The Phenomenon in Midnight Blue

Here’s another look at another great moment in the history of the career of Frank Sinatra. Although Sinara’s career was on a downslide in the USA, it appeared the opposite in Great Britain. It seems his 1950 London Palladium debut rivaled even early Paramount Theatre days. This review of Frank Sinatra’s first London Palladium appearance, appeared in The London Times on  July 15, 1950 – Rick Apt

Crowds gather at the July 11,1950 debut performance of Frank Sinatra at the London Palladium

Sinatra walked on to a bare stage before the Palladium curtains had parted, gave a slightly diffident bow to the gallery roar that hadgreeted Woolf Phillips announcement, and straight away swung into “WhenYou’re Smilin.”

It was the start of a fifty minute, almost non-stop song session that left the world’s highest paid vocalist limper than the second-house crowds who were jamming Argyle Street long before the curtain fell.

He sang fourteen songs. Previously he had taken the Skyrockets band call, personally supervising each section in its interpretation of the Sy Oliver, Alex Stordahl, and George Siravo arrangements. One wondered how he would fare in the second house. His throat seemed to be feeling the strain after “Ol’ Man River.” But he went on fortified by a cup of tea to sing six more songs, until the interpreting of ‘Soliloquy’ saw him looking haggard and rather grey.

For a minute or two, he left the stage [amd Woofie looking anxiously into the wings], but returned rejuvenated from some secret source, to render two more numbers before making his exit, as undramatically as he had entered upon his first British stage appearance.

Meanwhile, what had he shown us,this very scared young Italian lad, as he described himself in one of his unassuming asides. What has he got [beyond a million pound contract in his pocket] that other crooners haven’t got? And is it hard to get?

Let’s look at him as he stands at the mike in a midnight blue dinner jacket and outsized bow tie.

He rarely moves his feet. In slow numbers [of which there were far too many], his arms are outward at an angle slightly lower than Jolson’s or wrapped around the microphone stand as if in supplication. In fast numbers, they are slightly bent; the right hand clicking the tempo; a pulsing of the left foot slightly rocking his broad shoulders. In both, he sings from the hips, body leaning backwards and swaying like an early movie vamp.

Sinatra does not milk the audience, at least no so you would notice it. But the vamping is there all the same: in the body movement, the clinch of the fist, the narrowing of the eyes.

And when it becomes too much for the fans to stand, and they start to go over the edge, he gently pushes them back to momentary sanity with an admonishing “Steady, now.”

He has vocal tricks, of course. The note held on from one phrase to another; the occasional portamentoes that imitators seize upon. But not so many tricks as one would expect. Above all, he sings [in a voice somewhat deeper than his records have led us to expect] in a manner that makes you believe every word of the lyric.

Can any of our own singers compete for this crown? I wouldn’t like to say . . . I am inclined to think that here is a unique personality, a phenomenon; but also someone who is very human.

And fourteen songs in a row are more than human flesh and blood [if such can be applied to Sinatra] should be expected to stand.

For the record, here if the first house programme: “When You’re Smilin”, “Bewitched, Bothered, and Bewildered,” “April in Paris,” “Ol’

Man River,” [and a parody, Ol' Man Crosby", "Embraceable You," "Don't Cry Joe," "I Fall in Love too Easily," "A Foggy Day," "My Foolish Heart," [requested by the gallery and played to solo piano accompaniment by Sinatra's own pianist, Ken Lane, who took over Pat Dodd's chair for the act], “Come Rain or Come Shine,” “Soliloquy,” [We had to get a special piece of legislation passed to allow me to sing this, he said. “Nancy” and “Bye, Bye, Birdie.” Of the Skyrockets accompaniment, what need be said? It was, as usual, perfect.

Tagged as: Frank Sinatra