The Greatest Oldies Music

Oldies Musics Pop

Neil Sedaka – Calendar Girl

About the Song

The world of music has been blessed with countless love songs, each one capturing the essence of love’s joys, sorrows, and everything in between. Among these timeless classics, Neil Sedaka’s “Calendar Girl” stands out as a true masterpiece, a song that has captivated audiences for generations with its heartwarming melody and poignant lyrics.

Released in 1961, “Calendar Girl” quickly became a global sensation, topping charts worldwide and cementing Sedaka’s status as a pop icon. The song’s enduring popularity can be attributed to its ability to evoke a wide range of emotions, from the tender sweetness of young love to the bittersweet nostalgia of time passing.

At the heart of “Calendar Girl” is a simple yet powerful concept: the idea of immortalizing a beloved’s beauty by capturing it in a calendar. The song’s narrator paints a vivid picture of his love interest, describing her as “the prettiest girl in the whole wide world,” with “hair of gold and eyes of blue.” He envisions her image gracing each month of the calendar, a constant reminder of her timeless beauty.

The song’s lyrics are infused with a sense of longing and adoration, as the narrator expresses his deep affection for his calendar girl. He promises to cherish her memory forever, even as the years go by and the seasons change. The song’s timeless appeal lies in its ability to capture the universal human experience of love and loss, the bittersweet joy of memories that linger long after the moment has passed.

“Calendar Girl” is more than just a love song; it’s a celebration of beauty, innocence, and the enduring power of love. Sedaka’s gentle vocals and the song’s infectious melody perfectly complement the heartfelt lyrics, creating an emotional resonance that has touched millions of listeners around the world.

The song’s legacy extends far beyond its commercial success. It has been covered by countless artists, from pop icons like Frank Sinatra and Andy Williams to country stars like Dolly Parton and Willie Nelson. Each rendition brings a unique interpretation to the song, further testament to its enduring appeal.

“Calendar Girl” remains a beloved classic, a song that continues to touch hearts and inspire generations of music lovers. It’s a reminder of the power of love to transcend time and circumstance, a testament to the beauty of human connection.

Video 

Lyrics: Calendar Girl

I love, I love, I love my calendar girl
Yeah, sweet calendar girl
I love, I love, I love my calendar girl
Each and every day of the year(January)
You start the year all fine
(February)
You’re my little Valentine
(March)
I’m gonna march you down the aisle
(April)
You’re the Easter bunny
When you smile

Yeah, yeah
My heart’s in a whirl
I love, I love, I love my little calendar girl
Every day (every day)
Every day (every day)
Of the year (every day of the year)

(May)
Maybe if I ask your dad and mom
(June)
They’d let me take you to the junior prom
(July)
Like a firecracker
I’m aglow
(August)
When you’re on the beach you steal the show

Yeah, yeah
My heart’s in a whirl
I love, I love, I love my little calendar girl
Every day (every day)
Every day (every day)
Of the year (every day of the year)

Whoo!

Yeah, yeah
My heart’s in a whirl
I love, I love, I love my little calendar girl
Every day (every day)
Every day (every day)
Of the year (every day of the year)

(September)
I light the candles at your sweet sixteen
(October)
Romeo and Juliet on Halloween
(November)
I’ll give thanks that you belong to me
(December)
You’re the present ‘neath my Christmas tree

Yeah, yeah
My heart’s in a whirl
I love, I love, I love my little calendar girl
Every day (every day)
Every day (every day)
Of the year (every day of the year)

I love, I love, I love my calendar girl
Yeah, sweet calendar girl
I love, I love, I love my calendar girl
Yeah, sweet calendar girl

Related Post

Elvis Presley’s greatest musical gift was not putting words onto paper. It was hearing something inside a song that other people sometimes could not hear yet. Give him someone else’s melody and lyrics, and he could reshape the emotion through his phrasing, timing and voice until the recording felt intensely personal.

