Even as a kid, I felt depressed when Bing or Perry Como or whoever tried to "rock." Then again, the guys had to put bread on the table. And, in Bing's case, keep up his energy to physically abuse his sons until they committed suicide (two).
Jesus. Every time I watch this, it gets more depressing. I'm not even Bing's son and I feel like killing myself.*(* Irony.)
Another strange byproduct of that era (i.e., when older singers were trying to seem hip) was that, for some reason (I suspect to make middle-aged viewers less terrified), they'd always choreograph their versions in an incredibly literal way. You sing "marching band," there's an actual marching band; that sort of thing. I still want to see the lost version of Andy Williams singing "I Am the Walrus."
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