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Helen Merrill


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I also really, really really like Merrill's refusal to use vibrato except only when it needs to vibratoate. That's what seals the deal for me. Very few singers have the guts to just HOLD a note straight like she does, you always hear a little sustain and then vibrato, like it's a reflex,not an intentional move. I also like the way she ends her phrases.

Helen Merrill's best singing stares at you and dares you to stare back. If you do, you're in for an intense session, assuming the Tantric thing works for you, which, of course, it doesn't for everybody.

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I like them well enough, but they don't get to me too much.

Merrill, otoh, there's a Tantric quality to her singing that really pulls me in and keeps me in (no pun intended...).

Hope I'm not being a jerk here, but that's not a pun but a play on words. As I've said before, every pun is a play on words, but not every play on words is a pun.

A pun is a joke whose punch line is a play on words, e.g. the one that ends, "It's a long way to tip a Raree." Or "Halt, boy-foot bear with teaks of Chan!" (Nothing will get me to tell either of them.)

I'd like to hear the setup for this: "Transporting gulls across staid lions for immortal porpoises."

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I think Paul Desmond has one of the best:

"There was a boy of Italian parentage named Carbaggio, born in Germany. Feeling himself a misfit, with his dark curly hair among all those blond Nordic types, he tries to be even more German than the Germans. In late adolescence he flees to Paris, where he steals one of those brass miniatures of the Eiffel Tower. Arrested by the police, he is given a choice of going to jail or leaving the country. He boards the first outbound ship and arrives in New York. Thinking he would like a career in communications, he goes to the RCA building in Rockefeller Plaza, takes an elevator and walks into the office of General Sarnoff. Sarnoff tells him that the only job available is as a strikebreaker. The boy takes it. When the strike ends, he finds himself on a union blacklist. He goes to work making sonar equipment for a company owned by a man named Harris. After several years, his English has improved to the point where he gets a job as a disk jockey. His show is called Rock Time. He has fulfilled his destiny: he’s a routine Teuton, Eiffel-lootin’, Sarnoff goon from Harris Sonar, Rock Time Carbaggio."

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