by David EvanierReviewed by Paul PaolicelliTony Bennett is the longest-running act from the “greatest generation” of American popular singers. His career has spanned seven decades and his popularity is as strong today as it was when he was breaking into the public’s psyche with overly-emotive tunes like “Rags to Riches.” Not only a civil rights supporter, like Sinatra, but also an activist. A man who walked across the bridge in Selma and marched to
Birmingham to demand social change. A true mensch in many ways, but also a complete enigma to many who could never really get very close to this man. A man who, like Benny Goodman and Buddy Rich, seemed to take great delight in eviscerating his musicians after concerts, but would turn around and publically praise or financially help the least among them. A man filled with either humility or an incredible lack of self-confidence. A man quite possibly haunted by ghosts.
In his highly researched book, David Evanier tackles the Bennett complexities. It is no easy job. With Bennett, Evanier has to do double-duty since his early experiences were both intense and wide-ranging and, as he matured, he became more and more drawn into himself.
Perhaps the most formative event in Bennett’s life was World War Two. Unlike several other musicians of his generation, he didn’t serve as a performer; he was a dogface on the front lines. He served with the
U.S. Seventh Army in southern Germany, mopping up pockets of German resistance in closing days of the war. This action through Bavaria meant the liberation of concentration camps. Tony Bennett, Italian kid from Astoria Heights, saw firsthand at Dachau the ultimate degradation of human beings. Saw firsthand indescribable suffering, the images of which would stay with him for the rest of his life. And like most of his generation, he didn’t talk about it much when he came home.
Bennett tells several interviewers over the years that he started his musical career as a singing waiter and he would have been happy spending his entire life doing just that. Can the man really be that simple? The question infuses Evanier’s work. While there are times when he appears to have none of the ego associated with even lesser talents, one wonders if the humble approach isn’t the equivalent of Dean Martin’s drunk act. But time and again Evanier finds those fellow musicians and professional associates who talk about Bennett’s love of the music and joy of singing. Still, the reader is left wondering…
While not an Italian American, Evanier, a native New Yorker, has a clear and touching appreciation and understanding of the Italian American experience. He goes to great lengths to describe Bennett’s youth and the role of his family in his formation as a man and musician.
Tony Bennett was not exactly an overnight success, but this book makes it clear that his talent was evident early on and that, after a modicum of schooling (he dropped out of technical school to help support the family) and his war experiences, it didn’t take him very long to get down to the business of singing. From that point on he seems to have a miraculous way of bumping into the right people who take to him immediately and help him along. And, as Evanier makes quite clear, Bennett had and maintains an
unerring sense of the types of songs he could and should sing. Perhaps alone among the popular singers of his day, Bennett had an innate sense of quality and taste and, while the listener might dispute the interpretation of the song (especially in some of the early dramatic renditions), there’s no “Come On-a My House” tragedy in the entire discography. He remained true throughout his career to his musical and artistic compass. A man who insisted on returning to Jazz after each popular success. A man who has spent his life praising his own personal heroes—Louis Armstrong, Duke Ellington, Count Basie, Frank Sinatra, Ella Fitzgerald—and who speaks eloquently and often of their artistry and legacy. It’s clearly the music that drives him.
That is perhaps, Evanier’s greatest accomplishment with this book; he never leaves the music far behind. He describes in great detail the selections at the various times and over the course of countless recording sessions, the personnel (both musical and managerial), the highlights of the recordings and performances. He talks with hundreds of people who performed with Bennett, recorded with him, traveled with him, managed him; even with former lovers. It’s a valuable body of interviews and sourcing material.
Yet, despite all of that testimony, Tony Bennett remains a little unclear. Like his art, Bennet is colorful, dramatic, dissonant, bright, but there’s no photograph here; it’s strictly representational. This is not a deficiency of the biographer, but rather the completely illusive and evasive character that Evanier is dealing with. Evanier amasses an impressive array of first-person testimony that is often contradictory. Even the people who worked the closest with Bennett often say they don’t really know the man.
“All the Things You Are” is the perfect title for this book. Because, in the final analysis, Bennett is an awful lot of things. While no clear photograph emerges of this man and his art, a clear appreciation is the net result. Throughout, Evanier never loses his clearly articulated sense of wonder and love for Tony Bennett’s work.
Paul Paolicelli is the author of two acclaimed books about the Italian American experience: Dances With Luigi—a Barnes&Noble “Discover Great New Writers” selection and Los Angeles Times best seller—and Under the Southern Sun, a Sons of Italy recommended reading selection. Paolicelli is a veteran broadcast journalist who has managed television news departments and the Washington, D.C., bureau of the NBC television stations. The Rifftides staff is pleased to have him as a contributor.









The nonagenarian pianist presented de Barros with every biographer’s hope, unrestricted access to his subject’s personal papers and nearly unrestricted access to her private thoughts. He made the most of it, turning exhaustive research and hundreds of hours of interviews into a true story with the sweep of a novel. From the early discovery of McPartland’s musical gift through her wartime service, her ecstatic and stormy marriage to Jimmy McPartland, her growth as a pianist, her deep affair with Joe Morello, and the radio show that made her a national figure, she has had a fascinating life. It makes a splendid read.
