This just about completes my quest of collecting everything recorded by the Master Storyteller. So why did I put this one off for so long? Well for starters, as far as readers of genuine poetry are concerned, McKuen gets the same reviews as Kenny G does among musicians. And even as a lyricist (Ira Gershwin, incidentally, insisted that any resemblances between poetry and song lyrics are purely coincidental), McKuen is light-years behind Ira and Hammerstein much less Porter, Hart and Mercer. The lyrics of the songs on "A Man Alone" are basically "declamations" about an event or obvious feeling (being single, feeling lonely, feeling unrooted), repeated rather than developed, and lacking the possibilities for the dramatic, even Hamlet-like enactments, that Sinatra brings to the material of the Capitol albums with Nelson Riddle and Gordon Jenkins. Set aside "A Man Alone" in favor of the scarce Sinatra-Jenkins collaboration "All Alone" and discover some of the most soulful, stirring interpretations of songs from the unfairly maligned sub-genre of non-ironic, unashamedly sentimental material since Crosby's recordings of the early 1930s.
Costa has a Jenkins-like propensity for laying the sentiment on thick, which is unfortunate if the material hasn't "earned" it, melodically or dramatically. McKuen's verses are miniaturist, mono-thematic and mono-dimensional musings, occasionally mixed with a thin veneer of toughness and humor (though neither Sinatra nor the orchestrations seem the least interested in going there). One wonders if even McKuen had all this gravitas in mind after he'd submitted his vernacular lyrics and melodic phrases prior to the actual recording. Sung by a Johnny Cash or Merle Haggard with scaled-down accompaniment, this would be a thoroughly pleasant country-pop session. Sung by Sinatra accompanied by Costa's heavy strings, it's only partially pleasant and a little unsettling.
Certainly Sinatra by this time "knew the score": even those who would deny him the top spot among all American male vocalists, had better take a deep breath and pray before questioning his taste. But by the late 1960s the music culture was heading into lean times, and who can blame the Chairman for wanting to retain his position even as Elvis was relinquishing his to Dylan, the Beatles, Stones, 5th Dimension, Glen Campbell and Hee Haw?
If there's a consolation or two, despite the lengthy song list and the spoken inter-track commentary by Sinatra, the album clocks in at an appropriately short-attention-span 30 minutes. The other good thing about the session is that it's not "Watertown," which tellingly was produced the same year. As I said, "A Man Alone" is a pleasant album--not an unbearably dull and insipid one. "All Alone," on the other hand, is superior Sinatra and vintage Americana.
As a Sinatra student turned Sinatra defender if not evangelist, I'm compelled to caution against even considering this one without first having the desert island essentials from the "suicide song" collection of music's greatest self-described saloon singer: "Only the Lonely," "In the Wee Small Hours," "No One Cares," "Where Are You?," and "September of My Years." And if you're a sophisticate, unlikely to weep a tear or two while listening to "All Alone," look for the artfully ironic, equally rare (and sublime) "Close to You" (beware of impostors with the same title). All of the foregoing are not only worthy of Sinatra's talents but of the most serious listener's time.
A Man Alone is the Real Frank
3 1/2 stars (because I awarded "Watertown" 3).
