The Greatest Oldies Music

Oldies Musics

“Splish Splash” – Bobby Darin

About the Song

Bobby Darin was an American singer, songwriter, and actor who rose to fame in the late 1950s and early 1960s. He was known for his versatile style, which encompassed pop, rock, jazz, and folk music. Darin was also a successful actor, appearing in films such as “Come September” and “That’s Entertainment!”

“Splish Splash” was released in 1958 as the B-side of Darin’s single “Queen of the Hop.” The song was a surprise hit, reaching number three on the Billboard Hot 100 chart. “Splish Splash” is a catchy, upbeat song with a playful melody and lyrics. The song tells the story of a young couple who are enjoying a summer day at the beach. The song’s carefree spirit and infectious energy made it a popular choice for jukeboxes and dance parties.

“Splish Splash” has been covered by many other artists, including The Beach Boys, The Beatles, and Cliff Richard. The song has also been featured in several films and television shows, including “American Graffiti” and “Happy Days.”

The song’s enduring popularity is a testament to its timeless appeal. “Splish Splash” is a fun, feel-good song that is sure to put a smile on your face. So next time you’re feeling down, put on “Splish Splash” and let Bobby Darin’s infectious energy lift you up.

Some interesting facts about the song:

  • The song was written by Darin and his friend, Al Kooper.
  • The song was inspired by Darin’s real-life experience of going to the beach with his girlfriend.
  • The song was originally recorded as a demo, but it was released as a single after it became popular with radio DJs.
  • The song was a commercial success, reaching number three on the Billboard Hot 100 chart.
  • The song has been covered by many other artists, including The Beach Boys, The Beatles, and Cliff Richard.
  • The song has also been featured in several films and television shows, including “American Graffiti” and “Happy Days.”

Video

Lyrics: Splish Splash

Splish splash, I was taking a bath
Long about a Saturday night, yeah
A rub dub, just relaxing in the tub
Thinking everything was alrightWell, I stepped out the tub, put my feet on the floor
I wrapped the towel around me
And I opened the door, and then a
Splish, splash, I jumped back in the bath
Well, how was I to know there was a party going on?They was a-splishing and a-splashing
Reeling with the feeling
Moving and a-grooving
Rocking and a-rolling, yeah

Bing bang, I saw the whole gang
Dancing on my living room rug, yeah
Flip flop, they was doing the bop
All the teens had the dancing bug

There was Lollipop with-a Peggy Sue
Good golly, Miss Molly was-a even there, too
A-well-a, splish splash, I forgot about the bath
I went and put my dancing shoes on, yeah

I was a rolling and a-strolling
Reeling with the feeling
Moving and a-grooving
Splishing and a-splashing, yeah

Yes, I was a-splishing and a-splashing
I was a-rolling and a-strolling
Yeah, I was a-moving and a-grooving
We was a-reeling with the feeling
We was a-rolling and a-strolling
Moving with the grooving
Splish splash, yeah

Mm, splishing and a-splashing, one time
I was a-splishing and a-splashing, ooh wee
I was a-moving and a-grooving, yeah
I was a-splishing and a-splashing

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Oldies Musics

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.