Sinatra received a Lifetime Achievement Award at the 1994 Grammy ceremony in New York. The honor represented an autumnal triumph and a valuable reconciliation of sorts. In the 1960s and 1970s, Sinatra had been anathema to many young pop fans, not just for exemplifying the classic prerock American Songbook tradition but also for seeming to embody a lifestyle of luxury and hubris. But in time that disregard faded and many listeners and musicians came to discover and appreciate, on their own terms, the depths and smarts in Sinatra’s artistry. Also, many modern music fans now understood that Sinatra’s spirit of bravado and impiety wasn’t all that far apart from the spirit of rebellion that characterized early rock & roll and much of the music that followed. In effect, Sinatra—with his defiance and his disrespect for phoniness—had been a counterculture unto himself for most of his career. Sixty years after he exploded the pop world, Frank Sinatra was once again a paradigm of hip discernment. U2’s Bono introduced the aging singer to the New York Grammy audience, and Sinatra was moved to tears by the standing ovation he received. But as he attempted to speak about his life, the orchestra abruptly cut him off when one of Sinatra’s employees feared he was rambling and looking confused.
A week later, at a concert in Richmond, Virginia, Sinatra collapsed and was taken off the stage in a wheelchair. He toured some more after that, but he was beginning to miss lyrics (even with the aid of TelePrompTers) and to overshoot his timing. At moments, he seemed lost on the same stages that had once been his lifelong familiar home. He gave a final concert at his 1995 Palm Springs Golf Tournament benefit; his last full song in public was “The Best Is Yet to Come.” In December of that year, he appeared as guest of honor at an eightieth birthday celebration event that featured performances by Bruce Springsteen, Bob Dylan, Ray Charles, Little Richard, Salt-n-Pepa, Tony Bennett, Vic Damone with Steve Lawrence and Eydie Gorme, and others. At evening’s end, the tribute performers brought Sinatra onstage during “Theme from New York, New York” and somebody handed him a microphone. As the song came to its close, Sinatra pounced on the final phrase, “New York, New York,” sustaining and holding his tone with such a fierce sureness that his face turned red before he released the final note. Then, refusing any help, he made his way off the front of the stage, into the company of his wife and family, and he was gone from America’s eyes.
FRANK SINATRA LEFT BEHIND a vast body of tangible and enduring work—over two hundred albums, sixty movies, well over two hundred hours of live television, and at least an additional two hundred full concert appearances that have been preserved on film and video. But as remarkable and valuable as that legacy is, we will never again be able to sit in a theater and watch Frank Sinatra walk onto a stage, and it is Sinatra’s art as a live performer that, I suspect, is what will be missed the most.
I recall seeing him several times in the 1970s, 1980s, and early 1990s at various West Coast venues—including the Universal Amphitheatre in Los Angeles—and in Las Vegas. He would walk onstage in a brisk, matter-of-fact stride, wearing a crisp black tuxedo and a bright, cocksure expression. The audience would react with cheers and whistles and squeals—just as bobbysoxers had done decades earlier—and even if the acclaim came as no surprise, he always appeared thankful in that indomitable way of his. In each of these shows, Sinatra used the occasion of his opening song to trumpet his arrival as a triumph, often with a boastful or brassy song, like “Theme from New York, New York,” “Fly Me to the Moon (In Other Words),” or Harold Arlen and Ted Koehler’s “I’ve Got the World on a String”—the song he picked as his first Capitol single in the 1950s to proclaim his regeneration: “I’ve got a song that I sing/I can make the rain go/Anytime I move my finger. . . . ” In those moments, Sinatra relied entirely on his voice to depict whatever ambition and pride he might bring to a stage.
To be sure, Sinatra’s voice on those occasions was showing signs of wear. His range had lowered considerably, his tone had darkened, and his purity had turned rawer and rougher—and yet in some ways those flaws made his voice all the more affecting. In particular, in his delivery of ballads he sounded closer to the grain of heartache and desolation—a bit less proud, more wistful or abject than before. One night he offered a medley: a thoughtful mating of Harold Arlen and George Gershwin’s “The Gal That Got Away” and Richard Rodgers and Lorenz Hart’s “It Never Entered My Mind.” It showcased Sinatra at the full extent of his affecting interpretive power: prowling the shadowy fringes of the stage with cigarette in hand, letting the signs of age in his voice—the brandy-tone timbre, the grainy legato—infuse the lyric: “The night is bitter/The stars have lost their glitter/The winds grow colder/And suddenly you’re older/And all because of a gal who got away.” He sang the words in the manner of a broken, brooding man who knew he had lost his last glimpse of love’s saving whims and could only ruminate over all the tenderness that was now so painfully and finally out of reach. I remember thinking at the time that it didn’t matter that the portrait jarred with everything we presume about the real Sinatra—it just mattered that Sinatra had the sensibility to make us believe it was real. Looking back, I’m not so sure that we weren’t seeing the real Sinatra after all.
