He’s not a bad singer, is he? That Frank Sinatra, I mean.
I may be old now, but I was young when I grew up, and old men like Sinatra where just that; old men. Famous, and you saw them in magazines all the time, with the most recent wife. So I was never interested in Frank, or most of the other old men. One or two of his songs might have made various charts or lists at the time, so I would have done some passive listening.
But I’m a believer in greatest hits compilations, which is why I got myself an early Christmas present last year while out scouring the charity shops for things to buy for my lovely family. I decided it was most unlikely that anyone would realise that a Frank Sinatra collection would be any good for me, so I’d better buy it myself.
And how I have enjoyed it! I don’t think it’s his voice particularly, which is good, but nothing extra special. It must be a lucky combination of songs, musical arrangement, and his singing. I don’t know. But it’s a favourite for when I sit down with an actual CD. In this age of iTunes, the shuffle is my choice nearly all the time. But sometimes, perhaps with the pot of tea on a weekend afternoon (not too many cucumber sandwiches or scones, I’m afraid) I like a CD to play from beginning to end. And it’s often Frank.