One Swell Party
Atlantic, The, July, 2004 by David Schiff
Cole Porter had the best ear in the history of American music. I'm not referring to his perfect pitch, which was only part of an innate musical talent that was the talk of Peru, Indiana, by the time he was ten and already turning out songs for friends and family. More important, he heard America singing, and talking, even when he was glamorously expatriated in Venetian palaces, Riviera chateaux, and South Seas luxury hideaways.
Porter's swank settings, distant from the sources of American song, made his music chic, chichi, risqué, and artificial—and also, oddly, American. Whether abroad or at home, Porter was an acute observer. His songs are subtly distorting mirrors, parodies that isolate and intensify the rhythms of American speech along with its sexual subtexts. Thanks to the new film biography De-lovely , this summer's air will most likely be filled with Porter's tunes—and what better music to listen ...