Julie Is Her Name (1955)

More because I encountered people online who were high on Julie London in the era of the D/L, and less because she had once been the wife of Jack Webb, but maybe a little of both, I came to be a fan of Julie London several years after her death in 2000. Oh, I knew the Arthur Hamilton chestnut from the 1950s, “Cry Me a River,” which opens the festivities here. But I associated it with Barbra Streisand, Joe Cocker, and such. You ought to hear Julie London’s version. Her debut LP is about as good as I’ve heard her. “Cry Me a River” was her only hit (#9 in 1955) but it sets the tone for this whole album and baker’s dozen package: a bass that softly grounds it (Ray Leatherwood), an electric guitar played low and gentle (Barney Kessel), and London’s vocal, approximately one notch above bruised murmur but exquisitely competent at these hushed levels. Credit to producer Bobby Troup for reining it all in so assiduously, and to London even more for delivering the goods. Julie Is Her Name smolders with contained power—it has it, it doesn’t have to wield it, you can feel it in every phrase. It’s the less-is-more idea in action. “Gone With the Wind,” the album closer, finishes it exactly right. Written by Allie Wrubel and Herb Magidson in 1937, the song has nothing to do with either the movie or the novel, except it was written the year after the blockbuster novel came out, so just saying. But London’s version makes it a bon voyage, sending us off with all the breezy essence of the album. It feels like she’s waving from the deck of a departing ocean liner. The album recedes into the horizon. In between “Cry Me a River” and “Gone With the Wind” there are four songs under 2:00 and covers of standards by Cole Porter, the Gershwins, Irving Berlin, Jimmy Dorsey, and more. “It Never Entered My Mind,” a Rodgers & Hart tune the internet seems to think is a Miles Davis song, gets a particularly nice treatment here. In fact, it’s been playing a lot in my head lately, when I wake up or do the dishes or anytime. Earworms are only bad when you fight them. Inspirational line (from “Easy Street”): “Just lie around all day, just sit and play the horses.”