Jack's next appearance is on the Jerry Lewis Telethon on US tv on 1st September.
Marian
Jack Jones
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Terence Lee
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Hi Marian
Do you remember a TV special titled "The Sound Of Applause" in which Jack Jones, Steve Lawrence, Eydie Gorme & Shirley Bassey appeared in because they had signed to this new record label Applause?
Today I converted my old video recording of it to DVD but I wish my tape was in better shape.
Do you remember a TV special titled "The Sound Of Applause" in which Jack Jones, Steve Lawrence, Eydie Gorme & Shirley Bassey appeared in because they had signed to this new record label Applause?
Today I converted my old video recording of it to DVD but I wish my tape was in better shape.
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Terence Lee
- Posts: 1095
- Joined: Sat Nov 19, 2005 8:29 pm
- Location: Penang Island, Malaysia
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You Don't Know Jack Jones
by Will Friedwald
New York Sun, September 12, 2008
The biggest disclosure announced at Apple's press conference on Tuesday had nothing to do with software (the new edition of iTunes) or hardware (the new line of iPods). Rather, it was Steve Jobs's admission that he listens to Dean Martin, even if he seemed somewhat self-conscious about it. "I didn't really want to tell you that I had Dean Martin on my iPod," he told the crowd in San Francisco. Embarrassed or not, it was pleasing to hear that the company that pioneered the modern system of digital music distribution -- undoubtedly the wave of the future for the music business -- at least acknowledges that the youth-oriented pop of the last few generations isn't the only kind on Apple's mind.
A few hours later, the ghost of Dean Martin was summoned without reservation, thank you very much, when one of the underappreciated Italian crooner's immediate disciples, the singer Jack Jones, opened a two-week run at the Algonquin on Tuesday with a video presentation. For about 10 minutes, the Oak Room became the Plasma Room when the 70-year-old Mr. Jones and Dean Martin were shown in a clip from the mid-'60s doing a swinging treatment of "The Donkey Serenade," the biggest hit for Mr. Jones's father, the singer and actor Allan Jones. What followed was essentially a show and a half, with Mr. Jones performing at least 20 songs, totaling more than 90 minutes.
Putting operetta into swing time is a familiar Jones gambit: He loves to play with time signatures, not just making classic ballads up-tempo, as jazz musicians and singers have traditionally done, but transforming "Just One of Those Things" into a jazz waltz. Familiar also is the way that he opens and closes his show, with two big, dramatic, and autobiographical anthems, "A Song for You" and "Here's to Life," both cast from the same mold as Sinatra's "My Way," not to mention every song ever sung by Barbra Streisand. Yet Mr. Jones delivers them so convincingly and with so much musicality that he made me forget whatever it is I normally find annoying about these odes to oneself. Then, too, he subverts charges of egocentrism with one-liners like "I couldn't be narcissistic -- I'm too old for me."
Mr. Jones is the youngest of the great old-time interpreters of the Great American Songbook, and as such he reaped the benefit of prolonged exposure to the iconic masters of the art, absorbing elements from all of them: Sinatra's attention to lyrical detail, Tony Bennett's matchless dynamics, Mel Torme's harmonic wizardry, Joe Williams's blues-saturated energy. They're all there. He is a singer of amazing vocal power and the intellect to put that power to the best possible use. Like Torme did, he can also be as playful and jazzy as he wants without sacrificing the integrity of the lyric. He will frequently hammer a familiar sequence of words-and-music into a whole new rhythmic pattern, a device that both Torme and Mr. Jones could have learned from Ella Fitzgerald. It's almost like he's scatting with the written words.
There are moments when one suspects that Mr. Jones has chosen his approach to a word or a note based on what best showcases his voice, rather than what best serves the song. But they are comparatively rare. Mr. Jones tosses in stratospheric head tones, surprisingly on the blues-inflected "Baby Don't You Quit Now," and it sounds as if he could fill the Hollywood Bowl (not to mention the Oak Room) with sound. But he places equal emphasis on the value of emphasizing an idea by expressing it as quietly as possible. At the end of "What Are You Doing for the Rest of Your Life," he sings the words "summer/winter/ fall" a cappella, as flatly monotonic as possible. This has the effect not only of conveying the passage of the seasons more dramatically, but of heightening the contrast with the ending line, in which he shoots for a stratospheric 747 of a note. His soul and his voice are, for the most part, in perfect sync.
