Tony Bennett

Sincerity. That’s Tony Bennett’s gift. Among his peers, Frank Sinatra had greater emotional depth; Bing Crosby, more verbal dexterity, Ray Charles was bluesier; Bobby Darin, brasher; but no one was more earnest than Bennett on ballads like “I Left My Heart In San Francisco."(Nor were they more exultant than he was on his MTV romp “Steppin’ Out With My Baby.”) Just check out his earliest hits: 1950’s “The Boulevard Of Broken Dreams” and his ’51 cover of Hank Williams’ “Cold, Cold Heart.” Forget the over-orchestration; what matters is that regular guy plaintively singing his heart out. (The ordinary-Joe persona also allowed Bennett to mask his sophisticated vocal technique.)

This direct emotional connection with his audience is why the singer born Anthony Dominick Benedetto on Aug. 3, 1926, raised in Astoria, Queens, and renamed by Bob Hope, still matters. On his new Phil Ramone-produced album, Tony Bennett: Duets/An American Classic, he reinterprets several signature hits with an eclectic roster of guests, including Bono, Elton John, Juanes, John Legend and the Dixie Chicks. And with an NBC special featuring many of the same performers and directed by Rob Marshall, Bennett is celebrating his 80th birthday in style.

And he should. Bennett is the lone authentic practitioner of a dying tradition—authentic because he was alive when the Great American Songbook was being penned. To modern singers, these are standards, relics of a bygone era. (And if you’re Rod Stewart, you warble them like it’s Sunday night at the karaoke bar.) But to Bennett, this—the sound of his youth—is pop music. He understands these compositions and gets their arcane references. That’s why, for example, on The Art Of Romance (2004), he can take a chestnut like “I Remember You” and revitalize it with emotional gravitas. It’s not only that Bennett is still around; it’s that he’s vital. The music still matters to him, therefore he still matters to us.

Bennett is also a risk taker. In 1957, sick of Columbia Records asking him to record inferior material, he released the daring The Beat Of My Heart, essentially a call-and-response between Bennett and a Who’s Who of jazz drummers. The cognoscenti were surprised, but they shouldn’t have been. Bennett’s career always had a jazz underpinning. All the great singers adored the music of their formative years. That’s why there was an extra throb in the throat whenever Crosby sang Dixieland, Sinatra swing, Brother Ray country & western and Darin R&B. This was the music that forever influenced their work. With Bennett, it’s always been jazz. That’s why he’s so comfortable—much more than any of the aforementioned vocalists—within an intimate quartet setting. It’s also why his highly acclaimed mid-’70s collaborations with pianist Bill Evans were so effortlessly brilliant. With just piano and voice, the dynamic duo mined emotional gold. And pumping up the jazz cred, in 1959 Bennett did two albums with the great Basie band, years before Sinatra and The Count’s acclaimed trilogy.

The ’70s saw Bennett taking more risks. After leaving Columbia in 1971, he took an extended London sojourn and then formed the Improv label, which was successful artistically but not financially. Then in 1979, he asked his son Danny to rejuvenate his career. With careful planning and booking in jazz and rock venues, Danny steered his father away from a beckoning Vegas hell and reheated his career. In 1986 they returned—with a partnership deal—to Columbia and released the notable Art Of Excellence.

The Evans albums prove Bennett the best interpreter of lyrics, with the exception of Sinatra. But even between those two, the competition is close. On swing tunes, Sinatra’s swagger rules the day. But Bennett’s unselfconscious joy also charms. Take “The Best Is Yet To Come,” which both performed. Where Sinatra gave it a sexual spin—taking the title literally—Bennett made it an optimistic ode. Each is a classic.

On ballads, Sinatra’s manic-depressive brilliance remains unmatched. But Bennett is a terrific torch singer, as well. “When Joanna Loved Me” and “Solitude” are wonderfully rueful works. And age has brought Bennett—like the best blues singers—an emotional gravity that, as his voice coarsened from a soaring tenor to a husky croon, he’s exploited for emotional coloring. Consider “I Got Lost In Her Arms” from The Art Of Excellence. It’s a masterpiece of quiet devastation.

And Bennett still has vocal chops. In concert, he’ll hold a note for 32 bars or sing “Fly Me To The Moon” without any amplification. In fact, an undeniable pleasure of Duets is listening to Bennett lay waste to young-uns John Legend on “Sing You Sinners,” Tim McGraw on “Cold, Cold Heart,” Juanes on “The Shadow Of Your Smile” and vets Paul McCartney and Elton John on “The Very Thought Of You” and “Rags To Riches,” respectively. Only Barbra Streisand on “Smile,” Diana Krall on “The Best Is Yet To Come,” Stevie Wonder on “For Once In My Life” and frequent duet partner k.d. lang on “Because Of You” match Bennett’s considerable gifts. And every now and then he’ll unleash a trademark high note as he does to George Michael on “How Do You Keep The Music Playing?” just to let them know TB’s still livin’ large and definitely in charge.