Tony Bennett comes to the Christchurch Town Hall 12th March

When Tony Bennett sings the phrase " I wish that we were young and foolish again" at the end of the song "Young and Foolish" he gives a kind of ecstatic shout. Nothing restrained or held in reserve. All out there - the cards on the table.

The last of the great "Saloon Singers" visited Christchurch New Zealand to play one concert at the Town Hall on March 12th. At 73 years of age Bennett knows what makes a good song, and as recent recordings and a brand-new following amongst the 'young' attest, he can demonstrate it with uncommon artistry. Some of the top notes may have lost a bit of their lustre, but the heart of the matter - the art of the telling the story through song has, if anything, deepened and grown richer.

Anthony Benedetto was born into an Italian Family in 1926 in Astoria, New York. As a young serviceman Bennett sang with the US Army's entertainment unit late in World War II. Upon his discharge he worked in clubs before joining Pearl Bailey's revue in Greenwich Village where he was spotted by Bob Hope, and engaged to sing in his Paramount show. In 1950 Tony Bennett successfully auditioned for Columbia Records, singing 'Boulevard Of Broken Dreams', and a year later topped the US chart with 'Because Of You'. His huge 1962 hit, the definitive version of " I Left My Heart in San Francisco" has become indelibly fused with the memory and myth of San Francisco as a city of magic and romance. (Doing for the Californian tourist trade the equivalent of what the Royal family have for British tourism.) That's what a song can do.

In an age of 'ersatz', more and more 'pop' singers are avariciously raiding the vaults of the Great American Songbook in search of a good tune and some decent lyrics. Gershwin, Cole Porter and the like, are seldom given their due by pop singers with limited musicianship and even less understanding of phrasing, or alternatively by Opera singers with over-developed voices and regimental rhythm intent on "crossing over". Tony Bennett shows us how it should be done. After 50 years in the business he's still refining and developing his craft.

Curiously, Bennett has few imitators. Unlike the soothing resonance and whispered intimacies of Sinatra's great ballad recordings, Bennett has a raw, sometimes edgy quality; too unique to copy. He's like a kid with a good gag - eager for you to get the punch line. There is a 'universal ordinariness' in his sound. It is this quality of 'everyman' that has endeared him to the hearts and psyche of American popular culture and kept him spinning out the hits with unfailing regularity. Whether the song is simple or sophisticated, whether the orchestrations are corny or classy, (and Bennett did them both ) he sings with vitality and passion about human emotions common to us all. Love, loss, sadness, joy. His singing possesses a kind of nervous fervour he has never lost. You feel he wants to let us all in on the magic. Like Sinatra, Nat King Cole, and Peggy Lee, he has successfully managed to straddle the tricky divide between pop songs and jazz; between and art and show business. In the 50's Bennett enjoyed international success with a string of hits, under the commercially astute but artistically dubious eye of A & R man Mitch Miller. But commercial success was not the main motivation for Bennett. He always sought to balance his work and did so with jazz luminaries Duke Ellington, Count Basie, and Bill Evans. Consequently he survived the fame and the success without ever compromising his musical integrity, or his audience.

His musical partnership with accompanist Ralph Sharon spans four decades and is characterised by an uncommonly high level of musical empathy. Any student of accompanying, be it classical or jazz should hear these two at work, if only to appreciate the heights that can be attained through musical understatement and the unerring ability to listen to each other.

For those of us momentarily seduced by the latest Bryan Ferry CD, sliding his English 'art-house' cool over the surfaces of a collection of superb American 'standards' - or the clever contrivances of the Gershwin remakes featuring pop princes, Elton John, Sting, George Michael and the like - Tony Bennett's concert was a rare, ( and dare we suggest it ) maybe the last, opportunity to hear the 'genuine article' in this part of the world.

Anyone who likes songs that you can actually hear the words of, sung by a man who has devoted his life to sharing them, will find the Bennett magic still very much intact. The highest praise came from Sinatra himself when he said " for my money, Tony Bennett is the best singer in the business!" It seems even more true than ever.

Malcolm McNeill - Saturday, 26 February 2000