how deep is the ocean (how high is the sky?)

Irving Berlin emerged from the depths of his own great depression with this questioning standard.  He had lost his fortune in the stock market crash of 1929 and then his infant son died the next year, leaving Berlin in a personal crisis: “I had gotten rusty as a songwriter. I developed an inferiority complex. No song I wrote seemed right. I struggled to pull off a hit.”

In the midst of this creative slump, he composed 'How Deep is the Ocean? (How High is the Sky?)', recycling the title phrase from another of his songs, 'To My Mammy'.  The song was one of a select few of his songs that was introduced on the radio. Berlin was critical of the new medium:  "We have become a world of listeners, rather than singers. Our songs don’t live anymore. They fail to become part of us. Radio has mechanized them all. In the old days Al Jolson sang the same song for years until it meant something – when records were played until they cracked. Today, Paul Whiteman plays a song hit once or twice or a Hollywood hero sings them once in the films and radio runs them ragged for a couple of weeks – then they’re dead."

That was not the case with 'How Deep is the Ocean? (How High is the Sky?)'.  It charted four times in its first year alone.  The next year it appeared in the film 'The Life of Jimmy Dolan' and has since become a jazz standard.  






www.biography.com/irving-berlin





Jack Fulton introduced the song with Paul Whiteman's Orchestra. 




Bing Crosby




Judy Garland




Billie Holiday




Benny Goodman and Peggy Lee




Ella Fitzgerald




Charlie Parker




Bill Evans Trio




Eric Clapton





How can I tell you what is in my heart?
How can I measure each and every part?
How can I tell you how much I love you?
How can I measure just how much I do?

How much do I love you?
I'll tell you no lie
How deep is the ocean?
How high is the sky?

How many times a day do I think of you?
How many roses are sprinkled with dew?

How far would I travel
To be where you are?
How far is the journey
From here to a star?

And if I ever lost you
How much would I cry?
How deep is the ocean?
How high is the sky?

take my hand, precious Lord

Blues bandleader Thomas Andrew Dorsey wrote the words of this gospel song during a time of darkest grief. Dorsey told the story in a testimony: "Back in 1932, I was thirty-two years old and a fairly new husband. My wife, Nettie, and I were living in a little apartment on Chicago's Southside. One hot August afternoon I had to go to St. Louis, where I was to be the featured soloist at a large revival meeting. I didn't want to go. Nettie was in the last month of pregnancy with our first child. But a lot of people were expecting me in St. Louis. I kissed Nettie good-bye, clattered downstairs to our Model A and, in a fresh Lake Michigan breeze, chugged out of Chicago on Route 66. However, outside the city, I discovered that in my anxiety at leaving, I had forgotten my music case. I wheeled around and headed back. I found Nettie sleeping peacefully. I hesitated by her bed; something was strongly telling me to stay. But eager to get on my way, and not wanting to disturb Nettie, I shrugged off the feeling and quietly slipped out of the room with my music.

The next night, in the steaming St. Louis heat, the crowd called on me to sing again and again. When I finally sat down, a messenger boy ran up with a Western Union telegram. I ripped open the envelope. Pasted on the yellow sheet were the words: YOUR WIFE JUST DIED. People were happily singing and clapping around me, but I could hardly keep from crying out. I rushed to a phone and called home. All I could hear on the other end was 'Nettie is dead. Nettie is dead.'

When I got back, learned that Nettie had given birth to a boy. I swung between grief and joy. Yet that night, the baby died. I buried Nettie and our little boy together, in the same casket. Then I fell apart. For days I closeted myself. I felt that God had done me an injustice. I didn't want to serve Him any more or write gospel songs. I just wanted to go back to that jazz world I once knew so well. But then, as I hunched alone in that dark apartment those first sad days, I thought back to the afternoon I went to St. Louis. Something kept telling me to stay with Nettie. Was that something God? Oh, if I had paid more attention to Him that day, I would have stayed and been with Nettie when she died. From that moment on I vowed to listen more closely to Him. But still I was lost in grief. Everyone was kind to me, especially a friend, Professor Fry, who seemed to know what I needed. On the following Saturday evening he took me up to Malone's Poro College, a neighborhood music school. It was quiet; the late evening sun crept through the curtained windows. I sat down at the piano, and my hands began to browse over the keys. Something happened to me then. I felt at peace. I felt as though I could reach out and touch God. I found myself playing a melody, one into my head - they just seemed to fall into place:

Precious Lord, take my hand,

Lead me on, let me stand!

I am tired, I am weak, I am worn,

Through the storm, through the night

Lead me on to the light,

Take my hand, precious Lord, lead me home.

When my way grows drear

Precious Lord linger near,

When my light is almost gone

Hear my cry, hear my call

Hold my hand lest I fall

Take my hand precious Lord, lead me home.

When the darkness appears and the night draws near

And the day is past and gone

At the river I stand

Guide my feet, hold my hand

Take my hand precious Lord, lead me home.

Precious Lord, take my hand

Lead me on, let me stand

I'm tired, I am weak, I am lone

Through the storm, through the night

Lead me on to the light

Take my hand precious Lord, lead me home

As the Lord gave me these words and melody, He also healed my spirit. I learned that when we are in our deepest grief, when we feel farthest from God, this is when He is closest, and when we are most open to His restoring power. And so I go on living for God willingly and joyfully, until that day comes when He will take me and gently lead me home."

Gladys Knight, Chaka Khan, and Etta James





Aretha Franklin






Al Green





Mahalia Jackson





B.B. King





Elvis Presley





Jim Reeves







Rosetta Tharpe

it don't mean a thing (if it ain't got that swing)

 

Sir Duke brought swing to the mainstream with this infectious jazz anthem. Duke Ellington wrote 'It Don't Mean a Thing (If It Ain't Got That Swing)' with lyricist Irving MIlls in 1931 and first recorded it with his orchestra on February 2, 1932. The title has been attributed to trumpet player “Bubber” Miley and his replacement Cootie Williams, as well as Mills. While it might not be the first use of the term in a title, it certainly ushered in the age of swing, in the worlds of Ellington, "as the expression of a sentiment which prevailed among jazz musicians at the time."

Duke Ellington and His orchestra

Stephane Grappelly's Hot Four with Django Reinhardt

'Ella Fitzgerald Sings the Duke Ellington Songbook'

Thelonious Monk

What good is melody?

What good is music?

If it ain't possessing something sweet

It ain't the melody

It ain't the music

There's something else that makes this song complete

(Bo dolled dolled do da...)

It don't mean a thing if it ain't got that swing

(do Do a Do ap...

Well it don't mean a thing all you got to do is sing

It makes no difference if it's sweet or hot

Just give that rhythm ev-ry-thing you got YES

It don't mean a thing if it ain't got that swing

It don't mean a thing

It don't mean a thing if it ain't got that swing boy

(Ba ba doo dah doo,)

I said it don't mean a thing and all you got to do is sing

(La la la,)

Now it makes no difference if it's sweet or hot

Just give that rhythm ev-ry-thing you got OHH

It don't mean a thing boy, if it ain't got-a-that-a-swinga

Doo Wap

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