Born in Hoboken, New Jersey, to Italian immigrants, Sinatra began his musical career in the swing era with bandleaders Harry James and Tommy Dorsey. Sinatra found success as a solo artist after he signed with Columbia Records in 1943, becoming the idol of the "bobby soxers". He released his debut album, The Voice of Frank Sinatra, in 1946. Sinatra's professional career had stalled by the early 1950s, and he turned to Las Vegas, where he became one of its best known residency performers as part of The Rat Pack. His career was reborn in 1953 with the success of From Here to Eternity, with his performance subsequently winning an Academy Award and Golden Globe Award for Best Supporting Actor. Sinatra released several critically lauded albums, including In the Wee Small Hours (1955), Songs for Swingin' Lovers! (1956), Come Fly with Me (1958), Only the Lonely (1958) and Nice 'n' Easy (1960).
Sinatra left Capitol in 1960 to start his own record label, Reprise Records, and released a string of successful albums. In 1965, he recorded the retrospective September of My Years, starred in the Emmy-winning television special Frank Sinatra: A Man and His Music, and released the tracks "Strangers in the Night" and "My Way". After releasing Sinatra at the Sands, recorded at the Sands Hotel and Casino in Vegas with frequent collaborator Count Basie in early 1966, the following year he recorded one of his most famous collaborations with Tom Jobim, the album Francis Albert Sinatra & Antonio Carlos Jobim. It was followed by 1968's collaboration with Duke Ellington. Sinatra retired for the first time in 1971, but came out of retirement two years later and recorded several albums and resumed performing at Caesars Palace, and reached success in 1980 with "New York, New York". Using his Las Vegas shows as a home base, he toured both within the United States and internationally until a short time before his death in 1998.
Sinatra forged a highly successful career as a film actor. After winning an Academy Award for From Here to Eternity, he starred in The Man with the Golden Arm (1955), and received critical acclaim for his performance in The Manchurian Candidate (1962). He appeared in various musicals such as On the Town (1949), Guys and Dolls (1955), High Society (1956), and Pal Joey (1957), winning another Golden Globe for the latter. Toward the end of his career, he became associated with playing detectives, including the title character in Tony Rome (1967). Sinatra would later receive the Golden Globe Cecil B. DeMille Award in 1971. On television, The Frank Sinatra Show began on ABC in 1950, and he continued to make appearances on television throughout the 1950s and 1960s. Sinatra was also heavily involved with politics from the mid-1940s, and actively campaigned for presidents such as Harry S. Truman, John F. Kennedy and Ronald Reagan, though before Kennedy's death Sinatra's alleged Mafia connections led to his being snubbed.
While Sinatra never formally learned how to read music, he had an impressive understanding of it, and he worked very hard from a young age to improve his abilities in all aspects of music. A perfectionist, renowned for his dress sense and performing presence, he always insisted on recording live with his band. His bright blue eyes earned him the popular nickname "Ol' Blue Eyes". Sinatra led a colorful personal life, and was often involved in turbulent affairs with women, such as with his second wife Ava Gardner. He went on to marry Mia Farrow in 1966 and Barbara Marx in 1976. Sinatra had several violent confrontations, usually with journalists he felt had crossed him, or work bosses with whom he had disagreements. He was honored at the Kennedy Center Honors in 1983, was awarded the Presidential Medal of Freedom by Ronald Reagan in 1985, and the Congressional Gold Medal in 1997. Sinatra was also the recipient of eleven Grammy Awards, including the Grammy Trustees Award, Grammy Legend Award and the Grammy Lifetime Achievement Award. After his death, American music critic Robert Christgau called him "the greatest singer of the 20th century", and he continues to be seen as an iconic figure.
Sinatra died with his wife at his side at Cedars-Sinai Medical Center in Los Angeles on May 14, 1998, aged 82, after a heart attack. Sinatra had ill health during the last few years of his life, and was frequently hospitalized for heart and breathing problems, high blood pressure, pneumonia and bladder cancer. He was further diagnosed as having dementia. He had made no public appearances following a heart attack in February 1997. Sinatra's wife encouraged him to "fight" while attempts were made to stabilize him, and his final words were, "I'm losing." Sinatra's daughter, Tina, later wrote that she and her sister, Nancy, had not been notified of their father's final hospitalization, and it was her belief that "the omission was deliberate. Barbara would be the grieving widow alone at her husband's side." The night after Sinatra's death, the lights on the Empire State Building in New York City were turned blue, the lights at the Las Vegas Strip were dimmed in his honor, and the casinos stopped spinning for a minute.