Mr. Jones plays with his own hits, such as "Wives and Lovers," not only by making them sound like polytonal bonus tracks from Miles Davis's "Kind of Blue," but by employing his antic wit: He acknowledges that this Burt Bacharach-Hal David waltz has been accused of chauvinism (now, even that term sounds dated), so he knowingly points that out before someone else can bring it up, and adroitly sidesteps the charge by throwing in the aside, "Can you imagine me singing this to Gloria Steinem?" When someone cried out for "The 'Love Boat' Theme," he responded by noting that he's made millions for charity by promising not to sing it -- but went ahead and did it anyway in a sophisticated, reharmonized treatment with vocal foghorn effects. This is called having your cake and eating it -- telling us you realize it's a piece of junk before confounding our expectations and making it sound great.
Of course, the most moving number of the night was not junk at all; it was Brian Wilson's "God Only Knows." Now, you might think, to paraphrase the title of another "Pet Sounds" classic, that Mr. Jones just wasn't made for these times. But no. He could have easily sounded like an old-timer condescending to a younger audience; instead, he gave Mr. Wilson the respect most Oak Room singers give Jerome Kern. Rather than a sigh of romantic resignation, he made the song a secular prayer, emphasizing "God" rather than "only."
So why is it that Mr. Jones has never recorded this gem? For that matter, why is it that he hasn't made a new album in 10 years? And why is it that most of the classic LPs he made in the 1970s and '80s have never been made available on CD? Maybe it's because the gatekeepers of the media world, the Steve Jobses out there, still don't have enough respect for Mr. Jones and the classic American pop music that he represents. God only knows, he still has chops he hasn't even used yet.
by Will Friedwald
New York Sun, September 12, 2008
The biggest disclosure announced at Apple's press conference on Tuesday had nothing to do with software (the new edition of iTunes) or hardware (the new line of iPods). Rather, it was Steve Jobs's admission that he listens to Dean Martin, even if he seemed somewhat self-conscious about it. "I didn't really want to tell you that I had Dean Martin on my iPod," he told the crowd in San Francisco. Embarrassed or not, it was pleasing to hear that the company that pioneered the modern system of digital music distribution -- undoubtedly the wave of the future for the music business -- at least acknowledges that the youth-oriented pop of the last few generations isn't the only kind on Apple's mind.
A few hours later, the ghost of Dean Martin was summoned without reservation, thank you very much, when one of the underappreciated Italian crooner's immediate disciples, the singer Jack Jones, opened a two-week run at the Algonquin on Tuesday with a video presentation. For about 10 minutes, the Oak Room became the Plasma Room when the 70-year-old Mr. Jones and Dean Martin were shown in a clip from the mid-'60s doing a swinging treatment of "The Donkey Serenade," the biggest hit for Mr. Jones's father, the singer and actor Allan Jones. What followed was essentially a show and a half, with Mr. Jones performing at least 20 songs, totaling more than 90 minutes.
Putting operetta into swing time is a familiar Jones gambit: He loves to play with time signatures, not just making classic ballads up-tempo, as jazz musicians and singers have traditionally done, but transforming "Just One of Those Things" into a jazz waltz. Familiar also is the way that he opens and closes his show, with two big, dramatic, and autobiographical anthems, "A Song for You" and "Here's to Life," both cast from the same mold as Sinatra's "My Way," not to mention every song ever sung by Barbra Streisand. Yet Mr. Jones delivers them so convincingly and with so much musicality that he made me forget whatever it is I normally find annoying about these odes to oneself. Then, too, he subverts charges of egocentrism with one-liners like "I couldn't be narcissistic -- I'm too old for me."
