PRETTY LITTLE BABY by CONNIE FRANCIS. Tribute by Lucia Nardo.

Altona, Australia, July  2025.

The news item that announced her passing felt like a physical blow. But what did I expect? Eighty-

seven, her angelic voice now retired, she was still strong – a rape survivor, her brother murdered by the mafia, her voice once almost lost permanently after a surgery – but dignified through it all, she was never forgotten. The music and lyrics to many of her recordings rolled across my mind like a red carpet welcoming my memories.

Connie Francis was my queen of song. Yes, the competition for the crown is stiff: Aretha, Celine, Adele, Tina, Amy, Sinéad. The list of nominees is endless, but, of all these wonderfully talented women, none lifts my heart quite like Connie does.

In my formative years, a battered AWA radio broadcast her songs throughout our home. The tunes became embedded further in my memories thanks to Dad adding them to his accordion repertoire. If I had to commit to a favourite track, I don’t think I could. Each song was recorded with perfect diction, yet the sound of her emotions caught in the microphone. You can’t miss the yearning in her voice on ‘Where the Boys Are’ and ‘Three Coins in the Fountain’, or the elation of finding love on ‘April Love’ and ‘You Belong to My Heart’, and there’s the pain of loss on ‘Among My Souvenirs’ and ‘Return to Sorrento’. Every one of Connie’s songs seemed to have been recorded in one effortless take. But, if forced to settle on a favourite, I’d have to nominate ‘Pretty Little Baby’.

Rediscovered by a generation that’s an entire alphabet away from my ‘baby boomer’ label, the song is catchy, sweet, and uplifting. You can’t help but bounce about to the music and echo the lyrics. It’s a testimony to the longevity of songs that scream ‘JOY!’.

TikTok is the new vehicle for Connie’s resurgence. I neither tik nor tok but I take delight in knowing that the song, recorded 63 years ago, is now on the lips of kids who appreciate this gift from the past. I think about my granddaughters – my own pretty little babies – singing and dancing along. Through it we are forever tied together by our own memories of the song.

So, ciao, Concetta Rosa Maria Franconero. Thank you for the fun, happiness, and tenderness of your music and for the ballads, that like sirens, always call me to slow-dance with my husband.

Stereo Story 852

See also Lucia’s story about Italian Lullaby