Julie London / Lonely Girl / 1956
What'll I Do?
wistful, subdued melancholy verging on quiet desolation
This is Irving Berlin's 1924 standard rendered as a hushed torch ballad, with Julie London's deadpan contralto turning what could be maudlin into something restrained and aching. The song is built almost entirely around a single unanswered question, repeated until the repetition itself becomes the point.
heartbreak and abandonment loneliness the inadequacy of memory and objects as substitutes for a person romantic finality emotional paralysis
Who's speaking
A first-person speaker addresses an absent former lover directly, though the address is really rhetorical -- there's no expectation of reply. The voice is sincere rather than ironic, though London's cool vocal delivery adds a layer of weary self-awareness to the plainness of the lyric.
What happens
The song opens with a brief acknowledgment that the relationship is over and irreparable, then abandons narrative almost entirely in favor of stasis: the speaker doesn't move through stages of grief so much as circle the same unanswerable question, each repetition substituting a new, smaller object of focus -- the ex's new companions, a photograph, unfulfilled dreams -- without ever resolving into an answer.
How it's built
A short verse sets the scene of a broken romance, then gives way to a refrain-dominated structure typical of Tin Pan Alley ballads: the title question recurs like a tic, varied only by what follows it. There's no bridge that offers escape or change of perspective -- the song simply loops, which formally enacts the speaker's inability to move forward.
Section by section
Opening verse
“broken and cannot be mended”
The verse functions as exposition, stating flatly that the romance is over and irreversible. The image of something shattered beyond repair sets a tone of finality that the rest of the song never contradicts or complicates -- there's no bargaining stage here, only aftermath.
First refrain
The title question appears for the first time, paired with the simple admission of sadness and distance. Its simplicity is almost childlike, which is part of its effectiveness -- grief here isn't eloquent, it's repetitive and plain.
Second refrain
The speaker's imagination turns toward jealousy, picturing the former partner with someone else. This is the song's only gesture toward a developing storyline, and it's handled with restraint rather than melodrama.
Photograph refrain
“just a photograph to tell my troubles to”
The introduction of the photograph marks the song's emotional center -- it's a small, static substitute for a living relationship, and the absurdity of confiding in an image underscores just how isolated the speaker has become.
Closing refrains
The song ends not with resolution but with repetition of the same material, including the photograph and the acknowledgment that hoped-for reunion won't happen. The repeated return to the title question after the final verse enacts the speaker's inability to move past the loss.
Craft
- anaphora
- The repeated opening question drives the entire refrain, turning a simple interrogative into an emotional refrain that mimics obsessive rumination.
- rhetorical question
- The title phrase is never answered; its function isn't to seek information but to express helplessness, making the absence of resolution part of the song's meaning.
- synecdoche
- A photograph stands in for the entire lost relationship, a small object asked to carry the full weight of the speaker's grief and confided troubles.
- understatement
- The language throughout is simple and unadorned -- no elaborate metaphors for the breakup -- which lets the plainness of the question carry more weight than ornate description would.
Reading it
The most persuasive reading treats the song's repetitiveness as formally mimetic: the speaker is stuck, and the lyric's refusal to develop or resolve is not a structural weakness but the point -- grief recycles the same thoughts rather than progressing neatly. An alternative, less charitable reading is that this is simply conventional Tin Pan Alley ballad construction, where repetition serves commercial and melodic needs (giving singers a memorable, recurring hook) rather than being a deliberate expressive choice. Both readings can coexist; the song's enduring power across many interpretations suggests the formal repetition works regardless of original intent.
Context
Irving Berlin wrote this song in 1923-1924, reportedly around the time of his own romantic disappointment, and it became a standard covered by countless vocalists across jazz and pop. London's 1956 version appears on an album called Lonely Girl, itself suggesting a thematic concept built around solitude and lost love, consistent with her reputation as a torch singer specializing in understated, smoky renditions of standards. I don't have specific details about the recording session or arrangement choices for this particular track.
Listen for
- How London's vocal restraint plays against the lyric's potential for melodrama -- note any moments where she underplays rather than emphasizes the emotional peaks
- The sparse arrangement typical of her torch recordings, likely built around minimal instrumentation to foreground the voice
- The way repeated phrases are varied subtly in phrasing or emphasis each time they recur, rather than sung identically
- The brief verse at the start versus how much longer the song dwells in the refrain -- what that balance suggests about where the emotional weight lies
- Any rubato or tempo flexibility that lets the question linger unresolved rather than resolving rhythmically
About Julie London
Julie London was an American singer and actress whose career spanned more than 40 years. A torch singer noted for her contralto voice, London recorded over thirty albums of pop and jazz standards between 1955 and 1969.
1926 - 2000 / United States
Full biography and catalogue