Martin Longley held his breath for Tony Bennett last night.

Tony Bennett
Symphony Hall
September 11th

Near the end of his 90 minute-plus set, Tony Bennett declared his love for Symphony Hall, describing it as the best concert hall in the world. Does he say this to all of the venues he visits? Surely not. The New York singer has expressed this sentiment on previous visits to Birmingham, and he usually says what he means. Now a grand old 88, Bennett appears in remarkable shape, both vocally and physically.

The evening opened with a run of pieces from his quartet, which includes old Count Basie sticksman Harold Jones. The tunes swished past so quickly that they sounded almost like a medley, peaking with a spry reading of Duke Ellington’s Take The A Train. Prior to Bennett’s entrance, this combo were fairly limp in nature, not really designed to function on their own. Nevertheless, they set the mood in a nonchalant fashion. Once the evening’s star swept on, their role switched to being carefully minimalist melodic shaders, completely devoted to framing their master’s voice.

It took Bennett a few numbers to warm up, as his voice sounded a touch shaky at first. After around 15 minutes, he was firing fully, making the occasional fleet-footed foray across the stage, and even giving a swift twirl to emphasise a line. He gestured with power, right up to the heights of the hall, holding his microphone down at his waist for much of the time, or around chest-level. He reserved raising it up anywhere near his lips for particularly strategic moments, where a low, growling emphasis was demanded, or when a song became strongly swinging.

Bennett’s approach to staging was sharp, breaking up some songs into shimmering duets with his guitarist, or sneaking over to commune with his bassist. He was changing the visual relationships to suit the audio dynamics, adding a touch of theatre to the proceedings, maintaining close audience attention throughout.

Boulevard Of Broken Dreams was a melancholic highlight, winging right back to the very beginning of his career. The sparse delivery of B ut Beautiful made a perfect example of Bennett’s naked song interpretation. Other stand-outs included The Best Is Yet To Come, Smile and Stranger In Paradise, the latter being the sole example of a momentary lapse in memory, as he scatted a few lines.

The encores took up around 20 minutes, if they were actually encores, as Bennett only left the stage for less than 30 seconds. Just when we were missing it, he unveiled I Left My Heart In San Francisco, and then serenaded the crowds with Fly Me To The Moon, microphone abandoned on the piano lid. Bennett is still a potent force, a last bastion of traditional song-craft, and on this showing, we might even be seeing him returning to tread these boards as a nonagenarian.