Frankie Valli, Hydro, Glasgow **
Valli is renowned for his sky-scraping falsetto, a uniquely tough yet vulnerable pop sound synonymous with sun-baked New York fire escapes and switchblade romance. Of course he can’t hit those notes at his age, there’s no shame in that. However, I’d have more respect for him if he’d rearranged his material to suit his weathered voice. He must’ve been dismayed when that once formidable instrument gave up the ghost, but he should’ve accepted it with dignity instead of ploughing on.
You can’t argue with the canon, which is presumably why everyone else enjoyed themselves. Valli and his original Seasons (the current quartet are an anonymous bunch of youngsters) scored an incredible string of hits during their pomp, all of which were dusted off during this admittedly slick show. I even got goosebumps when Valli’s band launched into The Night, a classic surge of yearning northern soul drama which may well be his crowning achievement.
When he thanked the audience for giving him a life beyond his teenage dreams, he struck a touching note of sincerity at odds with his ersatz vocal performance. Did it taint his legend? No. His music will live on regardless. Just don’t remember him this way. - Paul Whitelaw