In his 1963 Playboy interview, Sinatra said: “I’m for anything that gets you through the night, be it prayer, tranquilizers, or a bottle of Jack Daniel’s.” In 1997, Charlie Rose hosted a roundtable discussion by four men who had met or written about Sinatra and somebody mentioned how Sinatra often liked to stay up through the night, talking to friends, maybe nursing a drink, until dawn rose. Sinatra saw those mornings as a “victory,” said author Bill Zehme—as a way of beating the dark.
In truth, though, Sinatra’s greatest victories were achieved in the dark—the dark of studios and the dark of evenings in clubs, concert houses, and lounge bars. Night after night, for more than sixty years, Frank Sinatra stood onstage and sang songs about love and longing, about hope and despair, and each time he did so, he communicated the emotional truths of those songs to a mass of strangers as if that mass were a handful of understanding intimates. Chances are, he was not doing this merely for the money; long ago, Frank Sinatra became rich enough to live in any world he wanted to build for himself. Instead, maybe he did it simply because somehow singing those songs enriched him, helped him realize a depth and compassion that did not come quite so easily in the realities of his daily private life. Or perhaps singing simply became his most reliable companion—the best way of forestalling the darkness. Maybe it was his way of driving death back: As long as he performed on a stage, he was alive—and he could be the best man he knew how to be.
Frank Sinatra sang in and from the darkness. He sang about a profound loneliness that he knew well and that he spent his whole life trying to beat, in both wondrous and awful ways. Just as important, Sinatra sang to the loneliness inside others—and those who heard that voice sometimes found something of their own experience within its resonance and then—maybe—found some solace and courage as well. Sinatra’s voice entered our dreams, illuminated our pains and hopes, longer than any voice we have ever known before or may ever know again. That voice was the voice of our century, and now it sings no more, except in history.
Oh I do believe
If you don’t like things, you leave
For some place you never been before
LOU REED
“I FOUND A REASON”
publication credits
“Elvis Presley’s Leap for Freedom” appeared originally in part in the Los Angeles Herald Examiner in 1984 and 1985, and parts are new.
“Beatles Then, Beatles Now” appeared originally in the Los Angeles Herald Examiner in 1984, in Rolling Stone in 1990, and much of it is previously unpublished.
“Subterranean: Bob Dylan’s Passages” is assembled from pieces written for Musical Notes in 1976, for the Los Angeles Herald Examiner in the mid-1980s, from Rolling Stone in 1986 and 1991, and much of it is previously unpublished.
“The Rolling Stones’ Journey into Fear” is asse
mbled from pieces that appeared in the L.A. Weekly in 1981, in the Los Angeles Herald Examiner in 1983 and 1984, and in Rolling Stone in 1987.
“The Legacy of Jim Morrison and the Doors” appeared in Rolling Stone, April 4, 1991.
“Lou Reed: Darkness and Love” is assembled from writings that appeared in Rolling Stone in 1979 and 1980, and from numerous Los Angeles Herald Examiner articles in the mid-1980s, plus some of it is newly written.
“Brothers: The Allman Brothers Band” appeared in Rolling Stone in shorter form, October 18, 1990.
“Keith Jarrett’s Keys to the Cosmos” ran in Rolling Stone, January 25, 1979.
“Life and Death in the U.K.: The Sex Pistols, Public Image Ltd., Joy Division, New Order, and the Jesus and Mary Chain” is from pieces published in Rolling Stone in 1980 and 1981, in the Los Angeles Herald Examiner in the mid-1980s, and parts of it are newly written.
“The Clash: Punk Beginnings, Punk Endings” is assembled from pieces that ran in Rolling Stone in 1979, and in the L.A. Weekly and Musician in 1982.
“Punk: Twenty Years After” is assembled from various mid-1980s Los Angeles Herald Examiner articles, a 1982 Musician story, and from new writing as well.
“Van Halen: The Endless Party” appeared in Rolling Stone, September 4, 1980.
