My family didn’t own many long-playing records but we did have The Alamo (1960) soundtrack.  Marty Robbins’ “The Ballad of the Alamo”  was the first song I taught myself and I can still sing it 40-odd years later.  I didn’t see The Alamo until later in life, so Robbins’ recounting of the facts was all I knew of those events, which culminated when Santa Ana reached the wall/And he killed them one and all.  Singing that song to myself at age 10 was my way of processing that national tragedy. 

Another album we had was John Barry’s score for Thunderball (1965), because of its chart-topping theme by Tom Jones, for whom my Mom had a low grade fever.  I learned that song, too, and felt something quite different when I sang it (Any woman he wants, he’ll get/He will break any heart without regret).  Clearly, this Thunderball was a breed apart from Ol’ Davy Crockett – this was a song about sex.  Barry’s arrangement even suggested its own cadence for walking while singing it (surely you could not sing this song standing still)… a kind of laconic, manly stroll I perfected at the bottom of my friend’s pool before I learned that slow motion was an optical and not an aquatic process.  My first soundtrack purchase was the Diamonds Are Forever (1971) score, principally for its brassy title vocal by Shirley Bassey.  With multiple spins, I got the lyrics down and let rip (Men are mere mortals who/Are not worth/Going to your grave for) while walking to school.  I decided that the original singer’s accent should always be preserved and faithfully affected the soft R-sounds of the Cardiff-born Bassey (Men ah meah moatals who ah naut woeth go-eeng to yoah grave foah) while pumping myself higher on the schoolyard swings.  Who knew what my classmates thought, but as I was a year older and 10-20 pounds heavier than any of them, not a word was said. 

It’s funny how a song doesn’t have to be particularly good—and in fact can be eye-wateringly bad—to be included in my mental Wurlitzer.  Years ago I embarrassed myself at a busy midtown Manhattan street corner when She’s a look-errrrrrrrrrr/That’s what they sayyyyy bypassed my shame control and slipped out of my mouth at full volume and in the falsetto of Sue Saad, singer of the theme to the crappy sci-fi thriller Looker (1981).  I did get looks, but no one laughed.  Perhaps they were impressed that the 250 lb. guy in the motorcycle jacket and engineer’s boots could get his voice up that high.  

Last year I gave “It’s Hard Out Here for a Pimp” a try, but it’s really not for a soloist.  No, I’ll stick to my classics.  “Gringo Song” from Gunfight at Red Sands (1963) works best for pushing my daughter’s stroller along trendy 3^rd Street.  Written by Ennio Morricone and sung by the late Peter Tevis, the anthem imparts some important life lessons –Don’t be a fool for a smile or a kiss/Or your bullet might miss/Keep your eye on your goal – that are particularly valuable here in Hollywood.  At 17 months, Vayda has a good ear for music… which she’ll need for singing backup to my goblet-shattering cover of Limahl’s “Theme to The NeverEnding Story.”