Mr. Jones is the youngest of the great old-time interpreters of the Great American Songbook, and as such he reaped the benefit of prolonged exposure to the iconic masters of the art, absorbing elements from all of them: Sinatra's attention to lyrical detail, Tony Bennett's matchless dynamics, Mel Torme's harmonic wizardry, Joe Williams's blues-saturated energy. They're all there. He is a singer of amazing vocal power and the intellect to put that power to the best possible use. Like Torme did, he can also be as playful and jazzy as he wants without sacrificing the integrity of the lyric. He will frequently hammer a familiar sequence of words-and-music into a whole new rhythmic pattern, a device that both Torme and Mr. Jones could have learned from Ella Fitzgerald. It's almost like he's scatting with the written words.
There are moments when one suspects that Mr. Jones has chosen his approach to a word or a note based on what best showcases his voice, rather than what best serves the song. But they are comparatively rare. Mr. Jones tosses in stratospheric head tones, surprisingly on the blues-inflected "Baby Don't You Quit Now," and it sounds as if he could fill the Hollywood Bowl (not to mention the Oak Room) with sound. But he places equal emphasis on the value of emphasizing an idea by expressing it as quietly as possible. At the end of "What Are You Doing for the Rest of Your Life," he sings the words "summer/winter/ fall" a cappella, as flatly monotonic as possible. This has the effect not only of conveying the passage of the seasons more dramatically, but of heightening the contrast with the ending line, in which he shoots for a stratospheric 747 of a note. His soul and his voice are, for the most part, in perfect sync.
Mr. Jones plays with his own hits, such as "Wives and Lovers," not only by making them sound like polytonal bonus tracks from Miles Davis's "Kind of Blue," but by employing his antic wit: He acknowledges that this Burt Bacharach-Hal David waltz has been accused of chauvinism (now, even that term sounds dated), so he knowingly points that out before someone else can bring it up, and adroitly sidesteps the charge by throwing in the aside, "Can you imagine me singing this to Gloria Steinem?" When someone cried out for "The 'Love Boat' Theme," he responded by noting that he's made millions for charity by promising not to sing it -- but went ahead and did it anyway in a sophisticated, reharmonized treatment with vocal foghorn effects. This is called having your cake and eating it -- telling us you realize it's a piece of junk before confounding our expectations and making it sound great.
Of course, the most moving number of the night was not junk at all; it was Brian Wilson's "God Only Knows." Now, you might think, to paraphrase the title of another "Pet Sounds" classic, that Mr. Jones just wasn't made for these times. But no. He could have easily sounded like an old-timer condescending to a younger audience; instead, he gave Mr. Wilson the respect most Oak Room singers give Jerome Kern. Rather than a sigh of romantic resignation, he made the song a secular prayer, emphasizing "God" rather than "only."
So why is it that Mr. Jones has never recorded this gem? For that matter, why is it that he hasn't made a new album in 10 years? And why is it that most of the classic LPs he made in the 1970s and '80s have never been made available on CD? Maybe it's because the gatekeepers of the media world, the Steve Jobses out there, still don't have enough respect for Mr. Jones and the classic American pop music that he represents. God only knows, he still has chops he hasn't even used yet.
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Terence Lee
- Posts: 1095
- Joined: Sat Nov 19, 2005 8:29 pm
- Location: Penang Island, Malaysia
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This from the New York Times..
September 12, 2008
Music Review | Jack Jones
Once the New Kid, Now the Silver Survivor
By STEPHEN HOLDEN
Jack Jones with Dean Martin. With Judy Garland. With Johnny Carson. With Jimmy Durante. With Peggy Lee. With Ed Sullivan. As television images of Mr. Jones with this or that show business legend flashed on two video screens at the Oak Room of the Algonquin Hotel on Wednesday evening, the implicit message seemed to be that Mr. Jones, now snowy haired, leonine and celebrating his 50th anniversary in show business, is the last one standing.
In 1962, when he had his first hit, “Lollipops and Roses,†Mr. Jones was the handsome, fresh-faced new kid on the block in an already established tradition of honey-dripping lounge lizards who swing. Today he is the same animal, but his weathered voice is filled with seams and crevices. It is the voice of a gentleman rancher astride a horse, surveying his property in a television western.
