BBC Review
A warm and generous introduction to the man known as the Chairman of the Board
Chris Jones 2008-05-07
Released to mark the 10th anniversary of the demise of Francis Albert Sinatra, this is the first of what will undoubtedly be a plethora of reissues, rarities and assorted merchandising ventures. However, as with Elvis, it's hard to bemoan such blatant catalogue squeezing when the man at the centre of it is such an immense presence in modern history.
Of course, Mr Ring-A-Ding's status has been boosted over the last few years by the rediscovery of the so-called 'Rat Pack' by a younger generation. While the oleaginous croonings of Dean Martin (or the acting skills of Peter Lawford) may not withstand such endless repackaging, Sinatra always will be a safe bet. For anyone yet to taste the exquisite joys of the coolest swinger in town, Nothing But The Best does its introductory job very well. But when it comes to the title itself, we're perhaps on shaky ground.
The reason? Well by 1960 Frank, finally elevated to the star bracket that he always knew he was born to inhabit, had fallen out of love with the corporate machinery of Capitol Records; the label that made him more than the bobbysoxxers' idol. In a bold move presaging the behaviour of many 70s rock acts, he decided that he'd simply form his own label. Thus Reprise Records was born. This compilation comes from that period. And while it's all good stuff it lacks the edge of his earlier work.
However, to say the label was vanity project would be woefully inaccurate. Frank was always a consummate professional. He was also a man who loved to make records. Indeed he almost single-handedly redefined the role of the singer in the age of electricity by his peerless delivery in front of a studio microphone. Not only that but he knew his arrangers as well. Thus the compiliation is chock-full of legendary names who always gave nothing but their best. Nelson Riddle, Billy May, Quincy Jones, Gordon Jenkins and Billy Strange: these are people who were hired for their innate understanding of the level of performance that Frank wanted to achieve. So, while none of these sides approach the mastery of Frank's defining Capitol years, they still include some amazing moments. My Way, Strangers In The Night, Somethin' Stupid (with daughter, Nancy), It Was A Very Good Year, That's Life - all stand tall in the Sinatra canon. And for the completist there's even a serviceable unreleased version of Body And Soul, not to mention a DVD of his 1971 Royal Festival Hall appearance.
As stated, this makes for a warm and generous introduction to the man known as the Chairman of the Board in his later years. But anyone who already knows what makes Frank tick needs to take themselves back a decade or so, and immerse themselves in some of the 20th century's finest music.
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SINATRAS WORLD
Dean Martin once said, Its Franks world, we just live in it.
Ten years after his death, the tributes are still coming in. Last week, the Post Office issued a new stamp in his honor. Sinatra on a stamp its like Madonna on Metamucil.
I was fortunate enough to see him in concert. For over an hour, he stood center stage, doing what he did best sing. Toward the end, he did a song that surprised everyone Ole Man River. He hadnt sung it in many years, and most people thought he couldnt sing it any longer. The song had special meaning for him since legend has it that Louis B. Mayer, the head of MGM, heard him sing it at a Hollywood party and immediately signed him to a movie contract on the theory that if a skinny Italian-American kid from Hoboken, NJ could sing a song about a robust down-trodden African-American from the South as well as that he must be a great actor. Sinatra did not disappoint that night at the Spectrum, hitting every note of a difficult song with his usual blend of power and vulnerability.
Absent issuing your stamp in tribute, I suggest you turn off the cell phone, shut down the laptop, pour yourself a favorite beverage and sit down to listen to one of his albums. Not some random selection of Sinatra hits, but a real album, meant to be experienced form beginning to end. One of the Concept albums from the 50s or 60s like Only The Lonely. Youll hear a man wonder where his Angel Eyes has gotten to, sing the blues In the night and hang his tears out to dry. Youll enter a world where the time is always 2:45 in the morning, where the music is always easy and sad, where a man could tell you a lot if you could only break the code, a man who is a kind of a poet who knows you dont have a lot of time to listen, but who has to tell you his story or explode yes, thats it a man who sings like he has to sing you this song, tell you this story or hell explode. Enter the world of Frank Sinatra.
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