Review Summary: Bloated, but a lot of good to be found.
By 1979, Frank Sinatra had not done an album since 1973's rather dire "Some Nice Things I've Missed." Between a general dissatisfaction with what contemporary pop writers have to offer up, a nearly two year period where his voice was at its worst, and no real need to even make them anymore given his by now untouchable status as an icon, it began to look unlikely that Frank would release a new album. There were sessions, sure, and even an aborted album called "Here's To The Ladies," for which several tracks have surfaced, but a new Frank album looked to be more and more of a distant goal.
This all changed with in mid-1978, when Frank set out to make an ambitious triple album with three of the composers who helped shape his most memorable records of the 1950s' and 1960s': Billy May, Don Costa, and Gordon Jenkins (he'd had a falling out with Nelson Riddle during the aborted 1977 sessions). Each disc would represent a different time frame: May would handle the past, Costa the present, and Jenkins the future. The result would be an unnecessarily bloated, often awful, often inspired, occasionally ingenious affair that stands out as one of Frank's more interesting efforts, if not among his best.
The first section of the album, 'The Past,' is the best of the three. And how it could not be? This is Frank's bread and butter, tackling Great American Songbook standards by Cole Porter, the Gershwins, and Irving Berlin. This should've been a surefire success, but it's not quite a grand slam.
For the most part, 'The Past' is immensely enjoyable. The opening take on "The Song Is You" is the best of the five or six versions Frank cut throughout his career, with a bouncy staccato arrangement and a fierce, energetic vocal from Frank that ushers in what was something of his third peak as a vocalist. His smoldering take on "If I Had You" became something of a late career classic for him, gaining prominence for its inclusion in "When Harry Met Sally." "Let's Face The Music And Dance" has a sense of urgency and mystery lacking in his 1960 take on the song, thanks largely to May's frantic arrangement. "My Shining Hour" and "More Than You Know" are lush, gorgeously played and sung takes on two underrated Great American Songbook entries that benefit from Frank's mature, burnished voice. Finally, though brief, "All Of Me" is a great blast of energy.
With this many highlights, it's almost unfair to call 'The Past' uneven, but there are still some curious decisions that drag it down a bit. May's bizarre inclusion to include backup singers in an attempt to recapture of Frank's Dorsey era Pied Pipers-backed records really doesn't play off, as it sounds hokey and drags down otherwise solid takes on "But Not For Me" and "I Had The Craziest Dream." Then there's the somewhat plodding arrangement of "Street Of Dreams," which is enjoyable but doesn't have the swagger of the 1966 Sands engagement versions with Basie. Finally, Frank blows a massive opportunity to make "They All Laughed" his own song with a tepidly delivered and arranged performance, one that would be more at home on an Engelbert Humperdinck record.
Still, the highlights of 'The Past' are enough to easily make it the best of three sections here, and overall the record is a solid 4/5.
The Present, a collection of ostensibly contemporary songs (though the oldest, a take on "Love Me Tender," dates back to 1956), is a lot more problematic. Much of the blame lies on Don Costa; of Frank's 'core four' arrangers, Costa was by far the most inconsistent. Part of why Frank is considered a serious artist rather than a run of the mill 'Vegas lounge singer / crooner' is the quality of his music. The subtleties of Riddle's horn charts, the stately lushness of Jenkins' string pieces, and May's grasp of how to use bombast effectively without sacrificing musicality are often absent with Costa, and 'The Future' represents the worst of his work with Frank.
His arrangements of songs like Billy Joel's "Just The Way You Are" and Neil Diamond's "Song Sung Blue" have the sort of kitschy-y, almost parodic sound that would be more at home on a Humperdinck or Tom Jones record. The use of backup singers, merely a curiosity on May's 'Past' efforts, are absolutely brutal here, especially on "Song Sung Blue." Then there's "That's What God Looks Like To Me," an Anne Murray-esque ballad that can make theists and atheists find common ground over how something so magnificently, transcendentally bad could ever be willed into existence.
That said, there is some good to be found on 'The Present.' "You And Me (We Wanted It All)" and "Summer Me, Winter Me" are two of Frank's best latter day ballads, with some impeccably strong vocals and Costa turning in some of his more subtle, effective arrangements. "Summer Me, Winter Me" is especially elegant and tasteful, building gradually to its towering climax before ending quietly, with Frank making good use of his range throughout. The strings on "You And Me" serve the song perfectly, conjuring the 'fractured fairy tale' presented in the lyrics. And while "MacArthur Park" has rightfully earned a place as one of the most hated songs to ever become an evergreen hit, Frank's version is remarkably decent, shying away from the whole nonsense about leaving cakes in the rain and recipe-losing lamenting, singing just the opening two verses amid a precipitous sounding string arrangement, recalling his brilliant 1961 take on "Stardust" (which Costa arranged for "Sinatra & Strings").
