A COLLECTION OF REVIEWS
BBC
Rod has long refused to let musical credibility stand in the way of kitsch, and has passed from the position of vital artist to the status of karaoke favourite. It’s therefore apt to find him singing this selection of standards from the pen of such luminaries as Gershwin and Cole Porter.
According to the sleeve notes, this was a labour of love for Rod. Apparently he can be regularly heard whistling these songs while hanging around studios and photo shoots. Unfortunately, his private passion doesn’t translate to a fiery performance. It’s a bit like listening outside Rod’s bathroom door as he soaks that famous rooster cut beneath the shower.
Rod’s greatest asset, his famed leathery rasp, is muted throughout. In any case, it’s better suited to noisy rave-ups and sentimental lighter wavers than smooth standards. The bland arrangements certainly don’t help, but it must be said, Rod just ain’t much of a crooner. His performance may be pitch-perfect, his phrasing spot on, but lacks any real sense of passion or adventure, the very things Rod used to have in abundance.
As an interpreter of songs Stewart has often proved peerless. But his version of “These Foolish Things” is oddly respectable whereas Bryan Ferry’s version injected new blood into tired veins. And since when was a respectable Rod desirable?
Still, its hard to mess up with standards such as these. Great songs always shine through, with the title track a case in point. But it would have been nice if Rod had dug a bit deeper into them.
If you’re a fan of Rod’s glory years in the early 70s then you may be nonplussed by this album. In the context of Rod’s career arc, however, it makes perfect sense. Perfectly inoffensive background music, but ill suited to closer scrutiny.(Michael Fitzsimmons)
THE OBSERVER
If Robbie Williams is aping Rod Stewart’s leathery rasp in an effort to break America, the fading Rod, it seems, is returning the favour by releasing an album of standards that recalls Williams’s ‘Swing When You’re Winning’, with Sinatra producer Phil Ramone in tow. It does make a surprisingly pleasant change from Stewart covering Oasis, though. The songs of the old crooners have a charm and internal logic that remain impervious to Stewart’s innate ridiculousness – this is a man, after all, who’s photographed on his CD, smirking, with his white dinner jacket slung casually over a tuba. To his credit, Stewart’s vocals on tunes like ‘Way You Look Tonight’ are graciously unshowy. And even if the whole package is indefatigably schmaltzy, ‘It Had To Be You’ could just about soundtrack the Boxing Day slump without prompting too much gastric recoil. Just About. (Kitty Empire)
PHILADELPHIA INQUIRER
Rod the Mod. Soul swinger. Disco king. Rhythm-and-blues belter. Motown manipulator.
From muddied waters with Jeff Beck and Ron Wood to the sanguine strings of “Atlantic Crossing” (you’ll never hear a better “This Old Heart of Mine”), Stewart has covered the waterfront of emotional song with his signature casual demeanor and gruff graciousness. Luckily, raspy Rod overcame cancer so that he could use that crushed-velvet croon on these Tin Pan Alley tunes.
