Bennett fans overdo it at SPAC

by Matthew Maguire, The Knickerbocker News, August 12, 1980

Any professional musician, whether a Las Vegas star or a weekend wedding-band hack, will call a responsive, enthusiastic audience part of a good gig.

But, in both Las Vegas and the firehouse banquet hall, munisians agree that an overenthusiastic audience can just as easily take something away from an otherwise fine performance.

Even Tony Bennett is not immune. His otherwise superb two-set show Monday at the Saratoga Performing Arts Center was marred by some well-intentioned excesses — and some downright rudeness — by a small crowd of ardent Bennett fans.

It is Bennett’s sense of dynamics, and not his voice, that makes him great. Others awe audiences with voices of sheer beauty.

Bennett must work hard to create new music with the old songs he sings, whether by using atypical tempi or unusual accompaniment, or phrasing so different from the “standard” version that the careless listener loses track of the structure of the song.

In short, Bennett’s voice is not merely a means of reciting lyrics, but rather a musical instrument with which those lyrics are played. Thus, one has to listen hard to Bennett to truly appreciate his work.

Alas, too few did that Monday.

The first set, featuring only Bennett and the Ralph Sharon trio, would have worked beautifully in a cozy nightclub, but it packed too little punch to grab and keep the audience’s attention. As if the rudeness of some latecomers wasn’t enough, off-beat handclaps and inane shouts from would-be hipsters hampered the singer’s delicate touch.

As Bennett eased into a somber “Body and Soul,” someone shouted something like, “Sing it, Tony!” — to which he angrily replied, “What the hell do you think I’m doing?”

He then laughed it off, and all was forgiven, but, incredibly, the audience refused to take the hint.

Later, when the audience began clapping everywhere but on the right beat, Bennett quipped: “I feel like Tony Orlando.” Whatever that was supposed to mean, it worked. The clapping stopped.

In the second set, featuring Sharon’s trio with a large strings-and-brass orchestra, Bennett had better luck, probably because he had enough power to grab the audience.

Bennett transcended it all. On bright tunes such as “This Can’t Be Love,” “All of You,” “There’ll Be Some Changes Made,” “Don’t Get Around Much Any More” and “There Will Never Be Another You,” and, in particular, ballads such as “Solitude” (sung in duet with a warm trombone) and “My Funny Valentine” (accompanied brilliantly by the solo bassist), Bennett’s dynamic touch was there to be appreciated by anyone who listened carefully.

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