“Bruce Springsteen’s America” is from pieces that appeared in Rolling Stone in 1990 and 1995, in the Los Angeles Herald Examiner in the mid-1980s, and some of it is new as well.
“The Problem of Michael Jackson” is from various articles written for the Los Angeles Herald Examiner in the mid-1980s, for Rolling Stone in 1988, plus parts of it are new.
“Upstarts: Over and Under the Wall, and into the Territory’s Center” is from numerous mid-1980s Los Angeles Herald Examiner articles, from pieces published in Rolling Stone in 1987 and 1990, and parts are newly written.
“Clash of the Titans: Heavy Metal Enters the 1990s” appeared in shorter form in Rolling Stone, July 11, 1991.
“Randy Newman: Songs of the Promised Land” appeared in the Los Angeles Herald Examiner, January 23, 1983.
“Al Green: Sensuality in the Service of the Lord” is from the Los Angeles Herald Examiner, August 26, 1983.
“Jerry Lee Lewis: The Killer” appeared in the Los Angeles Herald Examiner, February 21, 1984.
“Miles Davis: The Lion in Winter” appeared in the Los Angeles Herald Examiner, August 26, 1983.
“Feargal Sharkey: Songs of Hearts and Thieves” is part of a longer article that appeared in the Los Angeles Herald Examiner, April 18, 1986.
“Marianne Faithfull: Trouble in Mind” is from a longer piece that ran in the Los Angeles Herald Examiner, April 25, 1986.
“Stan Ridgway’s Wrong People” is from a longer piece that ran in the Los Angeles Herald Examiner, July 11, 1986.
“Sinéad O’Connor’s Songs of Experience” appeared in shorter form in Rolling Stone, June 14, 1990.
“David Baerwald’s Songs of Secrets and Sins” ran at a slightly shorter length in Rolling Stone, September 6, 1990.
“Frank Sinatra: Singing in the Dark” is from Rolling Stone, January 24, 1991.
“Dark Shadows: Hank Williams, Nick Drake, Phil Ochs” is from articles that ran in the Los Angeles Herald Examiner in 1983 and 1986, and parts are new.
“Tim Hardin: Lost Along the Way” originally appeared in New West, February 1981.
“Dennis Wilson: The Lone Surfer” ran in the Los Angeles Herald Examiner on January 2, 1984.
“Marvin Gaye: Troubled Soul” is from 1984 and 1985 articles in the Los Angeles Herald Examiner, and parts of it are new.
“No Simple Highway: The Story of Jerry Garcia and the Grateful Dead” is from articles that appeared in Rolling Stone in 1987 and 1995, and much of it has never been published before.
“Tupac Shakur: Easy Target” appeared in Rolling Stone, October 31, 1996.
“Ella Fitzgerald: Grace Over Pain” appeared in Rolling Stone, August 8, 1996.
“Timothy Leary: The Death of the Most Dangerous Man” appeared in slightly shorter form in Rolling Stone, July 11, 1996.
“Kurt Cobain’s Road from Nowhere: Walking the Streets of Aberdeen” appeared at a somewhat shorter length in Rolling Stone, June 2, 1994.
“Allen Ginsberg: For the Fucking and the Dying” appeared in a slightly shorter version in Rolling Stone, May 29, 1997.
permissions
Every effort has been made to locate current copyright holders of material either reproduced or quoted in this book. Please send any information regarding copyrighted material to the publisher.
“We Work the Black Seams,” by Sting, © Regatta Music Ltd., administered by Atlantic Music Corp. (BMI).
“Brownsville Girl” by Bob Dylan and Sam Shepard, © Special Rider Music (ASCAP). Used by permission.
“The Times They Are a-Changin,” by Bob Dylan © 1963, 1964 by Warner Bros. Music. Copyright renewed 1991 by Special Rider Music (ASCAP). Used by permission.
“Like a Rolling Stone,” by Bob Dylan © 1965, by Warner Bros. Music. Copyright renewed by Special Rider Music (ASCAP). Used by permission.
“Dark Eyes,” by Bob Dylan © 1985 Special Rider Music (ASCAP). All Rights Reserved. Used by permission.
“Got My Mind Made Up” by Bob Dylan and Tom Petty, © Special Rider Music (ASCAP). Used by permission.
“Salt of the Earth” by Mick Jagger & Keith Richards, © 1968 Renewed 1996 ABKCO Music, Inc. All rights reserved. Reprinted by permission.
“Street Fighting Man” by Mick Jagger & Keith Richards, © 1968 Renewed 1996 ABKCO Music, Inc. All rights reserved. Reprinted by permission.