It’s novel to hear Stewart plaintively sing “Where or When” or “You Go to My Head”, but over-glossy production, irksome arrangements and such lame conspirators as Dave Koz and Arturo Sandoval let him down. When Rod gets lazy, he’s unexcited by his own baleful balladry, and so this “Songbook” ends up blowing around like so many autumn leaves. (A D Amorosi)
ROLLING STONE
Once, Rod Stewart was rock’s greatest interpreter of other people’s songs – the Sinatra of his age, somebody who took on Dylan, Motown and a whole lot in between and made it all sound urgent and thrilling and alive. Which is why this collection of fourteen American standards from the Thirties is such a disappointment. In his golden age (which, granted, ended thirty years ago), Stewart sang with great musicians, such as guitarists Jeff Beck and Ron Wood, guys who weren’ afraid to make him work. Here, on chestnuts such as “It Had to Be You,” “You Go to My Head” and “These Foolish Things,” he sings against syrupy, obvious orchestral arrangements, driven by a beat that sometimes seems on the verge of a nap – all of which encourages Stewart’s worst habits: He sounds lazy, glib and uninvolved, just the opposite of when he still mattered. (Bill Tonelli. Rolling Stone five star rating: **)
Q
Doubtless tempted by Robbie Williams’s sales figures, Rod Stewart here attempts to croon. However, the drab orchestrations offer tepid schmalz, not romance, while his bag-of-gravel voice is spectacularly ill-suited to smouldering, meaning that gorgeous standards such as It Had To Be You are robbed of any sparkle. Sinatra banging out Maggie May would have been more convincing. (Dan Gennoe. Q five star rating: *)
UNCUT
Ol’ spiky hair goes to Cole Porter for inspiration… The steadily diminishing returns from endless self-parody has at last become obvious even to Rod. Unlike 1998’s covers album When We Were The New Boys (“repositioning” him by singing Skunk Anansie), this selection of pre-war pop standards is clearly one he wanted to make. The arrangements are banal, but the tunes are exquisite, and his voice, more worn now, is recorded intimately. The LA soft life makes him miss the soul hurt in the Gershwins’ “They Can’t Take That Away From Me”, but it’s respectable supper club crooning. What next, though? (Nick Hasted)
PEOPLE MAGAZINE
When Rod Stewart sings the ’30s chestnut “These Foolish Things,” he might as well be referring to this new album of standards. Stewart’s crooning of these much covered American classics is about as convincing as Tony Bennett would be belting “Da Ya Think I’m Sexy?”.
The British rocker offers nothing new on surprisingly dull renditions of beloved oldies such as “They Can’t Take That Away from Me,” “The Way You Look Tonight” and “The Very Thought of You.” What’s more distrubing, though, is that the traditional arrangements (cue the strings) seem to have sucked all the soul out of Stewart’s raspy voice, reducing him to a Vegas Lounge lizard (OUCH). Guest appearances by saxmen Dave Koz and Michael Brecker only add to the
Muzak mood. Given what he did with Curtis ayfield’s “People Get Ready” in 1985, Stewart would be much better off doing an album of classic R&B covers.
Bottom Line: Substandard
EONLINE.COM
Rod the Mod dons a tux and slips on the alligator shoes – but keeps the crazy ‘do, natch – for a round of lounge karaoke. And, yes, the songs are great; everything from ‘It Had to Be You’ to ‘Moonglow’ is represented in this collection. But Stewart is in over his roostery haircut: His similar-sounding interpretations lose their oomph a few
tracks in. If anything, this collection proves a good backing band is a fine investment – saxophonist Dave Koz, trumpeter Arturo Sandoval and others help out – and these songs can sound okay even with a mediocre treatment. Nothing new here.
JAZZ REVIEW.COM
Well, jazz fans, he did it: Rod Stewart recorded his first collection of songs from the Great American Songbook, and he does it well! Rod Stewart swings with a elegance and spins a new approach to these beautiful old songs in ‘IT HAD TO BE YOU…THE GREAT AMERICAN SONGBOOK.’
Let us hope all such efforts by various recording artists bringing out such CD collections are as successful and well-crafted as Rod Stewart has created in this intimate collection. Rod Stewart sounds like a jazz vocalist out of the 1930s, and I have often wondered when he would get
around to his natural calling, which he has, in this memorable collection.
This CD collection contains 14 songs. Among the songs are found “You Go To My Head,” “They Can’t Take That Away From Me,” “The Way You Look Tonight,” “It Had To Be You,” “That Old Feeling,” “These Foolish Things,” “The Very Thought of You,” “Moonglow,” “I’ll Be Seeing You,” “Every Time We Say Goodbye,” “The Nearness Of You,” “For All We Know,” “We’ll Be Together Again,” and “That’s All.”
The arrangements are filled with nice jazz solos. Welcome to your natural roots, Rod, for you certainly give the definition of jazz vocals a new and friendly approach. Excellent collection for the jazz listener. Highly recommended.