It is said that as we age, we become more and more ourselves. And the mature Jack Jones has refined a style that could never be called cookie-cutter.
His world-weary cragginess coincides with an impulse to take ballads at extremely slow tempos and to execute them with the hesitations, drawn-out notes and sudden leaps that are a trademark of the jazz singer Mark Murphy. Because the lower end of Mr. Jones’s voice has deepened, his sudden flights into a quasi-falsetto are more dramatic than ever. At times they suggest the spontaneous eruptions of a polished stylist impatiently throwing caution to the wind.
The Beach Boys’ “God Only Knows,†the only rock song in his program, was treated as a semioperatic aria, with a Chopinesque piano accompaniment, its high drama culminating in a keening cry. “Not While I’m Around,†the ballad from “Sweeney Todd,†was turned into an earnest father-son bonding song in which the ominous tone of a father’s vow of protection suggested a gangster promising revenge, if necessary.
Almost as original was a tricky Afro-Cuban version of “Just in Time.†On the up-tempo numbers Mr. Jones and his band — Jeff Colella on piano, Chris Colangelo on bass and Kendall Kay on drums — cut loose and swung hard.
Mr. Jones has a healthy sense of humor. Reflecting on “ ‘The Love Boat’ Theme,†he joked that he had made of millions of dollars by threatening to sing it. Then he did. It wasn’t so bad.
Jack Jones appears through Sept. 20 at the Oak Room at the Algonquin Hotel, 59 West 44th Street, Manhattan, (212) 419-9331, www.algonquinhotel.com.
September 12, 2008
Music Review | Jack Jones
Once the New Kid, Now the Silver Survivor
By STEPHEN HOLDEN
Jack Jones with Dean Martin. With Judy Garland. With Johnny Carson. With Jimmy Durante. With Peggy Lee. With Ed Sullivan. As television images of Mr. Jones with this or that show business legend flashed on two video screens at the Oak Room of the Algonquin Hotel on Wednesday evening, the implicit message seemed to be that Mr. Jones, now snowy haired, leonine and celebrating his 50th anniversary in show business, is the last one standing.
In 1962, when he had his first hit, “Lollipops and Roses,†Mr. Jones was the handsome, fresh-faced new kid on the block in an already established tradition of honey-dripping lounge lizards who swing. Today he is the same animal, but his weathered voice is filled with seams and crevices. It is the voice of a gentleman rancher astride a horse, surveying his property in a television western.
It is said that as we age, we become more and more ourselves. And the mature Jack Jones has refined a style that could never be called cookie-cutter.
His world-weary cragginess coincides with an impulse to take ballads at extremely slow tempos and to execute them with the hesitations, drawn-out notes and sudden leaps that are a trademark of the jazz singer Mark Murphy. Because the lower end of Mr. Jones’s voice has deepened, his sudden flights into a quasi-falsetto are more dramatic than ever. At times they suggest the spontaneous eruptions of a polished stylist impatiently throwing caution to the wind.
The Beach Boys’ “God Only Knows,†the only rock song in his program, was treated as a semioperatic aria, with a Chopinesque piano accompaniment, its high drama culminating in a keening cry. “Not While I’m Around,†the ballad from “Sweeney Todd,†was turned into an earnest father-son bonding song in which the ominous tone of a father’s vow of protection suggested a gangster promising revenge, if necessary.
Almost as original was a tricky Afro-Cuban version of “Just in Time.†On the up-tempo numbers Mr. Jones and his band — Jeff Colella on piano, Chris Colangelo on bass and Kendall Kay on drums — cut loose and swung hard.
Mr. Jones has a healthy sense of humor. Reflecting on “ ‘The Love Boat’ Theme,†he joked that he had made of millions of dollars by threatening to sing it. Then he did. It wasn’t so bad.
Jack Jones appears through Sept. 20 at the Oak Room at the Algonquin Hotel, 59 West 44th Street, Manhattan, (212) 419-9331, www.algonquinhotel.com.
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Terence Lee
- Posts: 1095
- Joined: Sat Nov 19, 2005 8:29 pm
- Location: Penang Island, Malaysia
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Yes Terence, Jack has recently started singing this great song again.
