
The time that Frank Sinatra spent with the swelling violins at Capitol Records was truly fruitful. No One Cares (1959) is among my most favorite albums (and album covers); its unabashed Romanticism, that poses Frank as some kind of White Plains young Werther, is suited-up, but not at all square (as, I'd imagine, the hepsters of the era would have it). The sheer cinema of the sound launches it far into the pop stratosphere, a pre-psychedelic trip, more transportative than any tired old lyric about rabbit holes. Here is the second track, "A Cottage for Sale," listen and enjoy--all is sentiment.
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