I think it's safe to say that people of a certain age and over, even those who aren't into jazz, have heard of "Moonlight Serenade" by Glenn Miller. Even if they don't know the title or the man behind it, they can recognize it. And even before I got into jazz wholeheartedly during my years in Japan, I remember hearing this all the time on radio and seeing performances of it on television.
Coincidentally enough, I'm writing this ROY article just a couple of days shy of what would have been Miller's 121st birthday. Much has been made about his death, declared in absentia, after his plane had disappeared over the English Channel in December 1944 during World War II. But let's focus on "Moonlight Serenade" which made its premiere in 1939 with the clarinets in front and the horns backing them up. Considering that Miller purportedly wasn't the warmest person on the planet, one of his masterpieces apparently had listeners getting all lumpy in the throat.
As someone who attended his fair share of school dance parties, there was always a song at the end of those soirees which made for a far better way of saying that it was time to go home than having the janitor crankily switch the lights on and off repeatedly. It would always be a ballad of sorts to get lovers up for that final cheek-to-cheek and then everyone would slowly sashay off the floor and out of the building. I think "Moonlight Serenade" may have been the jazz equivalent of the last song of the party. Mind you, I never heard Miller's magnum opus ever played at the end of my own dance parties, but I could imagine it gently delivering folks up into the night sky under the moon before quietly depositing them out the door.
The Boston Pops is a pop orchestra that has been with me ever since I was a baby. Their contributions are included in that 5-LP set of "50 Years Of Hits In Stereo" by RCA that we got with our huge stereo. Led by Arthur Fiedler in my early years, the Pops always struck me as the coolest orchestra because they could handle not only classical music but also provide their own distinct classy touch to modern hits. Perhaps they are the one unit that managed to merge the jazz that had once been disdained as the devil's music and the more acceptable "beautiful music" of a century ago.
And then, in what would become one example of music's equivalent of bringing Shohei Ohtani and the Los Angeles Dodgers together, maestro John Williams, the king of the blockbuster soundtrack, became the new conductor for the Boston Pops from 1980 to 1993. PBS used to have the summer weekly shows featuring the Pops which I remember watching quite a bit.
I recently discovered that Williams and the Pops had released an album covering some of the jazz classics titled "Unforgettable" back in 1993, and their take on "Moonlight Serenade" was indeed splendiferous. It still hews to the Miller original but the Pops' touches are there such as those shimmering strings. In a way, their take would be the ideal version to finish off a TV series or movie franchise with the main character walking off into the distance after having confessed to his love for "Moonlight Serenade" years or entries earlier. Not a bad way to go.
Well, when it comes to 1939 and 1993, I was obviously alive in only one of those two years, so let's go with what was winning the Japan Record Awards in the latter year.
Album of the Year: Mariya Takeuchi -- Quiet Life
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