OldiesButGoodies

Oldies Music

Perry Como – “It’s Impossible”

I Know - song and lyrics by Perry Como | Spotify

Introduction:

In the vast and ever-evolving landscape of popular music, certain melodies and vocal performances possess an almost alchemical quality, transcending the temporal boundaries of their creation to resonate with successive generations. Among these enduring treasures stands Perry Como’s rendition of “It’s Impossible,” a song that, upon its release, swiftly cemented its place as a cornerstone of romantic balladry. More than just a fleeting chart-topper, this recording embodies a confluence of masterful vocal artistry, sophisticated musical arrangement, and a lyrical sentiment that speaks to the very heart of human connection. To revisit “It’s Impossible” is not merely to listen to a song; it is to immerse oneself in an atmosphere of refined elegance and heartfelt emotion, a testament to the enduring power of a well-crafted musical narrative.

Perry Como, an artist whose very name evokes an aura of gentle charm and unwavering vocal control, was already a seasoned and beloved figure in the music industry by the time “It’s Impossible” graced the airwaves. His distinctive baritone, characterized by its smooth, almost conversational delivery and impeccable phrasing, had become synonymous with sophisticated popular music. Unlike some of his more overtly dramatic contemporaries, Como possessed a remarkable ability to convey profound emotion through subtle nuances and an understated sincerity. This inherent quality made him the ideal interpreter for a song that explores the seemingly insurmountable nature of deep affection.

“It’s Impossible”, with its evocative title hinting at the almost miraculous feeling of profound love, unfolds with a graceful melodic structure that allows Como’s vocal performance to take center stage. The arrangement, typically lush and employing a rich tapestry of orchestral textures, provides a supportive yet never overwhelming backdrop for his voice. Strings swell with understated passion, while delicate instrumental flourishes add layers of emotional depth without ever detracting from the central message of the lyrics. This careful balance between vocal prominence and orchestral accompaniment is a hallmark of the era and contributes significantly to the song’s timeless appeal.

The lyrical content of “It’s Impossible” delves into the profound and often inexplicable nature of deep romantic attachment. It speaks of a connection so powerful that it defies logical explanation, a bond that feels almost predestined. Phrases like “Impossible things are happening every day” capture this sense of wonder and awe at the transformative power of love. The words resonate with a universal truth – the feeling that a truly significant relationship can alter one’s perception of reality, making what once seemed improbable not only possible but beautifully real. This exploration of love’s transformative capabilities, devoid of any superficiality, is a key reason why the song continues to strike a chord with listeners across different eras and experiences.

Furthermore, the enduring appeal of “It’s Impossible” can be attributed to its masterful execution. Perry Como’s vocal delivery is a masterclass in understated emotion. He imbues each phrase with a sense of genuine feeling, conveying the depth of the sentiment without resorting to histrionics. His breath control is impeccable, allowing for seamless transitions and sustained notes that linger in the listener’s ear long after they have been sung. This technical proficiency, combined with his innate ability to connect with the emotional core of the song, elevates “It’s Impossible” beyond a mere musical performance into a genuine expression of heartfelt emotion.

In a musical landscape often characterized by fleeting trends and ephemeral sensations, Perry Como’s “It’s Impossible” stands as a testament to the enduring power of sincerity, vocal artistry, and a timeless exploration of the human heart. It is a song that invites listeners to reflect on the profound and often inexplicable nature of love, delivered with a grace and sophistication that continues to captivate and move audiences. To truly appreciate its impact is to understand the artistry of Perry Como at his finest and the enduring allure of a song that dares to declare the beautiful improbability of deep connection.

Video:

https://youtu.be/BKQ9–_ZgB4?si=2QFb9EZJQYoM3lrB

Related Post

1985 – THE FORMATION: WHEN FOUR ROADS QUIETLY BECAME ONE. The birth of The Highwaymen was never planned, never staged for legend. It happened almost unnoticed—when Johnny Cash, Willie Nelson, Waylon Jennings, and Kris Kristofferson came together simply to record one song: Highwayman. There was no talk of a supergroup, no bold declaration of destiny. Four voices met in a room, sang as equals—and then stepped back, unaware that history had quietly taken note. That same unforced grace defines the album Highwayman. It doesn’t chase perfection or spectacle. Instead, it moves with patience and restraint, shaped by men who had already traveled far enough to stop competing—with each other, or with time. The songs breathe. The voices wait for one another. Each singer knows when to lead, and more importantly, when to disappear into the harmony. There is a stillness in these performances—a sense of hard-earned peace. Nothing is rushed. Nothing is proved. It sounds like four long roads crossing briefly, sharing silence as much as song, and then continuing on—changed forever, even if they never meant to be.

A SONG BORN FROM GRIEF: HOW THE BEE GEES SAID GOODBYE TO ANDY GIBB. When Andy Gibb died suddenly in 1988, he left behind more than an unfinished life — he left a silence his brothers could not escape. For Bee Gees, the loss of Andy was not just personal; it was shattering. In the quiet aftermath, Barry, Robin, and Maurice turned to the only language that could hold their pain. What they wrote was not simply a song, but a farewell shaped by love, regret, and longing. Every harmony carried the weight of memories they could no longer share, every lyric a whispered prayer to a brother gone far too soon. Decades later, that song still aches — a reminder that some bonds never fade, even when life ends too early.