Sinatra's funeral was held at the Roman Catholic Church of the Good Shepherd in Beverly Hills, California, on May 20, 1998, with 400 mourners in attendance and thousands of fans outside. Gregory Peck, Tony Bennett, and Sinatra's son, Frank Jr., addressed the mourners, who included many notable people from film and entertainment. Sinatra was buried in a blue business suit with mementos from family members—cherry-flavored Life Savers, Tootsie Rolls, a bottle of Jack Daniel's, a pack of Camel cigarettes, a Zippo lighter, stuffed toys, a dog biscuit, and a roll of dimes that he always carried—next to his parents in section B-8 of Desert Memorial Park in Cathedral City, California.
His close friends Jilly Rizzo and Jimmy Van Heusen are buried nearby. The words "The Best Is Yet to Come", plus "Beloved Husband & Father" are imprinted on Sinatra's grave marker. Significant increases in recording sales worldwide were reported by Billboard in the month of his death.
You're the Top
Frank Sinatra Lyrics
Jump to: Overall Meaning ↴ Line by Line Meaning ↴
That I always have found it best,
Instead of getting 'em off my chest,
To let 'em rest unexpressed,
I hate parading my serenading
As I'll probably miss a bar,
But if this ditty is not so pretty
At least it'll tell you
You're the top!
You're the Coliseum.
You're the top!
You're the Louver Museum.
You're a melody from a symphony by Strauss
You're a Bendel bonnet,
A Shakespeare's sonnet,
You're Mickey Mouse.
You're the Nile,
You're the Tower of Pisa,
You're the smile on the Mona Lisa
I'm a worthless check, a total wreck, a flop,
But if, baby, I'm the bottom you're the top!
Your words poetic are not pathetic.
On the other hand, babe, you shine,
And I can feel after every line
A thrill divine
Down my spine.
Now gifted humans like Vincent Youmans
Might think that your song is bad,
But I got a notion
I'll second the motion
And this is what I'm going to add;
You're the top!
You're Mahatma Gandhi.
You're the top!
You're Napoleon Brandy.
You're the purple light
Of a summer night in Spain,
You're the National Gallery
You're Garbo's salary,
You're cellophane.
You're sublime,
You're turkey dinner,
You're the time, the time of a Derby winner
I'm a toy balloon that's fated soon to pop
But if, baby, I'm the bottom,
You're the top!
You're the top!
You're an arrow collar
You're the top!
You're a Coolidge dollar,
You're the nimble tread
Of the feet of Fred Astaire,
You're an O'Neill drama,
You're Whistler's mama!
You're camembert.
You're a rose,
You're Inferno's Dante,
You're the nose
On the great Durante.
I'm just in a way,
As the French would say, "de trop".
But if, baby, I'm the bottom,
You're the top!
You're the top!
You're a dance in Bali.
You're the top!
You're a hot tamale.
You're an angel, you,
Simply too, too, too diveen,
You're a Boticcelli,
You're Keats,
You're Shelly!
You're Ovaltine!
You're a boom,
You're the dam at Boulder,
You're the moon,
Over Mae West's shoulder,
I'm the nominee of the G.O.P.
Or GOP!
But if, baby, I'm the bottom,
You're the top!
You're the top!
You're a Waldorf salad.
You're the top!
You're a Berlin ballad.
You're the boats that glide
On the sleepy Zuider Zee,
You're an old Dutch master,
You're Lady Astor,
You're broccoli!
You're romance,
You're the steppes of Russia,
You're the pants, on a Roxy usher,
I'm a broken doll, a fol-de-rol, a blop,
But if, baby, I'm the bottom,
You're the top!
