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"Manilow Sings Sinatra." Let's
pretend that is a Jeopardy Clue and I have the correct question.
WHY?????????? Actually my pondering of that question is not the
usual knee-jerk expected response of why "Barry Manilow"
sings ANYTHING. Despite the fact that he has now achieved an
iconic status as a purveyor of garbage pop, the man IS talented.
(And be honest, how many of you that slay Barry in public have
secretly wailed along with "Mandy" in the car, and
had the modulation cause your hair to stand on end, or have secretly
boogied along in your house if your local "mix" station
happens to play "Copacabana.") Still, despite such
talents, the marriage of this material to Mr. Manilow in this
collection of 12 standards made famous by the Chairman of the
Board isn't exactly made in heaven. But it's not from the DEEPEST
circle of hell I am pleasantly suprised to say.
That should be welcome news to anyone who
had looked to the release of this album with anything approaching
pleasant anticipation, seeing that surely this album would be
(and already has been) universally trashed. There are actually
four tracks on the album that are pleasures to listen to, and
attractively done. (No, sorry. This short list does NOT include
the two new tracks Mr. Even-Now wrote himself to sort of "Bookend"
the middle 12 cuts.)
These two songs are massive failures, the
first "One Man In A Spotlight," starts out OK, but
is over before you realize it (Is it really a SONG if it lasts
less than 45 seconds?), and "Here's To The Man" is
just too mawkish to be taken as deadly seriously as I am sure
is intended. The pleasant surprises consist of an attractive,
moody take on "Angel Eyes, an actually wonderful take on
" All The Way," with a thrilling orchestration, a seemingly-clunky,
yet shockingly successful and bouncy, mini- medley of "Come
Fly With Me" and "Come Dance With Me," and a really
thrilling account, both vocally and musically, of "Strangers
In the Night," perhaps the most unkillable song on the CD.
But as for the rest of the album, we're back to the WHY? With
all this phenomenally complicated production, why is " I've
Got The World On a String" so horribly out of balance, with
its bass WAY too loud, and its brass WAY too raucous? There's
the same wacko balance on the overblown "In The Wee Small
Hours Of The Morning." Isn't this supposed to be a SAD song?
What is the deal with the incongruous and jolting tempo change
in "My Kind Of Town"?? And finally, why does Barry
make the GRAVE mistake of trying to SOUND like Frank on such
songs as the aformentioned "World On A String" and
"My Kind Of Town"? At least when Barry is trying to
take a NEW tack on some of these tunes you can give him SOME
credit for the attempt.
This whole album just seems like a bad
idea and a disaster waiting to happen. I cannot even ponder WHO
it is aimed at. It won't appeal to worshippers of Barry's cheeseball
achievements, and Sinatra worshippers would probably want to
use it for a coaster.
Which brings me to perhaps the most dangerous,
and to some SACRELIGIOUS, WHY? I have always been under the impression
Frank Sinatra was a legend because he was FRANK SINATRA. I mean,
the man seemingly TALKED songs rather than sang them. Therefore,
why on earth make a tribute to someone, when the someone being
tributed's effect was so UNIQUE??? If you know the answer to
any of these questions, then this album might float your boat.
If not, then I think you will end up being as perplexed as I
am. |
