Let me get fast to the point: Frankie Valli was


Absolutely, unequivocally, genuinely AMAZING last night! Two hours of almost non-stop singing.  Two hours of straight screaming (by me!). Two hours of some of the best music in the history of music. As my dad said:

“That old fart’s still stinking.”

And by “stinking”, he means that he’s still absolutely awesome.

So flanked by four young, stud muffin men – who, for that performance, were Frankie’s 4 Seasons – and backed by a band that included the entire Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra brass section, I knew that I was in for a treat. This would be a true singing performance; no pyrotechnics, no voice dubbing, no special effects needed. It was just Frankie and his microphone, and that was plenty.

He touched on every decade of music, starting with the sixties (singing hits like My Girl and Groovin – two exceptional remakes that appear on his Romancing the 60s disc) and going straight through the seventies, eighties all the way to now, breaking out into an impromptu rap that I found hysterical and, funnily enough, very catchy.

Valli was funny, bantering back and forth with the crowd, talking about buying a summer house in the city, staying positive in tough times, and seeing Frank Sinatra for the first time.

“It changed my life,” he said. “From that moment on, I wanted to be a singer.”

Well, I really can’t blame him. If my first concert was seeing Frank Sinatra, I’d want to be singer, too.

My dad was worried that Frankie wouldn’t be able to hit the high notes anymore. Admittedly, I was kind of worried, too. I mean, those notes he sings on songs like Working My Way Back To You and Opus 17 (Don’t Worry ‘Bout Me) and pretty much his entire song catalogue are tough to tame. As I said before, guys decades younger than Valli had to really train for it. But, let me assauge you worries and calm your fears…..he hit EVERY NOTE!

It was almost too much to believe. If I wasn’t sitting so damn close (fourth row back from the stage; Thanks Nicole for the sweet, sweet, sweet, sweet, sweet hook up!), I would have sworn that he was some holograph or something and that I was really listening to a a recording.

That wasn’t the case. He was singing, the Seasons were singing, I was singing, everyone was singing. It was a great volley, and at the end of the night, I served it right back to him. I marched up to the very edge of the stage, jumped up and down a few times, screamed as loud as I could, waved my hand in front of his face until he – to my shock and amazement – bent down and shook my hand.

It was amazing.

The entire night was beyond belief. Today, my throat hurts because of all the yelling. By the way, if you were there last night, I was the one who screamed “I Love You” during “My Eyes Adored You”, and “Grease!”, and during the silence between Frankie’s introduction and the actual instrumental, and “Happy Birthday” and right after he sang “Who Loves You”.

Yeah, I yelled a whole bunch.

Either way, the night was glorious. Frankie is a star for a reason, and his music has withstood the test of time to come back more popular than ever.

Who loves this pretty baby? I do!

And, judging by that firm handshake and smile he gave me at the end of the night, I kind of figure that he loves me too. 🙂

I wish!!!!!!!!