In Frank Sinatra's song "You're the Top," the singer talks about their own inadequacy in expressing themselves in poetic language, but then proceeds to shower their subject with effusive praise. The singer compares their love interest to famous landmarks, works of art, and historical figures, saying that they are like the Coliseum, the Mona Lisa, Mahatma Gandhi, and even Ovaltine. The lyrics emphasize the subject's greatness and claim that they are the top of everything and anything conceivable.
The song seems to be a lighthearted, playful ode to someone the singer loves. However, it also underscores the singer's own feelings of insecurity and self-deprecation. Even though they describe their subject as the top of everything, the singer calls themselves "a worthless check, a total wreck, a flop." The contrast adds to the longing and vulnerability expressed in the song.
Overall, "You're the Top" presents a mix of joyful appreciation and introspective reflection. The lyrics are witty and clever, with cultural references ranging from Shakespeare to Roxy ushers, making the song a playful tribute to someone who seems to inspire the singer's fondness and admiration.
Line by Line Meaning
At words poetic, I'm so pathetic
That I always have found it best,
Instead of getting 'em off my chest,
To let 'em rest unexpressed,
I hate parading my serenading
As I'll probably miss a bar,
But if this ditty is not so pretty
At least it'll tell you
How great you are.
I'm not good with expressing myself through poetry, so I tend to keep my feelings to myself. I don't like showing off my singing skills because I'm likely to make mistakes. However, even if this song isn't perfect, it's still a way for me to tell you how amazing you truly are.
You're the top!
You're the Coliseum.
You're the top!
You're the Louver Museum.
You're a melody from a symphony by Strauss
You're a Bendel bonnet,
A Shakespeare's sonnet,
You're Mickey Mouse.
You're the Nile,
You're the Tower of Pisa,
You're the smile on the Mona Lisa
I'm a worthless check, a total wreck, a flop,
But if, baby, I'm the bottom you're the top!
You're the best of the best, the most amazing things out there. You're like the Coliseum and the Louvre Museum, well known, admired, and respected. Your beauty and grace are like a melody from a symphony by Strauss, and you're like the iconic Bendel bonnet or Shakespeare's sonnet. You're even like Mickey Mouse! You're just as impressive as the Nile and Tower of Pisa and as captivating as the smile on the Mona Lisa. Compared to you, I'm insignificant and flawed, but if I'm the lowest, you are definitely the highest.
Your words poetic are not pathetic.
On the other hand, babe, you shine,
And I can feel after every line
A thrill divine
Down my spine.
Now gifted humans like Vincent Youmans
Might think that your song is bad,
But I got a notion
I'll second the motion
And this is what I'm going to add;
Your poetry is absolutely splendid - far from pathetic. I'm in awe of the way you convey your emotions and feelings through your words. Each line leaves me feeling more and more amazed, sending shivers down my spine. Even someone like Vincent Youmans might not appreciate it, but I fully endorse it, and this is my way of saying it out loud.
You're the top!
You're Mahatma Gandhi.
You're the top!
You're Napoleon Brandy.
You're the purple light
Of a summer night in Spain,
You're the National Gallery
You're Garbo's salary,
You're cellophane.
You're sublime,
You're turkey dinner,
You're the time, the time of a Derby winner
I'm a toy balloon that's fated soon to pop
But if, baby, I'm the bottom,
You're the top!
You're simply the best, whether it's as great as Mahatma Gandhi or luxury brandy like Napoleon. You're like the mesmerizing violet light of a Spanish summer night and the world-renowned National Gallery. You're even like an actress' astronomical salary or see-through cellophane. You're majestic like Sublime, decadent like a turkey dinner, and even like the perfect timing of a Derby winner. I compare myself to a toy balloon that's bound to burst soon, but you're like the top, the greatest thing out there.
You're the top!
You're an arrow collar
You're the top!
You're a Coolidge dollar,
You're the nimble tread
Of the feet of Fred Astaire,
You're an O'Neill drama,
You're Whistler's mama!
You're camembert.
You're a rose,
You're Inferno's Dante,
You're the nose
On the great Durante.
I'm just in a way,
As the French would say, "de trop".
But if, baby, I'm the bottom,
You're the top!
