The Greatest Oldies Music

Oldies Musics

‘What A Wonderful World’ – Louis Armstrong

About the Song

Louis Armstrong, a towering figure in the world of jazz, transcended genres with his instantly recognizable gravelly voice and infectious charm. Among his vast repertoire, “What a Wonderful World” stands out as a beacon of optimism, a song that uplifts the spirit with its simple yet profound message of appreciating life’s everyday beauty.

Released in 1967, “What a Wonderful World” wasn’t originally written by Armstrong himself. The song sprang from the minds of songwriters Bob Thiele and George David Weiss, seeking to capture a sense of childlike wonder amidst a backdrop of social unrest. Armstrong, known for his optimistic spirit, became the perfect voice to deliver their message.

The song opens with a gentle melody, setting the stage for Armstrong’s signature gravelly vocals. “I see trees of green, red roses too,” he sings, his voice radiating warmth and sincerity. The lyrics paint a vivid picture of a world brimming with color and life, from the towering trees to the delicate roses. “I see them bloom for me and for you,” he continues, emphasizing the universality of this beauty, a gift shared by all.

The heart of the song lies in the repeated refrain: “What a wonderful world.” It’s a simple statement, yet delivered with such genuine conviction by Armstrong that it becomes a powerful declaration of gratitude. He finds wonder in the everyday – the clear blue skies, the fluffy white clouds, the vibrant colors of the rainbow.

“I hear babies cry, I watch them grow,” Armstrong sings, acknowledging the natural cycle of life with a touch of tenderness. There’s a sense of acceptance and appreciation for the beauty of each stage, from the vulnerability of a newborn to the wisdom gained through experience.

“What a Wonderful World” isn’t all sunshine and rainbows. It acknowledges the complexities of life, yet chooses to focus on the positive. The song serves as a gentle reminder to slow down, to appreciate the simple things, and to find joy in the everyday miracles that surround us.

Even decades after its release, “What a Wonderful World” resonates with listeners of all ages. It’s a testament to the enduring power of music to uplift the spirit and to remind us of the beauty that exists in the world, if we only choose to see it. The song leaves us with a sense of optimism, a belief that even in the face of challenges, the world remains a wonderful place.

Video 

Lyrics: What A Wonderful World

I see trees of green
Red roses too
I see them bloom
For me and you
And I think to myself
What a wonderful worldI see skies of blue
And clouds of white
The bright blessed day
The dark sacred night
And I think to myself
What a wonderful worldThe colors of the rainbow
So pretty in the sky
Are also on the faces
Of people going by
I see friends shaking hands
Saying, “How do you do?”
They’re really saying
“I love you”I hear babies cry
I watch them grow
They’ll learn much more
Than I’ll never know
And I think to myself
What a wonderful world

Yes, I think to myself
What a wonderful world

Oh yeah

 

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Tucked away in a private drawer, far from the polished sets of her television show, lay a bundle of 341 letters. These were not press clippings or scripts; they were brittle, handwritten testimonies from servicemen stationed in remote barracks, deep in war-torn tunnels, and across desolate battlefields. During the long years of the Second World War, as Hollywood presented a glossy, curated image of American life, Donna Reed spent her nights reading these letters and, more remarkably, personally answering them. This was the quiet, invisible work that defined her, long before the public labeled her the quintessential television mother. Behind the camera during her production years, Reed was a different person entirely. She was rarely seen holding a script for a scene; she was more likely to be found hunched over lighting diagrams or studying the intricacies of cinematography. She possessed an uncredited producer’s mind, constantly analyzing how the frame could better reflect the reality of the family she was trying to depict. The studio environment was frequently cold and high-pressured, but she moved through it with a meticulous attention to detail that frustrated those who wanted to treat her as merely another pretty face in the cast. These tactile remnants—the stacks of ink-stained paper and the forgotten notes on camera angles—tell the story of a woman who never truly fit the box Hollywood built for her. While the world remembers the steady, comforting image of a television home, she lived a life carved out of hard labor and deep empathy. She carried the weight of those soldiers’ stories and the technical burdens of the studio floor until her final days, forever balancing the fragility of her public image against the demanding, gritty reality of her actual life.

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Tucked away in a private drawer, far from the polished sets of her television show, lay a bundle of 341 letters. These were not press clippings or scripts; they were brittle, handwritten testimonies from servicemen stationed in remote barracks, deep in war-torn tunnels, and across desolate battlefields. During the long years of the Second World War, as Hollywood presented a glossy, curated image of American life, Donna Reed spent her nights reading these letters and, more remarkably, personally answering them. This was the quiet, invisible work that defined her, long before the public labeled her the quintessential television mother. Behind the camera during her production years, Reed was a different person entirely. She was rarely seen holding a script for a scene; she was more likely to be found hunched over lighting diagrams or studying the intricacies of cinematography. She possessed an uncredited producer’s mind, constantly analyzing how the frame could better reflect the reality of the family she was trying to depict. The studio environment was frequently cold and high-pressured, but she moved through it with a meticulous attention to detail that frustrated those who wanted to treat her as merely another pretty face in the cast. These tactile remnants—the stacks of ink-stained paper and the forgotten notes on camera angles—tell the story of a woman who never truly fit the box Hollywood built for her. While the world remembers the steady, comforting image of a television home, she lived a life carved out of hard labor and deep empathy. She carried the weight of those soldiers’ stories and the technical burdens of the studio floor until her final days, forever balancing the fragility of her public image against the demanding, gritty reality of her actual life.