Accentuate the Positive: the swinging music that carried us through hard times

If the world feels a little crazy right now—you’re not the only one noticing. It seems like every headline is a new crisis: political fights, economic rollercoasters, non-stop health scares. It’s enough to make anyone want to unplug (which admittedly is not a bad idea because it would prevent our doomscrolling). Do you want to know what’s equally as crazy? We’ve been through this before (sort of).

Let’s take a little trip back to 1944. The world was in turmoil: World War II raged, with the Allies fighting their way through Normandy and preparing for the Battle of the Bulge. Glenn Miller, the beloved bandleader, disappeared over the English Channel while flying to France to entertain the troops. And if that wasn’t enough, New York City (not Los Angeles but New York!) got rattled by a 5.9 earthquake.

Also around that time a new song hit the airwaves: “Accentuate the Positive,” written by Johnny Mercer and Harold Arlen, and sung by Bing Crosby. Its message was simple—keep your chin up, focus on what’s good, and don’t let the world drag you down. For people around the country, it was more than a catchy tune—it was an inspiring pep talk.

The Healing Power of Music

From the trenches of World War I to the breadlines of the Great Depression, through prohibition, pandemics, and yet another world war, music found a way to comfort, connect, and distract us. The tunes were clever but genuine, heartfelt but not sappy. They made sense of the chaos or at least made us feel like we didn’t have to face it alone.

Big Band musician Glenn Miller

These songs, now part of what we call The Great American Songbook, told stories we all recognized—about soldiers heading off to war, or asking a stranger to spare a dime. And that one universal, unshakable, unpredictable human experience that confounds all of us: love.

The Songbook overflowed with it: "Let’s Fall in Love," "Taking a Chance on Love," "Almost Like Being in Love," "Love for Sale." Whether you were falling in love, falling out of love, wondering if love would ever show up, or even through with it, there was a song about it. These writers captured the high highs and the low lows and set it music.

The Social Media of Its Time

You had to be there—literally. Before TikTok, before playlists, before algorithms that kept showing you funny cat videos, popular songs were how people connected. For excitement, there was the neighborhood dance hall, the local bandstand, or just the family piano. Sharing music meant playing it together, listening as a group, and feeling like you were a part of something. These songs connected people across the country, helping them share hopes and worries without even realizing it.

Sure, the medium has changed. Now it’s Bluetooth speakers and earbuds instead of wind-up record players. But what hasn’t changed is the power of music to bring people together (even if it’s virtually) and remind us that we’re not alone.

A Full-Circle Moment (that started at a kitchen table)

Fast-forward to the spring of 2020. Everything’s cancelled. The streets are empty. Kids are using Zoom for school (if they’re lucky). Everyone is washing their groceries and making sourdough bread. For Jazz at the Ballroom, we’re facing the realization that live music is paused indefinitely, musicians are stuck at home with nowhere to play, and we have no idea how long this will last.

We’re sitting in the kitchen which, if you can believe it, was in a house that once belonged to Bing Crosby. That makes what happened next sound even more contrived. But it really happened, and we took it as not just a coincidence. It was a sign! Because right when everything felt the most uncertain, what should start playing on Pandora but (you probably guessed it) “Accentuate the Positive.”

Call it serendipity, or fate, or proof of Bing’s great sense of timing. Whatever it was, it sparked an idea: if this music helped people through tough times before, maybe it could help again. If this was 1944, we would have started making operator-assisted calls. But since it was 2020, we emailed. We wrote to musicians we knew in cities all around the country (and a few in other countries)

Our original album cover (2021)

The idea was simple: we wanted each of them to pick two tunes from that golden era (1918-1945) and we would record them.

It was a logistical nightmare. Public transportation was a ghost town. Recording studios were shuttered studios. Artists had fled the city and gone back to their hometowns. But somehow, we got the album made. Musicians teamed up over Zoom. We pieced things together from whatever tracks they could send us. It was messy, low-tech, but full of heart—kind of like jazz itself.

By 2021, the album was done: Accentuate the Positive: a celebration of the music that kept America company. It was not only a tribute to the music, but to the resilience it represents—and the spirit of the people made it again, decades later.

Why These Songs Still Matter

Now, as the world tries to find its balance again, that music is about to get its moment on stage—a re-release of our album with new songs (recorded with musicians together in recording studios!) in 2025 and live shows in 2026. Accentuate the Positive: when the world felt heavy, the music felt light celebrates not just the songs, but the spirit behind them.

The tunes might be old, but they’re anything but outdated. They’re reminders of timeless feelings: hope, grit, joy, love, optimism, and not letting the bad times keep us down. It’s proof that, whatever time in history it is, people look for light. They find silver linings, wrap their troubles in dreams, and practice the fine art of picking themselves up and starting over again.

If you love old jazz, if you’re a history nerd, or if you’re just exhausted by today’s endless news cycle, this is for you. You’ll hear songs that kept people company during blackouts, losses, uncertainty and, yes, even a pandemic. They’re reminders that even in the hardest times, you can always swing, or croon, or maybe even laugh for a minute.

One Last Chorus

There’s something deeply comforting in all this, a sense that through all the chaos—past and present—some things endure. A handwritten (love??) letter. A little black dress. A camel hair coat. A well-made cocktail. And always, always, these songs.

The Great American Songbook isn’t just a collection of old tunes. It’s a playlist of the American spirit. Something to hum while the world figures out whatever mess it’s in next. Something that reminds us to keep moving forward—even if “moving forward” just means dancing in your kitchen for a few minutes.

We can’t wait to share these songs with you later this year. And if you take away one thing from our album, our concerts, and this blog post, let it be the chorus Johnny Mercer and Harold Arlen wrote so many decades ago, and Bing Crosby crooned to uncertain hearts everywhere: “You’ve got to accentuate the positive, eliminate the negative, latch on to the affirmative, and don’t mess with Mister In-Between.”

Sometimes, that really is all you need to keep going.