Mulligan’s Concert Jazz Band had three fewer musicians than most big jazz outfits. Its size permitted precision, flexibility and subtlety, yet the band had the power of sprung steel. In this concert from a half century ago, the CJB is as fresh as yesterday. Arrangements by Mulligan, Bob Brookmeyer, Al Cohn and Johnny Mandel set standards to which big band writers still aspire. Bassist Buddy Clark and drummer Mel Lewis inspired Mulligan, Brookmeyer, Conte Candoli, Gene Quill and Zoot Sims to some of the best soloing of their careers. This beautifully produced issue of the complete concert is a basic repertoire item.
I had the good fortune of attending the 2012 Monterey Jazz Festival this past September. As usual the MJF had a stellar lineup. My fave attraction on the Saturday PM set on the Main Stage was seeing Pat Metheny & Jack DeJohnette perform together and wasn’t disappointed. After them Tony Bennett was the closer that night . I & my friends felt ‘why not?’ although vocals not really our cup of tea. Felt the old guy may be on his last leg, so let’s hang around. and see what he’s like these days.
From the first notes from Mr. Bennett,we, and thousands more, were astounded at his range and depth of his tremendous voice! We obviously knew about his class,warmth, and stage presence, but weren’t prepared for those pipes even at his current age! People (myself included) were looking around in stunned disbelief -all as if to say “Can you Believe this”!? On top of that, his backing band drives him constantly-no piano/fern bar set. No sir.
Needless to say his show was the most impressive, IMHO, of the 2012 MJF. Love ya Mr. Bennett. Wish there are more like you. I’d advise all to see him-he’s not slowing down one bit. Can’t wait to read the book.
Funny Mr. Evanier mentions “Come On-a My House” — Heard it on the radio in the past week (as a filler on a food discussion), for the first time in 30 years. It IS a piece of dreck, but what a hell of a performance!
Ms. Clooney seems to say “Oh, what the hell, let’s at least have fun with this”, and the accompaniment is driving… Just a quartet of Stan Freeman,harpsichord(!); Mundell Lowe, guitar; Frank Carroll bass and Jimmy Crawford on drums, but it swings!
Give it a listen and see if you agree: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uvUMAOO70mI
Mr. Evanier is undoubtedly referring to an anecdote in Clooney’s memoir in which she recalls hating that song so much that, after a heated argument, she was walking out on the recording session when Mitch Mitchell threatened to tear up her contract. The song revived her career but she had to sing it at every performance for the rest of her life.
Bennett claimed that he was so upset after another Columbia session at which Clive Davis made him cover mediocre ‘70s hits like “Spinning Wheel” that he went straight to the studio restroom and threw up. I suspect that he his also, very secretly, deep in his heart, getting a little tired of “…San Francisco” by now.
For me, Tony hit his peak on a self-produced album called The Rodgers & Hart Songbook which featured him in a very relaxed and intimate setting with Ruby Braff & George Barnes along with rhythm guitar and bass. Among more recent recordings, “The Art of Romance” stands out, but there are, or course, so many great Bennett recordings.
I think that Ruby was seriously p’eed off with that R&H recording… (I hate that ‘David’ gives a link to Amazon, which never tells you the label of the issue).
The Braff/Barnes 4tet has already worked out some arrangements of the material and recorded it. Then Tony wanted to do it all again without paying for charts! (At least that was Ruby’s story, so it must be right…)
It finally got wide distribution on a Concord set of the coplete Improv recodings, which included great duo tracks with just Bill Evans on piano, which with the Fanyasy duo sides certainly rival the Braff/Barnes.
There’s some early jazzy Bennett tracks from about 1954 with Chuck Wayne, et al that got onto CD on Columbia: Cloud 7.
“David” is innocent. At least, he is not guilty in this instance. He did not add the link. I did. Risking the further ire of Mr. O’Reilly, I have added a link to Cloud 7 in his comment. Poor payment, I suppose, for his having alerted me to an album I didn’t know existed. Any record that has Chuck Wayne and “Darn That Dream” has to be worth hearing.
If you scroll down most Amazon pages past the track listing and the clutter of come-ons for other albums, you will arrive at Product Details, which include the name of the label. Those details almost always also supply a misleading date. In the case of Cloud 7, as an example, it gives May 24, 2005, which could lead you to believe that was the date of the recording. But, no; it is the date on which the CD reissue was released. Bennett made the album in 1954. The Amazonians may never have claimed to be discographers, and that is not their role, but this practice could lead buyers who concern themselves with such things to believe that they’re buying a relatively recent recording.
Speaking of Chuck Wayne, I feel compelled to mention that the two duo albums that he recorded back in 1973 with Joe Puma were finally reissued on CD last year. This is amazing stuff. Not just two great guitar players but two perfectly compatible ones.