You're like a fancy arrow collar or the highly desired Coolidge dollar. You're as graceful and precise as the nimble footsteps of Fred Astaire, and you're like a captivating play. You're even like the notorious Whistler's mom and the sophisticated camembert cheese. You're like a beautiful rose or Inferno's Dante, and you possess the distinct nose of Durante. I feel like I'm just in the way, an unnecessary addition, as the French would say, "de trop." But if I'm the bottom, you are, without a doubt, the top.
You're the top!
You're a dance in Bali.
You're the top!
You're a hot tamale.
You're an angel, you,
Simply too, too, too diveen,
You're a Boticcelli,
You're Keats,
You're Shelly!
You're Ovaltine!
You're a boom,
You're the dam at Boulder,
You're the moon,
Over Mae West's shoulder,
I'm the nominee of the G.O.P.
Or GOP!
But if, baby, I'm the bottom,
You're the top!
You're just like a beautiful dance in Bali and a spicy hot tamale. You're an angel, far too magnificent and extraordinary. You're like Botticelli's art, poets such as John Keats and Percy Shelley, the comforting drink of Ovaltine. You're even like a tremendous explosion, the awe-inspiring dam at Boulder, and the moon glistening over Mae West's shoulder. On the other hand, I'm just a nominee for the GOP, but even so, I know for sure that you're the top.
You're the top!
You're a Waldorf salad.
You're the top!
You're a Berlin ballad.
You're the boats that glide
On the sleepy Zuider Zee,
You're an old Dutch master,
You're Lady Astor,
You're broccoli!
You're romance,
You're the steppes of Russia,
You're the pants, on a Roxy usher,
I'm a broken doll, a fol-de-rol, a blop,
But if, baby, I'm the bottom,
You're the top!
You're like a fancy Waldorf salad or a sentimental Berlin ballad. You're like the rhythmic boats gliding on the calm Zuider Zee and an accomplished Dutch master. You're even like a literary figure like Lady Astor or humble broccoli. You're all about romance, sweeping as the vast steppes of Russia or as trivial, yet essential, as the pants a Roxy usher wears. I feel like I'm just a discarded or broken doll, a nonsensical joke, a failure, but if I'm the bottom, then you, my dear, are the top.
Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.
Written by: COLE PORTER
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
Mike
on The Lady Is A Champ
She gets too hungry for dinner at eight
She can't eat late and stay up all night, because unlike society types, she has to get up in the morning.
She likes the theatre and never comes late
She cares more about seeing the play than being seen making an entrance.
She never bothers with people she'd hate
Her friends are friends, not social trophies.
Doesn't like crap games with barons or earls
While barrns and earls probably don't play craps, she associates with friends, not people to be seen with.
Won't go to Harlem in ermine and pearls
She doesn't "slum", the practice of the rich in the 30's, when the song was written, of touring poor neighborhoods dressed in rich clothes to "tut, tut" about the deplorable conditions, and congratulate each other for "caring about the poor"
Won't dish the dirt with the rest of the girls
Doesn't trade gossip for acceptance among an in-crowd
She likes the free, fresh wind in her hair
She cares more about how her hair feels than conforming with current hair fashions
Hates California, it's cold and it's damp
Since most of California is noticeably warmer and / or drier than New York, where the play the song was written for is set, this is probably a facetious excuse to like what she likes.
And she won't go to Harlem in Lincoln's or Ford's
Another reference to slumming, but facetious, since Lincolns and Fords were middle-class, not luxury brands when the lyric was written
Anonymous
on Try a Little Tenderness
Here are the correct lyrics
Try A Little Tenderness - Frank Sinatra - Lyrics
Oh she may be weary
Women do get wearied
Wearing that same old shabby dress
And when she’s weary
You try a little tenderness
You know she’s waiting
Just anticipating things she’ll may never possess
While she is without them
Try just a little bit of tenderness
It’s not just sentimental
She has her grieve and her care
And the words that soft and gentle
Makes it easier to bear
You wont regret it
Women don't forget it
Love is their whole happiness
And it’s all so easy
Try a little tenderness
Musical Interlude
And, it’s all so easy
Try a little tenderness
Daniel
on The Way You Look Tonight
I met Frank Jr. in Las Vegas, a real gentleman. RIP you both.
Giorgi Khutashvili
on Theme from New York, New York
)))