The musicians at RCA Studio B were ready to make records. They were not ready for the way Elvis Presley entered the room. During his celebrated Nashville sessions in 1970, bassist Norbert Putnam remembered Elvis appearing in dramatic fashion—wearing a flowing black cape and carrying an ornate cane. Putnam later recalled the impression that it was almost as though “a prince had walked into the room.”

STONEWALL JACKSON ASKED TOM T. HALL TO WRITE A PRISON SONG, BUT HALL COULD NOT DO IT BECAUSE HE HAD NEVER ACTUALLY BEEN TO PRISON. Tom T. Hall spent his early career turning out the kind of polished, commercial hits that Nashville publishers lived for. He could write what people expected, but he always felt like a fraud. When Stonewall Jackson approached him requesting a prison song—hoping to capture that rugged, authentic aura Johnny Cash was building—Hall hit a wall. He stared at his notepad, realized he had no genuine experience with a cell, and flatly refused to fake it. He was a songwriter, not an actor, and his pride kept him from writing about a world he didn’t know. His wife, Dixie, cut through the tension with a simple reminder: he had indeed spent a week in a county jail in Kentucky after a traffic violation. That memory was not cinematic or heroic. It was just mundane, quiet, and uncomfortable. It involved bad food, the sound of iron bars, and the slow, agonizing crawl of days where the jailer’s wife suddenly started looking like the most beautiful woman on earth. He stopped writing songs that invented generic situations and started reporting the people and places he actually encountered. The result was his first number one hit, written like a man telling a story across a kitchen table. Stonewall Jackson never got his song, but Hall finally found his own voice in the silence of that jail cell.

You Missed

Oldies Musics

Elvis Presley’s greatest musical gift was not putting words onto paper. It was hearing something inside a song that other people sometimes could not hear yet. Give him someone else’s melody and lyrics, and he could reshape the emotion through his phrasing, timing and voice until the recording felt intensely personal.

Oldies Musics

The musicians at RCA Studio B were ready to make records. They were not ready for the way Elvis Presley entered the room. During his celebrated Nashville sessions in 1970, bassist Norbert Putnam remembered Elvis appearing in dramatic fashion—wearing a flowing black cape and carrying an ornate cane. Putnam later recalled the impression that it was almost as though “a prince had walked into the room.”

Country

Lisa Marie Presley grew up in a house visited by some of the most famous people in the world, yet the person who mattered most to her was the man everyone else called the King. To millions, Elvis Presley was an untouchable superstar. To Lisa, he was the father who loved to spoil her, make her laugh and turn ordinary moments at Graceland into childhood adventures.

Country

BOB DYLAN AND JOHNNY CASH SHATTERED THE WALLS OF NASHVILLE WITHOUT FIRING A SINGLE SHOT. Columbia Studio A sat thick with the smell of stale coffee and cigarette smoke on a February morning in 1969. While the rock world was chasing ghosts in psychedelic haze, Bob Dylan stepped into the epicenter of American country music with a voice that sounded like it had been dragged across gravel. He wasn’t there to challenge the gatekeepers at the Opry; he was there to find the heartbeat of a sound he had loved from afar. Johnny Cash walked through the heavy studio doors, guitar in hand, and for two days, the rigid borders of genre simply dissolved into the air. They didn’t record some grand manifesto to change the industry. Instead, they sat on stools and tore through old folk standards and each other’s deep cuts, letting the microphones capture the loose, unvarnished truth of a collaboration that felt more like a porch gathering than a major label session. Carl Perkins added his own licks to the mix, blending the percussive snap of rock and roll with the lonesome ache of a country ballad. It was a deliberate, quiet rebellion that treated the traditions of both worlds as neighbors rather than strangers. When the tape stopped rolling, they walked away having proved that the lines drawn by radio programmers were mostly make-believe. The Ryman Auditorium stage eventually welcomed a new kind of guest, and the air in Nashville felt lighter, forever changed by two men who knew that music didn’t need permission to belong everywhere at once.