Reprinted from http://jazzwax.com
In the Wall Street Journal this week, I interview Tony Bennett on his new album—The Silver Lining: The Songs of Jerome Kern—with pianist Bill Charlap (go here). The album is terrific—both for the way in which Tony works his way inside songs and takes chances and for Bill's orchestral playing approach behind Tony. By the way, on the album, Bill plays solo behind Tony, in duet with his wife, Renee Rosnes, and with his trio—bassist Peter Washington and drummer Kenny Washington. All tracks are sublime.
As always, it was great seeing Tony again at his art studio high above Central Park. He had just come back from a restful, month-long vacation in a Western state. After seven months touring worldwide with Lady Gaga, the kick-back was well deserved. He said he spent much of it painting while listening to Nat King Cole and Frank Sinatra records.
When we sat down on his blue couch to talk, I asked Tony how it felt to be a superstar—for the second time—what he thinks of his voice today and whether he feels he's overdoing it at age 89. As you'll see, it's a candid conversation, and Tony was transparent and revealing.
At one point, Tony and I were talking about his ability to take vocal risks in the studio. I pointed out that most singers were afraid of doing what he's routinely comfortable doing. His response was so fast and pure Tony: "Well, that's their problem," adding a laugh with this big smile. That's Tony—kind, gracious and courteously competitive.
And from an interviewer's standpoint, there's nothing quite like Tony's hand landing on top of yours gently to make a point during a conversation. When that happens, you feel the history of American popular music in one tap and the beat of his heart. Here's one of my favorite tracks off the new album, with the Bill Charlap Trio...
Also in the WSJ this week...
My "Anatomy of a Song" interview with Roger Waters on the writing and recording of Another Brick in the Wall, Part 2 (go here). I loved this song when it came out in 1980. A fascinating interview with a controversial figure whom I found to be especially insightful and who always thinks theatrically about music and on a massive scale. If you can, go see Roger Waters The Wall, his new concert-documentary film showing for one night only on Sept. 29. I was blown away.
Judge Judy and I chatted for my "House Call" column that appears in the paper's Mansion section (go here). Born in Brooklyn, Judy is as funny as Joan Rivers or Don Rickles and smart as a whip. She had me roaring. Judy remembers every detail of what she experienced and what goes on around her. It's quite remarkable. And you'll never believe what motivated her to become a judge or how she wound up on TV. [Photo above of Judith Sheindlin on the Los Angeles set of her ‘Judge Judy’ TV show, by Amanda Friedman for The Wall Street Journal]
I've always loved surf rock—not the Jan and Dean stuff but the records put out by independent labels in the early '60s that featured lots of guitars and a strong snare-drum beat. This week, I wrote an essay on the genre for the Arts in Review section (go here). Here's a taste...
"From the start, surf rock expressed daring and cool, becoming a wailing counterweight to recordings by the era’s girl groups and teen idols who sang mostly about dating and seduction. Though there were a few female surf-rock guitarists—including Kathy Marshall and Chiyo Ishi, and bands such as the Surf Bunnies and the Honeys—much of the music was made by and for restless males.
"Unlike R&B and rock ’n’ roll of the 1950s, surf rock didn’t express the joy and angst of relationships. At its core, surf rock was the blues of privilege—the yearning sound of Southern California’s suburban youth who already fit in, enjoyed perfect year-round weather and had access to cars, dates and the beach. To many of the country’s teens, California’s Orange County was imagined as an outdoor nirvana."
"Unlike R&B and rock ’n’ roll of the 1950s, surf rock didn’t express the joy and angst of relationships. At its core, surf rock was the blues of privilege—the yearning sound of Southern California’s suburban youth who already fit in, enjoyed perfect year-round weather and had access to cars, dates and the beach. To many of the country’s teens, California’s Orange County was imagined as an outdoor nirvana."
And finally, my chat with comedian Brian Regan, on why Afterglow by Genesis means so much to him. (go here).
What a week!
Used with permission by Marc Myers
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