He sang it at his wedding to Kim, and when they separated he did stop singing it for quite some time, but has recently reintroduced it into his shows.
He jokes that he now sings it much better as he sang it drunk at the wedding!
Marian
He sang it at his wedding to Kim, and when they separated he did stop singing it for quite some time, but has recently reintroduced it into his shows.
He jokes that he now sings it much better as he sang it drunk at the wedding!
Marian
Another review for JJ...
Time Out New York
Top live show
Jack Jones
The Oak Room at the Algonquin Hotel; Tue 9–Sept 20
The ’60s were the heyday of the swinging crooner, and Sinatra set the image: macho, swaggering, nicotine-stained, alluringly dangerous. Then there was Jack Jones, who would never have made the Rat Pack. Born of a silver-screen tenor, Allan Jones, he was Ken-doll handsome, and sang in a robust and sunny baritone. Neither his chauvinistic hit of 1963, “Wives and Lovers,†nor the babe on his arm (actress Jill St. John, his wife in the late ’60s) marred his wholesome air.
Jones made a dramatic interpretive breakthrough on his 1970 album, Jack Jones Sings Michel Legrand, but by then such records were landing on the commercial junk pile. At the height of disco fever, Jones ended up singing the theme from The Love Boat, which became his ball and chain; he also played a washed-up (and often shirtless) pop idol in the British gore shocker The Comeback.
Today Jones is a silver fox of 70, and time has mussed him up in the best of ways. His once-honey-smooth voice is attractively craggy; his delivery has a touch of sexy arrogance. Jones also swings like he never did in the ’60s, with breath control worthy of a swim champ, and his ballads are pretty enough to induce sighs. When he strolls from table to table, picking out special faces to sing to, you’ll see some very well-heeled ladies turn goo-goo-eyed.
— James Gavin
Time Out New York
Top live show
Jack Jones
The Oak Room at the Algonquin Hotel; Tue 9–Sept 20
The ’60s were the heyday of the swinging crooner, and Sinatra set the image: macho, swaggering, nicotine-stained, alluringly dangerous. Then there was Jack Jones, who would never have made the Rat Pack. Born of a silver-screen tenor, Allan Jones, he was Ken-doll handsome, and sang in a robust and sunny baritone. Neither his chauvinistic hit of 1963, “Wives and Lovers,†nor the babe on his arm (actress Jill St. John, his wife in the late ’60s) marred his wholesome air.
Jones made a dramatic interpretive breakthrough on his 1970 album, Jack Jones Sings Michel Legrand, but by then such records were landing on the commercial junk pile. At the height of disco fever, Jones ended up singing the theme from The Love Boat, which became his ball and chain; he also played a washed-up (and often shirtless) pop idol in the British gore shocker The Comeback.
Today Jones is a silver fox of 70, and time has mussed him up in the best of ways. His once-honey-smooth voice is attractively craggy; his delivery has a touch of sexy arrogance. Jones also swings like he never did in the ’60s, with breath control worthy of a swim champ, and his ballads are pretty enough to induce sighs. When he strolls from table to table, picking out special faces to sing to, you’ll see some very well-heeled ladies turn goo-goo-eyed.
— James Gavin
I know I am not the only one to wish that JJ would make some new recordings---how I would love to hear him sing "Not while I'm around"--such a great--but rather underrated song, I think.
It is only those who have been lucky enough to see him at a live concert, who know how he sounds today--I cannot think of anyone else who has not made any new recordings in such a long time. And I would guess there is some previously recorded material, that has never been released.
Even Johnny Mathis, while nowhere near as prolific as he once was, has produced 4 NEW studio albums [ie not compilations] in that time, plus a 50th Anniversary dvd.
It is only those who have been lucky enough to see him at a live concert, who know how he sounds today--I cannot think of anyone else who has not made any new recordings in such a long time. And I would guess there is some previously recorded material, that has never been released.
Even Johnny Mathis, while nowhere near as prolific as he once was, has produced 4 NEW studio albums [ie not compilations] in that time, plus a 50th Anniversary dvd.
Mariana