First of all, I am a Sinatra freak. Frank that is, not "These boots are made for walking" Nancy, although we did have the album.
I know it sounds odd, but it's true. You probably pictured me as a Led Zeppelin or the Stones or Nora Jones or The Subdudes or Luther or Clapton or Bonnie Raitt or the Neville Brothers or Maceo Parker or Shawn Colvin or that classic Jerseyite Springstein, and that could all be true. But there has always been something about Frank Sinatra, not for just an hour, not for just a day.
In addition, I must say this interest puzzles me. I mean why would I be attracted to a skirt chasing, booze guzzling, semi-hood crooner from Hoboken?
There must be something about the time period he represents?
Then, when I went to see "My Way" at the Merry Go Round with my parents, I was disappointed with the performance while they thoroughly enjoyed it. The costumes, the music and the staging transported them back.
"You know when you are watching something and suddenly you realize you are delighted," my dad said, "I didn't want it to end."
Also about half way through he let on that he had a crush on the girl in the hot pink cocktail dress. My mom said, "The one with the shrill voice?"
Meanwhile, I was looking for the Sinatra whisky voice, his sing-talking storytelling. That little bit of accent that is so familiar. People always said it was his phrasing. It took me a long time to understand this. It is a way to make lyrics so real that it is as if he is speaking to you. Well, to me.
I love live music, but to be Frank, I am thankful to be living in the age of recorded music.