“Sympathy for the Devil” by Mick Jagger & Keith Richards, © 1968 Renewed 1996 ABKCO Music, Inc. All rights reserved. Reprinted by permission.
“Street Hassle,” by Lou Reed, © Metal Machine Music. All rights administered by Screen Gems-EMI Music Inc. (BMI). All rights reserved. Used by permission.
“The Bells,” by Lou Reed, © Metal Machine Music. All rights administered by Screen Gems-EMI Music Inc. (BMI). All rights reserved. Used by permission.
“My Old Man,” by Lou Reed, © Metal Machine Music. All rights administered by Screen Gems-EMI Music Inc. (BMI). All rights reserved. Used by permission.
“Pale Blue Eyes,” by Lou Reed, © Metal Machine Music. All rights administered by Screen Gems-EMI Music Inc. (BMI). All rights reserved. Used by permission.
“All Through the Night,” by Lou Reed, © Metal Machine Music. All rights administered by Screen Gems-EMI Music Inc. (BMI). All rights reserved. Used by permission.
“Love Will Tear Us Apart,” by Ian Curtis, Peter Hook, Bernard Sumner, Stephen Morris. Published by Fractured Music. Administered by Zomba Enterprises Inc. For the U.S. and Canada (ASCAP).
“Twenty-four Hours,” by Ian Curtis, Peter Hook, Bernard Sumner, Stephen Morris. Published by Fractured Music. Administered by Zomba Enterprises Inc. For the U.S. and Canada (ASCAP).
“Decades,” by Ian Curtis, Peter Hook, Bernard Sumner, Stephen Morris. Published by Fractured Music. Administered by Zomba Enterprises Inc. For the U.S. and Canada (ASCAP).
“Guns on the Roof,” by Joe Strummer and Mick Jones. Rights assigned to EMI Virgin Music Ltd. All rights for the U.S. and Canada controlled and administered by EMI Virgin Music Inc. All rights reserved. International Copyright Secured. Used by Permission.
“Everybody Wants Some!!” by Van Halen, © Warner Bros. Publications.
“The Cradle Will Rock” by Van Halen, © Warner Bros. Publications.
“The River” by Bruce Springsteen, © Bruce Springsteen (ASCAP). All rights reserved. Used by permission.
“Johnny 99” by Bruce Springsteen, © Bruce Springsteen (ASCAP). All rights reserved. Used by permission.
“Tom Joad” by Bruce Springsteen, © Bruce Springsteen (ASCAP). All rights reserved. Used by permission.
“Youngstown” by Bruce Springsteen, © Bruce Springsteen (ASCAP). All rights reserved. Used by permission.
“The New Timer” by Bruce Springsteen, © Bruce Springsteen (ASCAP). All rights reserved. Used by permission.
“War Ensemble” by Araya & Hanneman, © Slayer (ASCAP) 1990 Pennemunde.
“Anarchy in the UK” by John Lydon, Paul Cook, Steve Jones & Glen Matlock (The Sex Pistols). © 1977 Warner Bros. Music Ltd., Glitterbest Ltd. All rights on behalf of Glitterbest Ltd. Administered by Carrerrs. BMG Music Publishing Inc. BMI All rights reserved. Used by permission.
“Keep It in the Family” by Anthrax.
“I Love L.A.” by Randy Newman, © 1983 Six Pictures Music. All rights reserved. Used by permission.
“A Good Heart.” Words written by Maria McKee, published by Little Diva Music, administered by Heavy Harmony Music. All rights reserved. Used by permission.
“El Gavilan (The Hawk)” by Kris Kristofferson, © 1985 Jody Ray Publishing. All rights reserved. Used by permission.
“Secret Silken World,” Written by David Baerwald and David Ricketts, © 1992 Zen of Iniquity/ Almo Music Corp. (ASCAP).
“Unforgiven” by Tim Hardin, © Radaera Music.
“Ripple.” Words by Robert Hunter, music by Jerry Garcia; copyright Ice Nine Publishing Company.
“Black Muddy River.” Words by Robert Hunter, music by Jerry Garcia; copyright Ice Nine Publishing Company. All rights reserved. Used by permission.
“Not Fade Away” by Charlie Hadin and Norman Petty, © Hal-Leonard Music.
“Hit ’Em Up” by Duane Hitchings/Dennis Lambert/Franne Gold/Tupac Shakur, © Full Keel Music Company.
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