide instead to take advantage of the noncommittal emotional fanfare that the crooner is keen to provide.

Although the crooner is exemplary of this mythological two-player system of the entertainer and entertained, the phenomenon of the love song has not failed to capitalize on the lessons learned from the time of the Great American Songbook. In fact, it seems that in many cases it has simply been a matter of consummating the very same system. In many cases, the music has increased by a few decibel levels, but the same flirtation across the threshold of tangible return and emotional value has continued to prove a locus of prodigious capital.