One person’s view: “I don’t think Sinatra could have saved this turkey.” – hanspostcard @ slicethelife
The public’s view: 2.05 / 5.00
There are few things that can boost a city’s civic pride and tourism appeal like an association with an amazing musician. San Antonio was once known mainly for a tired old fort, but today’s visitors are more interested in seeing the high school that Christopher Cross attended. Columbia, South Carolina will someday honor its hometown heroes Hootie & the Blowfish in the way that South Carolina honors everything: by erecting a statue of a Confederate general at the spot where the band formed. And can you imagine what Las Vegas would be like if Wayne Newton had never existed? It would be little more than an I-15 truck stop with twenty gas pumps, a couple of slot machines, and one bedraggled hooker.
The 83-year-old Newton has done over 30,000 concerts in Vegas, and continues his residency at the Flamingo even as he mysteriously morphs into a wax mannequin. This is an impressive streak, but I should mention that Vegas shows aren’t always known for their tight quality control. If you’re going to screw up as a performer you should always try to do it in front of tired drunks who are thinking more about how to recoup their gambling losses than they are about your inadequacies. I recall seeing a well-known magician on the Strip in the 1990s. The show began badly, with dancers tripping on a coat hanger that had accidentally been left on the stage. Then, having neglected to load up on alcohol beforehand, I could easily discern how several of the illusions were accomplished. Imperfectly aligned mirrors were used to conceal parts of the set, objects “levitated” with the aid of wires that glinted in the light, and the star employed a body double who looked more like a step-cousin than an identical twin. It was the most unconvincing magic act I’ve witnessed – and I’ve seen cruise ship magicians.
Wayne Newton’s Vegas shows are still widely praised, but recent reviews suggest that his voice might no longer pass quality control. As a young man he was capable of an oddly high pitch, leading many listeners to erroneously assume that tunes such as “Danke Schoen” were performed by a schoolmarm. Eventually he grew a wisp of a mustache, and this caused his voice to deepen to match his more masculine appearance. He was no longer as distinctive of a singer, but was still a hard-working and highly talented lounge act. Today he is in the third and possibly final phase of his career, and his concerts rely more heavily on crowd interactions and storytelling than on his legendary pipes. I suppose we can forgive Newton if his larynx is showing signs of wear and tear after 30,000 shows. A man’s vocal abilities might also suffer if he were to inject his facial muscles with enough Botox to take the wrinkles out of a shar-pei. There is absolutely no proof that Newton has undergone cosmetic procedures, however, and I refuse to entertain any scurrilous rumors of that nature.
“Daddy Don’t You Walk So Fast” came along as Newton was turning 30 and his voice was in the latter stages of adolescence. The song is about a guy attempting to flee his wife, who is evidently an unmitigated horror to live with. His escape is thwarted when his manipulative young daughter guilts him into staying in the oppressive marriage for her own selfish reasons. And yet, some folks inexplicably describe this as a heart-warming ditty with a happy ending. These people also think that “The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald” depicts a pleasant and relaxing day of boating.
Despite the maudlin subject matter and the morose lyrics, the singing and musicianship is so proficient that it’s impossible for me to thoroughly hate this record. The piano accompaniment is nice, and I especially like the second chorus when Newton does his own thing and wanders away from the orchestra for a moment. Good for him. The Mafia, however, was apparently not a fan of Newton’s performance and later threatened to kill him. That seems like a bit of an overreaction. I would have loved to hear how the mobsters reached that decision:
Mr. Gravano: This meeting of the Italian-American Nontraditional Commerce Society shall come to order. Thank you for your attendance here at the Hoboken Hilton. First on the agenda is a proposal to purchase asphalt footwear for Wayne Newton as a token of our appreciation for “Daddy Don’t You Walk So Fast”.
Mr. Gotti: So I guess we’re music critics now? Maybe we should sell our high-interest loan venture and start a stupid blog about top ten hits.
Mr. Khomeini: Speaking of music, I’d like to put a fatwa on Donny Osmond. “Go Away Little Girl” offends Allah, as well as everyone else.
Mr. Gotti: You’re in the wrong place, pal. Ayatollahs Anonymous is in Conference Room D.
Mr. Gravano: Hey, wait a minute. Beardy-face here is the one who took all the bacon at the breakfast bar this morning. Maybe our Iranian friend would enjoy a refreshing swim in Lake Mead with Mr. Las Vegas?
Mr. Khomeini: I would like that very much. The hospitality in this country is as amazing as the bacon. Long live America!
My rating: 4 / 10
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