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by Seth Rogovoy
LENOX, Mass., July 8, 1996 -- Paul Anka kicked off this summer's concert series at the National Music Center on Sunday night with a multi-media extravaganza that entertained a house that appeared to be a little over half full. But a few hundred empty seats didn't deter Anka and his 18-piece orchestra from blasting their way through a program of hits drawn from Anka's 40 years in show biz.
A showman all the way, Anka surprised the crowd by beginning the concert at the back of the auditorium, as the band kicked into "Diana," the hit that launched the career of the teen idol who eventually would become an icon of Las Vegas. In the first of many such gestures throughout the evening, Anka played directly to the crowd, strolling the aisles with his wireless microphone, shaking hands with fans while occasionally interpolating a few lines from his multi-million-selling ode to his baby-sitter.
From the stage proper, which he alighted with the aid of a nifty elevator-staircase, Anka set the tone with a version of Cole Porter's "I've Got You Under My Skin." His vocals were functional, and the song -- like many others throughout the evening -- was mainly carried by his band, which played crisply defined, hard- hitting arrangements.
The first of a few set pieces featuring film on a dropped screen followed soon after. To the melody of "The Times of Your Life," which Anka proudly noted he wrote for a Kodak commercial, the audience was treated to home movies and film clips from Anka's life and career, including a few shots of National Music Foundation Chairman Dick Clark, who played a crucial role in supporting Anka through appearances on his "American Bandstand" TV program.
After the self-indulgent sentiment wore off, Anka performed a rendition of Kurt Weill's "Mack the Knife." Anka certainly was not the first person to deliver this number about a sadistic rapist and murderer as if it were about a really great guy you really ought to meet -- that honor probably belongs to Bobby Darin, to whom Anka paid tribute with his version -- but Anka did his best to strip the song entirely of any of its intended meaning.
For "Put Your Head On My Shoulders," Anka returned to the audience, where he posed for pictures with friends seated in the front row while the song -- which he never really sang -- went by.
A version of "She's a Lady," which he wrote, merely served to prove that as a performer, Anka is no Tom Jones. As if to nail the point homeward, later in the show Anka made the unfortunate mistake of lip-syncing karaoke-style to a recording of Jones' version of the tune.
Anka debuted a number of tunes off an upcoming duet album a la Frank Sinatra, whereby pop superstars of all stripes harmonize with the featured artist. These songs featured pre-recorded harmonies, so that we variously heard the Bee Gees, Celine Dion, Julio Iglesias and even Kenny G duetting with Anka, who presumably was singing in real time, although the free use he made of this technique raised questions about how much other audio-enhancement was used throughout the evening.
Another highlight was a duet with Sammy Davis Jr. For this selection, the screen rolled down again and we saw a film version of Davis singing a tune, which Anka harmonized with a la Natalie Cole/Nat King Cole's "Unforgettable."
The show concluded with a recent Anka song with a feel-good political message which utterly fell flat, even with the addition of the local Sweet Adelines choir filling the aisles and clapping, while a pre-recorded choir was heard through the p.a. system.
For his encores, Anka picked an odd trio of tunes with no apparent connection to his career: the Pointer Sisters' "I'm So Excited," during which he mostly just sang the chorus in cheerleader fashion, a brief "Twist and Shout," and "Johnny B. Goode." If Chuck Berry were dead, he would have rolled over in his grave over this last, utterly soulless rendition.
In the end, however, this show wasn't about songs or even music. It was about entertainment, and more specifically, production values. Of those there were plenty. The band sounded great, the lights were colorful, the technical wizardry enhanced the spectacle, and Anka was a silky smooth frontman with impeccable mike technique that overcome his lack of distinction as a vocalist. It's highly doubtful that anyone left feeling that he or she didn't get the full $40 worth. Except, perhaps, anyone who came hoping to hear Anka's anti-abortion anthem, "(You're) Having My Baby." He skipped that one.
Comedian Stewie Stone warmed up the audience with some warmed-over Borscht Belt shtick consisting mostly of ethnic and gender stereotyping. His jokes might actually have been offensive if they hadn't been so stale.
[This review originally appeared in the Berkshire Eagle on July 9, 1996. Copyright Seth Rogovoy 1996. All rights reserved.]