....................his vocal styling, combined with his eternal essence of cool, make him timeless.

Hey pallies, likes today's Dino-devotion comes from a dude that tags himself  "Jackrabbit Slim" and he hangs his hat at his blog "Go-Go-Rama."  "Slim's bio tells us that he hails from Princeton, N.J. and that he " Studied theater in college, most of my working life I've been in the editorial field, spending over ten years at Penthouse."  Our google blog searchin' tell us that this nouveau hipster in truly truly in the Dino-know.

"Jackrabbit Slim" Dino-devotion is most simply tagged "Dean Martin" and it is brief in scribin's, but oh so so long on insight into our most beloved Dino.  "Slim" begins his homage of our King of Cool with his iconic insight that he has  "always considered Dean Martin to be an under-rated performer."  And, this knower of Dino uses well chosen wise words to tell his why.  Mr. Jack also shares his beautiful belief that while our Dino "had a number of acclaimed film roles" in reality " it's singing that is his greatest legacy."  'Gain this Dino-lover makes good on his thesis with wonderous words of deepest and truest devotion to the Dino-truth.

"Jack" has used his editorial expertise wondrously well in his touchin' tribute to our one and only Dino.  We here at ilovedinomartin sends out our giant gratitude to him for usin' his tremendous talents in puttin' words to patter to homage our Dino so so coolly!  To checks this out in it's original source, simply clicks on the tag of this here Dino-report.  Dino-always, ever, and only, DMP

 


Dean Martin

I've always considered Dean Martin to be an under-rated performer. For one thing, he never seemed to mind playing second-fiddle. When teamed with Frank Sinatra and the rest of the Rat Pack, he eased into the comfortable role of being a lovable drunk, even though he was never an alcoholic, and didn't like staying up all hours (he preferred going home to his wife and kids). When he was partnered with Jerry Lewis, he was the straight man, letting Lewis do all the antics. He did grow tired of this, though, and ended the lucrative act.

Martin did become a star in his own right. He had a number of acclaimed film roles, such as Some Came Running and Rio Bravo, and a string of James Bond knock-offs in the Matt Helm series. Then he had a long stint on television as host of a variety show and celebrity roasts, where again he played up the barely awake, louche persona that he had crafted so well.

Therefore, I fear his reputation as a singer isn't what it's used to be. I have no idea what people under 40 even think of when they hear the name Dean Martin, if they know who he is at all. But it's singing that is his greatest legacy.  I picked up a copy of his greatest hits, and while some of the songs are really moldy oldies, like "Standing on the Corner," his vocal styling, combined with his eternal essence of cool, make him timeless.

Martin's signature song was "Everybody Loves Somebody Sometime," which knocked the Beatles' A Hard Days Night off the top of the charts, and was his theme song thereafter. He also recorded many Italian crooner standards, the kind that put you in mind of a trattoria with red-checkered tablecloths and Chianti: "Volare," "That's Amore," and "Mambo Italiano." Other songs are more interesting, such as "Memories Are Made of This," which is fantastically arranged by Lee Gillette (and hit number 1 in 1955), "Houston," by Lee Hazlewood, a kind of Roger Miller-type song about a guy down on his luck, and "Ain't That a Kick in the Head," an upbeat number that starts out "How lucky can one guy be?" which sums up Martin's life and career in a nutshell.

Not on this record are his Christmas standards, mostly secular, all dealing with bad weather: "Baby, It's Cold Outside," "Let It Snow," and "Winter Wonderland." Another song not on here is "Who's Got the Action", which is my favorite of his. Listening to this just makes you feel like you're the in-crowd. Fortunately I have it on my Ultra-Lounge "Vegas, Baby!" collection.

Martin, who was born Dino Crocetti in Steubenville, Ohio. He died in 1995 at age 78. He always seemed to be having a good time.