MUSIC WEEK
Stewart’s first album for J – after being at Warner for nearly 30 years – sees the singer covering some of the US’s most celebrated songs: It Had To Be You, These Foolish Things, You Go To My Head and They Can’t Take That Away From Me. Stewart is in fine voice and, with the legendary Phil Ramon and Richard Perry producing, it makes for a winning combination.
BILLBOARD
Rod Stewart joins the ranks of rockers who have opted later in their careers to momentarily shift gears and tackle the lofty task of interpreting pop standards. Of all the performers who have tried their hands at such challenging material, Stewart is perhaps the most initially odd match for songs like George & Ira Gershwin’s “They Can’t Take That Away From Me” and Cole Porter’s “Everytime We Say Goodbye.” It’s hard not to hear raunch-rockers like “Hot Legs” echo in the back of your head while listening to him gamely croon amid lush strings and traditional jazz arrangements. But after moving past those first moments of seeming artist/song incongruity, the listener will discover an album full of pleasant surprises and vocals that show Stewart in a most flattering light.
THE GUARDIAN
He has been a button-down-collar mod, a tartan-wearing teen idol and a shiny-suited 80s chart star. Now Rod Stewart has gone subtle and chosen an undone tie to mark his move into Sinatra territory.
From the Gershwin classic They Can’t Take That Away From Me to It Had to Be You, Stewart wraps his sandpaper vocals around the standards. But despite the desperately careful phrasing and the painful reverence for the original arrangements, Stewart has missed the point. These songs were always about the music, not the singer, but here the music becomes incidental, sighing behind Stewart’s distinctive vocals.
The poignancy of The Very Thought of You is lost in a creepy whisper, while the delicacy of I’ll Be Seeing You is disguised by cloying smugness. Even Every Time We Say Goodbye, which is tailor-made for Stewart’s voice, consists of swallowed words to a rushed rhythm. This will have you running back to Harry Connick Jr with glee. (Betty Clarke)
THE INDEPENDENT
Having struck out commercially with both 1998’s covers collection When We Were The Young Boys and last year’s nu-R&B makeover album Human, this anthology of standards might be considered a last desperate attempt to secure Rod Stewart a meaningful profile in today’s rapidly-changing pop marketplace. And to a certain extent it’s succeeded, thanks in part to the experience of the producers Phil Ramone and Richard Perry, and the arrangers Don Sebesky and Philippe Saisse, not to mention the revitalising midas touch of J Records boss Clive Davis: in America, it sold more than 100,000 copies in its first week, gaining a Top 5 chart entry, Stewart’s highest in some while. It shouldn’t come as too much of a surprise, though; Rod’s nearer 60 than 50 now, the right age to tackle such venerable classics, and he’s clearly given plenty of consideration to the phrasing and delivery of songs such as “They Can’t Take That Away From Me” and “It Had To Be You”. It certainly shows a clean pair of heels to Robbie Williams’ similar exercise, demonstrating that doing standards isn’t just a matter of wanting to emulate Frank Sinatra or Tony Bennett, at the side of whom one could only come off second-best, but of having developed a voice with a singular enough character of its own to breathe new life into the material. Rod’s singing here has a pleasing, smoky quality and a sly worldliness that animates these songs in his own distinctive manner, whereas Robbie Williams’ efforts just sounded like a bumptious lad playing dress-up in grandad’s old demob suit. Surprisingly agreeable.
