After the rave review in Friday’s News, is there anything further to be said about the superlative Jack Jones showcase at the Usher?
Well, yes, I’ve burrowed deep into the Gibpress File to recall what I spluttered, unfettered, in the past. Columns about what I’d seen and heard of one of the last precious few songsters still on the planet.
“My father (the universally-acclaimed Allan) told me two things – always go for the high notes and keep singing till you fall over and die”, and Jack’s excuse for never using brass in his accompaniment in Edinburgh was that brass “bounced off the walls of the Usher Hall”. Accordingly he had no brass players behind him on Wednesday. He said of a song he’d co-written with his musical director Joe Kloess: “It’s got some meaningful lyrics but unfortunately Joe and I, with seven ex-wives between us, have not been able to live up to them.”
What got no mention in the write-up was that Jack gave up smoking 30 years ago. “I was smoking at least four packs a day. At least 80 cigarettes daily. I now shudder at the thought.”
His “diet” post-concert supper at Gordon’s Trattoria, grilled veal and lemon. But his latest stick-thin wife ate for California.
The banda hope. A break-through by scientists who are half-promising relief for the countless victims of arthritis. Do you suffer from it? It’s not fun. It’s a pain not in the bum and the man behind the “cure” is a professor Nirmal Bandu.
He’s an expert at Colorado University. The prof is using mice in his experiments and he’s winning. Gets points for easing the joints. Stiffies like me are praying for him.