"It's All in the Game" hadn't been alone as a standard that had been re-jigged for the rock 'n' roll/R&B era. Connie Francis' "Who's Sorry Now?" had been similarly updated, albeit with much more subtlety. Yet The Platters proved that there was still a place for the simple and classic as a means to make it to number one.
Clearly not everyone agreed with this assessment. While lyricist Otto Harbach is said to have approved of what The Platters had done with "Smoke Gets in Your Eyes", the widow of co-writer and Broadway legend Jerome Kern was so displeased that she threatened to have its release blocked. Perhaps she found the 1958 recording by singer-songwriter Richard Barrett to be objectionable (if that had been the case, she wouldn't have been wrong) or perhaps it had to do with matters I'd rather not speculate on in this space. In any case, it's hard to imagine she heard what The Platters had done with it and then said something like, "no, this will not do!"
While it's natural to assume that the great songs from Broadway's golden age had always been recognized as such, this wasn't always the case. "Smoke Gets in Your Eyes" had originally been part of the 1933 musical-comedy Roberta. (Never heard of it? Me neither) While by no means a flop — it had an initial run on Broadway of over six months and it would soon be adapted into a feature film in Hollywood — it wasn't exactly a runaway smash either. Just another musical at a time when there were hundreds of them. Nevertheless, a good song can't remain hidden away forever. Even as early as 1934, it was already becoming a smash in its own right with a hit cover by the Paul Whiteman Orchestra. Many versions of it would come and go over the years with no one quite making their mark with it. (Charlie Parker's very brief, very scratchy rendition is barely recognizable though I suppose I shouldn't be surprised; no one listens to Bird expecting a faithful note-for-note copy of anything, even a Charlie Parker composition)
It would fall on The Platters to turn it into something really special. Doo-wop music can sometimes go overboard but they keep themselves in check here. In fact, it hardly seems like doo-wop at all. Lead singer Tony Williams (not to be confused with the jazz drummer of the same name) delivers an absolutely spell-binding performance, punching out every ounce of drama possible while managing to avoid sounding overbearing and/or melodramatic. He's so much the focal point that you'd be forgiven for scarcely noticing his fellow Platters. Yeah, they could have taken on a more prominent role but, then again, they were right to stay out of Williams' way. Though I already mentioned above that it was by then a standard, this was likely the point when it fully became one: once an interpretation becomes the one every subsequent rendition is based on is when the term 'standard' really does apply.
The Great American Songbook now seems like a curio. Aside from the likes of "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas" popping up on a holiday release, you don't get much from it anymore. This collection of classic pop songs is so formidable that it presents something of a no win situation for artists attempting to tackle them: stick to close to the standard and you run the risk of squeezing the life from it; stray too far and you'll wind up trivializing an all-time great. This approach can work exceptionally well such as with Willie Nelson's groundbreaking 1978 album Stardust. But stylistic changes ought to be used to service the song and not detract from it. Best leave the rock 'n' roll frills to the rock 'n' roll songs.
Score: 9
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