RIP Tony Bennett: It's a Family Affair

 

     I’m saddened at the recent death of singer/activist Tony Bennett at age 95, both as a fan and for the family affair connections he created for many years.

     My late father Edward introduced me to Bennett’s music more than 50 years ago; a major big band jazz fan, with Stan Kenton his holy grail, dad's favorite male vocalists, at least from what little he would say in his usual secret way but introduced to me playing them on weekends, seemed to be Frank Sinatra and Bennett. No doubt partly for this reason as well as really liking their music, particularly the 1940s-mid-1960s, they became my favorite male jazz vocalists (I’m willing to be enlightened of others). There is something they could do with a melody and rhythm, and the use of dynamics and subtlety and/or taste both Sinatra and Bennett used are needed more today.

     While I thank my father for the introduction to these two singers, my late mother Sheila is a former fan of Bennett, although I kind of believed she never really stopped liking him. But every time my father would play his music for me, or any time Bennett appeared on television, mom would loudly launch into her mostly staged anger at how she used to love his music and was a favorite, but did I forget he up and left his first wife for a younger woman and that people just didn’t do that and that she couldn’t listen to his music any more. Of course, I frequently heard her singing “Fly Me to the Moon” and “I Left my Heart in San Francisco” while cooking or other activities, sometimes even dancing a bit while she sang.

     I was thrilled when Bennett made a serious comeback in his 60s, first with his tribute to the music of Fred Astaire, “Steppin’ Out,” but as no surprise, my favorite of his later albums was “Perfectly Frank,” a gorgeous, heartfelt and wonderful album of Sinatra songs. His version of “East of the Sun, West of the Moon” would be amazing at any age. The fact that Bennett, a World War II veteran, was busted in rank because he ate meals and fraternized with African American soldiers, and later joined the Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. on his voting rights march from Selma to Montgomery, Alabama, shows he was more than a singer.

     The first night after the announcement of Bennett’s death, I spent hours listening to his music, starting with the classic “I Left My Heart in San Francisco” album, and even listened to his Christmas album on a hot July night, thinking about the singer, my mother and father. I hope l always think of them when I hear Bennett’s music.