you're a film noir detective | a vintage jazz playlist

Doesn't matter how old you are, it's always necessary to stand up and put your hand to your chin, looking up to nothing, while having a 14 minute long inner monologue

"Babe please stop! You're not a 1940s LA private investigator!"

She walked in, her perfume a promise of broken faith, of troubles untold. Irresistible she was, and she damn well knew it. It was at that moment, I knew my heart would lead to my damnation.

Smokey. Everything about her was smokey. Her eyes were easiest to point out. Covered in a thick layer of shadow that stretched itself from black to blue as it coated the edges of her eyelids. Her lips were another. Red lined in black wrapped around the end of a barely cigarette you'd been watching her smoke to the very last of it's life. Her breath was smokey-- from the cigarette. But even without it you could have sworn that something about her was being run through a thick layer of fabric. Her voice, gravely and torn up by tears, barely managed to push through a cough as she took another drag. "You'll-- oh, you'll have to forgive me detective. I am positively torn up about the whole thing." Disheveled was the usual word for it. It was the word you'd use after you watched the poor thing break into fit after fit of sobs. You remembered every second-- every stretched out shiver and every shift of her posture. You knew she was lying, you'd been sure as soon as you saw her sit. But you also knew the business. You'd be nothing without evidence. Even worse, you'd be nothing if you couldn't pay for the studio office you'd been running operations out of for the past six months. "That's alright miss, you won't be torn up much longer." Her eyes shot up from the floor where they'd been resting. You could use the money if she hired you. Take the case, catch her in the act, and maybe get the added bonus of your picture in the papers. "I'll find out who killed your husband." Her face lit up with a joy reserved for confident criminals and kids on Christmas. "Oh, thank you Detective! Oh I promise it'll pay well-- however much you need. I won't be able to rest until that-- that monster is put away." You watched her dab a handkerchief at the corner of her eye, just enough to keep her smokey makeup perfectly out of place. "Neither will I, ma'am. Neither will I."

Ah yes, a sound track for my desire to be a 1940’s detective✨

sometimes i just wanna get a taste of what its like to be live in the 40s and 50s.

Damn! I’m in love with this channel. You seem to know exactly what type of music to put in a playlist for these sort of videos unlike others that have the title “noir 1949” but have Lady Gaga poker face as the first song playing 💀

It looked like rain, so I got up to close the window. That guy on the sidewalk was still playing his sax. He was good, but I had heard enough for one day. When I turned back to my desk, she was already standing in front of it. "Can I help you?", I said. "No, Mr. Starker, I'm here to help you.", she whispered. "You placed a Want Ad for a secretary in today's paper. I'd like to apply for the position." "Cookie, you can have any position you want." I replied, "You're hired as of now. And from now on, call me Mick." "Oh, thank you Mr, uh, Mick." she squealed, "You don't know how happy this makes me." "Sit down, sugar, pour yourself a drink. We've got all night to get to know each other. And you don't know how happy this'll make me!", I said as I removed my tie. That's when the phone rang. That's when it all started to go sideways. Who could've figured that she'd wind up dead, and I'd be sitting in a jail cell talking to you?

As a noir fan & enjoyer this is one of the greatest thing i ever listened

Ah, a playlist to match my "1950s Detective" style.

My mind raced as i flipped through through the neverending tunes of the old country that had seemed to elude me every step of my very short lived life. And as i began to lose hope and thought of hanging the old gig i found a cassette hidden between the lines of the old war, and well......thats when the story really began

Dark rainy night and Mr. Whiskers had been hitting the milk a little too hard. Ah, heartache makes all of us drown our sorrows. (A cat in a fedora leaves the office on wobbly legs)

The sweet sounds of old, I need to revisit some ancient movies my grandad left behind, this just reminds me of the movie nights we used to have. Please keep going with this music, it keeps my memories flowing back😁

this is what i hear when my grandparents said how my great grandpa always wore tuxedo and a fedora on and smokes from a pipe all the time back then and i admire him because of how snazzy he is

I’m a 2010s kid but I freakin love early 1950s to mid 1970s jazz

from the start this playlists feels so gooood and calm. Thank you for this <3 now i am going to clean my room and read a crime :D

Another great playlist, thank you! I LOVE everything Noir❣️

Thank god this appeared I love Noir so much.

Gotta love that jazz!!!!

What i needed now in my life