Keely Smith, a vocalist best known in the 1950s at Las Vegas nightclubs and on TV as the stone-faced half of a husband-and-wife comic duo in which she impatiently waited out and mocked the rubbery crooning style of mate Louis Prima before delivering a sincere rendition of her own, died on December 16. She was 89.
After the Smith-Prima divorce in 1961, fans were left with the realization that the team's funny fractious personality differences on stage actually extended to their home. Everything about Smith's darting looks on stage and Prima's apprehensive glances seemed a little too real. The discord they ginned up—Prima's primal R&B delivery and Smith's controlled pop response—on hit songs such as That Old Black Magic, Just a Gigilo and Don't Worry About Me reminded many of Ralph and Alice's relationship on TV's The Honeymooners.
In some respects, their mass appeal rested largely in the subtext of their act, depending on your perspective. From a woman's vantage point, the pains of enduring the loud, clownish antics of a husband were all too familiar, while the male view saw Smith as an uptight kill-joy only too eager to extinguish her husband's fun. In truth, the act borrowed quite a bit from the jazz-pop vocal pairing of Louis Armstrong and Ella Fitzgerald.
In the 1960s, a newly single Smith went on to have a strong solo career at clubs and on albums, thanks in part to the benevolence of Frank Sinatra, whose Reprise label signed her. Some of her best albums were recorded during this period.
In the 1950s, Smith and Prima helped loosen up pop music, injecting heat and mischief into a genre that had grown staid and sexless. A Tin Pan Alley tune in the hands of Prima and Smith was updated as a novelty song, particularly when Sam Butera's rock 'n' roll saxophone was added.
On reflection, Smith's voice, with Prima or alone, was fresh and optimistic, even on ballads. Though her approach didn't often bring a song to its knees, Smith had a way of slow-cooking a tune with conviction and timing, holding her vocal power until the end. There also was a strong feminist undercurrent running through Smith's stage persona that made her admirable in an age of conformity. I'm not sure if Smith ever wrote a tell-all memoir, but that's one I'd love to read.
I last posted on Keely Smith in October 2016 here.
Here are a bunch of videos celebrating Smith's voice on a wide range of standards and rock-era hits:
Here's That Old Black Magic...
Here's All the Way...
Here's Superstar....
Here's Do You Want to Know a Secret...
Here's Imagination...
And here's What Kind of Fool Am I (that last held note is all you need to know about Smith)...