“We Don’t Say Goodbye”: Barry Gibb’s Emotional Tribute to His Brothers That Left the World in Tears

You Missed

Country

EMOTIONAL BOMBSHELL: From the quiet heart of Spicewood Ranch, Texas, a momeThe news did not arrive with a press conference or the glare of camera flashes. It came quietly from Spicewood Ranch, Texas—soft-spoken, deeply human, and carried more by emotion than announcement. Yet within hours, it moved through the music world like a tremor, leaving fans reflective, grateful, and quietly undone. At his beloved Hill Country home, Willie Nelson stood beside his son, Lukas Nelson, and spoke words few were truly prepared to hear. His eyes shimmered, his voice steady but undeniably full, as he referred to what may become “one last ride”—a possible final father-and-son tour, shared stage by stage, song by song, heart to heart. For a man who has never relied on spectacle to tell his story, the moment felt profound precisely because of its restraint. Those present describe the silence that followed as thick and reverent, almost protective. Willie did not speak of endings with fear or regret. Instead, he spoke of gratitude—of time well spent and of the rare blessing of standing onstage with his son, fully aware of what that shared moment represents. Health whispers have followed him for years, but on this day, the focus was not on decline. It was on connection. Fans responded instantly. Messages poured in from around the world—some joyful, many tearful. People recalled childhoods shaped by Willie’s songs, long drives soundtracked by his voice, and lives quietly stitched together through decades of music. The thought of seeing father and son together one more time felt almost too beautiful to hold. Willie’s words were simple. The emotion was not. He looked at Lukas not as a legend surveying a successor, but as a father acknowledging the miracle of shared purpose. Lukas stood with calm resolve, his respect unmistakable. Those familiar with their music understand the alchemy immediately: the father’s seasoned wisdom flowing into the son’s passionate fire, neither overshadowing the other, both elevated by the bond between them. When they sing together, it has never felt rehearsed. It feels inevitable. Their harmonies move like a warm sunset over rolling hills—unhurried, luminous, and aware of their own value. Willie’s weathered phrasing carries memory and mercy. Lukas answers with clarity and courage, carrying the flame forward without trying to reshape it. What emerges is not nostalgia, but continuation. That is why the possibility of a final tour lands so deeply. Not because fans fear the end, but because they recognize the rare honesty of the offering. This is not about ticket sales. It is about sharing time—giving the music one more long look at the people who carried it all these years. Those close to the family say the idea remains gently unformed, guided first by Willie’s health and comfort. Nothing is rushed. Nothing is forced. If it happens, it will unfold the way Willie has always lived—on his terms, with heart leading the way. In a world obsessed with spectacle, Willie Nelson is offering presence. Standing beside Lukas, he appeared at peace—steady, thankful, unafraid. If this truly becomes their last journey together, it will not feel like an ending. It will feel like a circle softly closing—love beyond stages, and a legacy that refuses to fade. Some rides never truly end. They live forever in song. have softly revealed plans for what may become their final father-and-son tour—born amid whispered concerns, carried by love. With eyes shimmering, Willie called it “one last ride,” Lukas standing faithfully beside him. Fans felt it instantly—the ache, the beauty, the unbreakable bond. Tears flowed as hearts struggled to hold the weight of a lifetime shared onstage. A rare, almost heavenly gift: voices, blood, and memory intertwined before the sun finally sets.

Country

SACRED SILENCE SETTLED OVER THE ROOM THE MOMENT THE FIRST NOTE WAS RELEASED. When Gene Watson sang “You Gave Me a Mountain,” it was no longer a performance—it became a shared act of remembrance. The audience did not breathe, did not move. Every word carried the weight of loss, endurance, and quiet faith, binding strangers together in a single, fragile stillness. In that pause between verses, silence spoke as loudly as the song itself. Long after the final note faded, the emotion remained—lingering in lowered eyes, clasped hands, and hearts that felt understood. Some songs end. This one stayed, echoing softly long after the lights dimmed.

Country

“Dad never really left. He just learned how to fly a little higher.” One week after Merle Haggard was gone, the ranch in Shasta County fell into a silence it had never known. The air felt heavier, as if the land itself was listening. Ben, Noel, and Marty stood inside the old barn-turned-studio where their father had spent so many nights chasing songs that came from somewhere deep and restless. Someone finally broke the quiet with a soft murmur: “Play something he would’ve loved.” For a long moment, no one moved. Then Ben reached for a guitar — Merle’s worn Martin, its fretboard marked by years of truth and travel — and brushed the first aching chords of “Silver Wings.” The room changed instantly. Noel followed, then Marty. Their voices weren’t polished, but they were real — exactly the kind of honesty their father had always demanded. As they sang “don’t leave me, I cry…” it became clear they weren’t performing a song. They were holding onto him. When the final note disappeared into the rafters, Ben spoke quietly, almost to himself: “Dad didn’t leave. He just flew a little higher.” From that moment on, every time the Haggard boys sang “Silver Wings,” it wasn’t a tribute. It was a conversation — a voice rising to meet their father’s, still echoing in the place he loved most.

Oldies Music

1985 – THE FORMATION: WHEN FOUR ROADS QUIETLY BECAME ONE. The birth of The Highwaymen was never planned, never staged for legend. It happened almost unnoticed—when Johnny Cash, Willie Nelson, Waylon Jennings, and Kris Kristofferson came together simply to record one song: Highwayman. There was no talk of a supergroup, no bold declaration of destiny. Four voices met in a room, sang as equals—and then stepped back, unaware that history had quietly taken note. That same unforced grace defines the album Highwayman. It doesn’t chase perfection or spectacle. Instead, it moves with patience and restraint, shaped by men who had already traveled far enough to stop competing—with each other, or with time. The songs breathe. The voices wait for one another. Each singer knows when to lead, and more importantly, when to disappear into the harmony. There is a stillness in these performances—a sense of hard-earned peace. Nothing is rushed. Nothing is proved. It sounds like four long roads crossing briefly, sharing silence as much as song, and then continuing on—changed forever, even if they never meant to be.