[Dixielandjazz] Wrestling with Sinatra

[Steve Barbone]

Great guitarist, Good singer, Great stage presence, Good band, Great
material. The American Songbook is alive and well at Lincoln Center.
Those who enjoy American Songbook may want to check out the album.

Cheers,
Steve Barbone

Wrestling With Sinatra, but It¹s a Very Friendly Fight

John Pizzarelli The guitarist and singer performed at the Allen Room on
Saturday, backed by a 17-piece band. The concert was part of Lincoln
Center¹s American Songbook series.

NY TIMES - By STEPHEN HOLDEN - February 6, 2007

Sooner or later, every man who sings standards has to wrestle with the ghost
of Frank Sinatra. And on Saturday evening at the Allen Room as part of
Lincoln Center¹s American Songbook series, it was John Pizzarelli¹s turn.

This gifted guitarist and singer with deep roots in traditional jazz
recently released a likable tribute album, ³Dear Mr. Sinatra² (Telarc),
recorded with the Clayton-Hamilton Jazz Orchestra. On Saturday he performed
much of that album with an excellent 17-piece big band that kicked out with
a brawling, Count Basie-like exuberance minus the Count¹s jet-propelled
piano signature. 

In almost every way imaginable except one, Mr. Pizzarelli is Sinatra¹s
temperamental opposite. Where Sinatra projected intense emotional heat at
all times, Mr. Pizzarelli is innately cool, sly and playful in the mode of
his biggest influence, Nat King Cole. From the mid-1950s onward, Sinatra
injected pop singing with deepening shades of menace, hostility, arrogance,
self-pity and depression. Mr. Pizzarelli is fundamentally a nice guy. Any
rage or sorrow he may feel is diverted into humor. Even singing that
cry-in-your-beer standard, ³One for My Baby,² on Saturday, he remained the
casual cool cat, shrugging off the blues as he leaves the bar to hit ³that
long, long road.² ³In the Wee Small Hours of the Morning,² a Sinatra cry
from the dark night of the soul, was relaxed into a languid, easygoing swing
ballad. 

Mr. Pizzarelli is a great comic storyteller and mimic whose verbal precision
almost matches his dexterity as a high-speed finger-picker who scats in
unison with his guitar solos. At the second of Saturday¹s two shows, he
recalled his first backstage meeting with Sinatra, for whom he opened some
European dates. He described Sinatra¹s famous blue eyes as having the color
and intensity of searing blue flames on gas jets. The five words Sinatra
spoke to him he remembered with amusement: ³Eat something. You look bad.²

Where the two singers share common ground is in their fundamental rhythmic
confidence. Mr. Pizzarelli swings naturally in a light, crooning voice that
suggests a more nasal offshoot of Cole in his early trio days. The harder he
swings, the better he sounds. The high point of Saturday¹s concert was a
rendition of ³Yes Sir, That¹s My Baby² that exploded with enthusiasm and
excitement. 

The kind of joy that effuses from Mr. Pizzarelli seems to come as naturally
as breathing. His last three words to the audience summed it up: ³Music is
good.²