The most significant part of 'The Present' is obviously the debut of "New York, New York," which overtook "My Way" as Frank's signature anthem and concert showstopper. Forty years later, it's not hard to see why: between Frank's gutsy delivery and Costa's 'chorus line' arrangement, it's one of the most dynamic pop singles ever conjured, and while it's not a lyrical masterpiece, it has a relatable sentiment surrounding a pivotal world landmark that Frank sells beautifully. It's also a testament to Frank's strengths as an interpreter that he could achieve his signature song some 44 years into his singing career, a time in which most have given up on trying to record anything other than contractual obligations (if they even last that long).
"(Theme From) New York, New York" may be the album's obvious highlight, but the real sleeper is Frank's majestic take on The Beatles' "Something." Frank had first recorded the song back in 1970, sleepwalking through a bland horn drenched arrangement by fringe collaborator Lennie Hayton. When he re-introduced the song back into his live repertoire in 1975, it was revamped with a gorgeous, haunting string chart from Nelson Riddle, his last great achievement in a partnership that spawned the lion's share of Frank's best album. Frank's version of "Something" really punctures the heart of the song, resonating the euphoria, admiration and doubt that are all present in George Harrison's lyrics. This one of Frank's last truly great performances, as well as one of his best attempts at covering contemporary popular music.
Okay, and now we get to 'The Future.' If you still need proof that Frank was an ego case of astronomical proportions, 'The Future' will assuage any doubts. The whole record is built around establishing Frank as some sort of sagacious quasi-deity. On paper, its musings on mortality, technology, religion, and redemption sound intriguingly out of the box for Ol' Blue Eyes In execution, it's laughably clumsy and often borders on self-parody.
The opener, "What Time Does The Next Miracle Leave," is a multi-part 10 minute odyssey that has Frank wanking off about the glories of space travel and visiting each planet in the solar system, attributing a different emotion or memory to each one. It's self-aggrandizement at its worst, the nadir coming when Frank visits Pluto, likens it to being in Hell, and acknowledges that his influence and charisma were so powerful that he 'has a lot of friends there' (a chorus of disembodied lost souls responds, 'we did it your way). What saves this misguided odyssey, and 'The Future' in general, are Frank's singing and Gordon Jenkins' arrangements, both of which are focused and at times quite moving.
"World War None!" is laughable attempt at portraying Frank as some sort of peacenik hippie in a three piece suit, while "The Future" is merely forgettable. Amidst all this self fellation however, is "I've Been There!," the album's one of two truly great moments. An excellent ballad that recalls songs such as "Hello Young Lovers" and "September Song," Frank plays the part of an aging paramour bestowing his wisdom of love and loss on future generations in a manner that is remarkably humble compared to the rest of the record.
The other lone highlight is the closer, "Before The Music Ends," in which Frank gives due deference to his influences, his peers, and his audience, almost as if he's apologizing for how laughably arrogant he's been in the previous tracks. His vocal here is one of his best, even if the song's ponderous length robs it of some its impact. It ends the record on a literal high note, although its message is somewhat diluted by the reappearance of the chorus chanting 'Sinatra! Sinatra! Sinatra!' as if Christ had come back.
"Trilogy" is not a Top 10 or even Top 20 record in Frank's catalog. It's bloated and inconsistent. There are some of the worst recordings of Frank's entire career. And yet, it's in no way a bad record, and in fact could've been something great. If only Frank had been a bit more streamlined in his ambitions, "Trilogy" could've been a remarkably solid single disc album:
1. The Song Is You
2. Let's Face The Music And Dance
3. More Than You Know
4. You and Me (We Wanted It All)
5. It Had to be You
6. My Shining Hour
7. They All Laughed
8. Something
9. Street of Dreams
10. All of You
11. I've Been There!
12. Summer Me, Winter Me
13. (Theme from) New York, New York
14. Remember (an unreleased song written for Frank by Elton John and Bernie Taupin, done live by Frank throughout 1978 but never officially released in any format)
And yet, "Trilogy" also represents a lot of the reasons Frank is looked at differently from his peers. Only Frank had the artistic ambitions to do something so conceptually daring, and even though it fails in many spots, it's still more interesting than someone like Andy Williams or Perry Como tossing off an undynamic collection of songs with no rhyme or reason other to fulfill contracts. Is it great? No. Is it an intriguing if flawed effort with some truly good, even great moments? Absolutely.
