| In the midst of some of the aural horrors that roar out of the radios 
        and the juke boxes these days, it is well to remember that Frank Sinatra 
        is one of the most successful vocal artists on record, the complete refutation 
        of the theory that if it's good, it won't sell. With Sinatra, it's good 
        and it does sell and like Picasso and Miles Davis and Duke Ellington and 
        very, very few others, the level of artistic consistency is remarkably 
        high. Some people have the giftto tell a story and make it memorable. Never 
        mind the words, they're dull when mouthed by someone else; never mind 
        the point, even, others will blunt it. It's the performance that counts. 
        Joe E. Lewis does this, W.C. Fields did it and Sinatra does it with a 
        song. It must be a wonderful feeling to be able, as Sinatra is, to flick on 
        the radio any hour of the day or night and within ten minutes hear one 
        of a legion of other singers pay the ultimate compliment of imitation. 
        When you do something so good that this can happen, you have laid it down 
        for the ages and done so in an art that is terrifying in its transilience. George Bernard Shaw once remarked that the ability to take liberties 
        was the secret of success in private life. A singer's public appearances 
        are are a private life between him and his audience and it is a testament 
        to Sinatra's supreme capabilities that he constantly takes liberties which 
        make it. Listen to the low tones he gets on "Easy To Love," 
        hear the way he comes in on "When I Take My Sugar To Tea," listen 
        to his pronunciation on "A Fine Romance." The tempos and the phrasing, both done with ease and naturalness, are 
        once again present in the form that has made his style strong enough for 
        a dozen others to carve careers for themselves within its outlines. One 
        of the aspects of this style, which must make playing in the accompanying 
        band such a ball, is its sheer musicianship. A good musician sings on 
        his instrument; Sinatra sings as though he were a strong, mellow horn. 
        There are few better examples of this musicianship than the delightful 
        way in which the trumpet of Don Fagerquist fits with Sinatra's voice to 
        form a perfect interplay of lines in "A Foggy Day." And with 
        the mention of Fagerquist, it should be noted that Sinatra's recording 
        dates, ever since he gained his recording liberty and has had control 
        of them, have always included enough hard core jazz musicians to give 
        even his sweetest singing a slight jazz flavor. Earlier I remarked that the radio offers the flattery of imitation to 
        Sinatra by the hour. It also offers additional proof, if that were needed, 
        of his creative individuality. Coast down the dial and catch a vocal; 
        two bars and you'll know if it's Sinatra. Who else could come on intimate 
        and soft, as he does in "When I Take My Sugar To Tea," and yet 
        remain as absolutely masculine as Rocky Marciano? Singing a popular ballad, 
        with that indefinable touch of insinuating charm, is a tight rope to walk. 
        A little too far to one side and the effect collapses into a very unmasculine 
        impression. That question never arises with Sinatra. The hard glare of publicity and the ravages of the cult of personality 
        in our society wrecks many artists. They have to be strong and their art 
        has to be strong and vital to survive. The great process of mass popularity 
        and mass culture has a vicious tendency to demean art. When you appeal 
        to the mass, you usually appeal to the least common denominator. Once 
        again, it is a tribute to Sinatra that he does not do this and never has. 
        He is the living proof that quality has a place in the mass society. And 
        in some mystical way, perhaps, his success with quality is a reaffirmation 
        of the basic positive good of life itself. A word about the accompaniment on this album: The trumpet on 
        "A Foggy Day" and "Easy To Love" is Don Fagerquist; 
        on "A Fine Romance" it is John Anderson. Bill Miller is the 
        pianist heard on "Be Careful, It's My Heart," Emil Richards 
        is the vibraphonist on "I've Got My Love To Keep Me Warm" and 
        Bud  Shank (flute) and Frank Rosolino (trombone) are heard on "You 
        And The Night And The Music." Johnny Mandel, one of the very best of the young crop of jazz-based arrangers 
        and conductors, leads the band and wrote the arrangements for most of 
        the songs. A native New Yorker, he studied under Stefan Wolpe and at Juilliard, 
        has played trombone with many bands including Jimmy Dorsey and Count Basie 
        and is the composer of several well known jazz numbers, including "Not 
        Really The Blues," "Straight Life," "Pot Luck" 
        and "Hershey Bar." Ralph J. Gleason, 1961,San Fransisco Chronicle and Times-Mirror Syndicate.
 
 Ring-A-Ding Ding! (1961)Reprise 9 46933-2 Ring-A-Ding DingLet's Fall In Love
 Be Careful, It's My Heart
 A Foggy Day
 A Fine Romance
 In The Still Of The Night
 The Coffee Song
 When I Take My Sugar To Tea
 Let's Face The Music And Dance
 You'd Be So Easy To Love
 You And The Night And The Music
 I've Got My Love To Keep Me Warm
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        Ding! from Amazon.co.uk. |