THE LONG AND WINDING ROAD

I find it hard to imagine Tony Bennett experiencing a near death experience strung out on drugs in a bath tub, especially watching him in his later years as a cocoa and slippers type of crooner that you'd see on your telly late at night singing a medley of Fred Astaire classic tunes with the Ralph Sharon Trio. But it's a true story and one that adds a surprising layer of depth to the consistently easy going persona of Bennett many of us grew accustomed to over the years, like that of a cherished uncle at Christmas.

Perhaps he saw a reflection of his past personal troubles in the eyes of Amy Winehouse when they recorded 'Body And Soul' for his 'Duets II' album back in 2011. In her particular case he may have felt that she might have been better protected by returning to the safe house of jazz standards instead of being perpetually buffeted on the more superficial pop charts where her personal life would be more greatly scrutinised by the tabloid press and her inherent musical artistry would suffer. One wonders what Winehouse's career would have looked like if she had pursued a purely jazz route instead of the more volatile, mainstream path she strode like a colossus for a brief time before she died from that lethal drug overdose. Though judging by the amount of drug addicts in the world of jazz, including Billie Holiday, Charlie Parker, John Coltrane and Bill Evans it's probably a false assumption to think that Amy would have any less avoided her fatal path of destructive addiction had she spent her life singing Duke Ellington and Gershwin covers.

It must have also been odd for Bennett to find his comfort zone so soon in the infancy of his career in the early 1950s secured by the underpinning of the American Standard Songbook repertoire only to then quickly find himself drowning in the oncoming tide/tsunami of 1960s pop counter culture a decade later. One can only imagine what a strange phenomenon it must have been for someone in a music industry that was increasingly trying to stay relevant with the trends of youth attempt to maintain his artistic integrity without becoming woefully kitsch.

Looking back on some of those albums from the 1960s, where jazz vocalists/crooners would chance their arm at pop hits of the day, feels sometimes like listening to a weird and not-so-groovy Austin Powers type of musical-pastiche of the time. What is fascinating about this crossover genre is that many of these more traditional musician/artists were only doing what many of their predecessors had done before by covering songs by other people and typically written by composer and lyricist duos from their musical shows. That's why you might find a hundred different versions of 'The Lady Is A Tramp' or 'Summertime' in the 40s and 50s etc. These days we have a hyper-democratic version of this where it seems at times as if every human being on the planet has a cover version of a song to offer the world via TikTok or YouTube.

A few weeks ago I took some time to reappraise Tony Bennett's album 'Something' (1970) which I had generally dismissed amongst the other albums of his which I had grown a greater fondness for such as I've written about previously. First impressions and all that.

However, this time was different. Maybe it was the time of day (late afternoon) and the fairy lights reflecting on the spinning vinyl that hypnotised me, but I suddenly felt quite stunned by the depth of Bennett's cover version of The Beatles' 'The Long And Winding Road' which seemed to break free from that crossover kitsch that so many versions of that age fell victim to.

No doubt the singer recognised the quality of the song itself but also connected with the genuine sentiment at a time where he was trying to find his place in a world of fast moving cultural changes in the entertainment business. In that moment, a man 'out of time', he found a modern song that clicked and invested it with the same love and care he would a Gershwin or Irving Berlin song. Thinking ahead to the 'overdose' experience in the late 70s when the singer had lost his record contract with Columbia and racked up considerable debts headed into the millions, I wondered if he was led adrift by the siren song of narcotics because he no longer really had anywhere to belong including a tangible musical idiom.

Of course, his own long and winding road would eventually lead him back to the door of his more natural home of American standards where he would happily remain ensconced for the rest of his life.

It's just a shame that Amy Winehouse didn't find a more secure and happy home while she was alive. I have no doubt she would have delivered an amazing version of 'The Long And Winding Road'.