VINTAGE VINYL
Oh, my God! This is an abomination, an affront to the powers of great music, and to the reputation of a singer whom I thought couldn’t sink any lower than he already had. Rod Stewart has no conception of how to phrase for jazz vocals; the best he can do is fall back on some old Sam Cooke-isms left over from the days when he was one of the finest white r’n’b-influenced singers of his time. Mostly, he tries to smoothly deliver the melodies, and thus fails to swing, fails to make the lyrics sound meaningful, fails to stamp anything with personality. No wonder he hires the likes of Dave Koz to play saxophone on this record! Nineteen years ago, when Linda Ronstadt clumsily meandered her way through these same sorts of standards, we could at least hear a hint of what made them so great in the first place. She hired Nelson Riddle, for Christ’s sake, to do the arrangements. Rod the Mod hires Phil Ramone! No, he wasn’t in the Ramones. He was producing Billy Joel. I always believed that Stewart had the potential to one day remember what made him so great 30 years ago, but this record is going to indisputably put the kibosh on my hopes. (Steve Pick)
ALL MUSIC GUIDE
It’s the kind of concept that seems brilliant on paper: revive the career of one of the great vocalists of the rock era by having him sing the great American pop songs of the pre-rock era. It was done before with Linda Ronstadt, and it worked well, so why not Rod Stewart, whose career was in shambles in 2002, following the disastrous modern R&B record, Human. Clive Davis, the man behind Santana’s comeback, masterminded the whole thing, and It Had to Be You…The Great American Songbook was born. Again, the whole thing sounds good on paper, but in practice, it’s a bit of a mixed bag. Certainly, following a throat operation, Stewart is singing better than he has in years, and he feels much more comfortable here than he did on Human, but the whole project has an artificial undercurrent that’s hard to shake, especially since the song selection, the arrangements, and the performances play it so safe they’re largely undistinguished. It’s not necessarily bad, but it doesn’t have much character outside of Rod’s voice, and his soulful rasp isn’t really suited for these songs. Nevertheless, this is exactly what it’s billed as — Rod sings the Great American Songbook — and it’s done with professionalism and ease, so it’s a pleasant listen. But it won’t replace Sinatra, of course, or even Ronstadt’s similar work with Nelson Riddle. (Stephen Thomas Erlewine)
BARNES & NOBLE
At heart, Rod Stewart has always been a balladeer, a vocal artist who can convey a story of deep emotion through song. So it shouldn’t be that surprising that this intrepid talent has turned to the Great American Songbook for current inspiration. (Fans of classic rock will note that on the very first recording that brought Stewart to fame — Jeff Beck’s Truth — he sang a very credible version of Ole’ Man River; from Show Boat.) On It Had to Be You Stewart takes on the cream of the cream: magnificent standards from the likes of Porter, Gershwin, Kern, and other masters of classic popular song. Wisely, no one involved tries to overtly contemporize the songs. A brisk swing rhythm is amended to many of the performances, though, turning what might usually be a slow ballad reading into a brisker jaunt. The transformation fits Stewart’s characteristically optimistic delivery. With skillful assistance from producers Richard Perry, Phil Ramone, and Clive Davis, Stewart finds his way into gems like “The Nearness of You,” “I’ll Be Seeing You,” and “That Old Feeling,” making each sound tailor-made for him. (William Pearl)
CD NOW
The title pretty much says it all: Rod Stewart, the onetime mod with the sharp haircut and the equally cutting raspy voice, the erstwhile carousing rocker turned disco tart, tackles a set of American standards, delivering a tasteful selection of pre-war era classics in a supper club jazz setting.
At times the 57-year-old Scottish-born singer is reminiscent of both Little Jimmy Scott and Ella Fitzgerald in tone and inflection. Gently crooning his way through this lightly instrumented and gently paced collection, Stewart captures the enchantment of Jerome Kern and Dorothy Field’s 1938 ballad “The Way You Look Tonight,” the delicious resignation of George and Ira Gershwin’s “Can’t Take That Away from Me,” also from that year, and the wistful reflection of the Marvell/Strachey/Link-penned 1936 hit “These Foolish Things” (which includes a saxophone solo from Dave Koz), creating a jazzy, an atypically suave, chill-out set. (Linda Laban)
AMAZON.CO.UK
Rod Stewart’s mellowing years have neatly coincided with a commitment to smart ballad choices and a generally warmer musical persona. Like many a pop singer, Stewart returns on It Had to be You to what’s become generally known as the Great American Songbook, that evergreen body of mid-20th century song craft that continues to inspire singers across oceans and generations. It’s said that Stewart has been vocalising many of these songs in private for years, and given the warm, human scale of most of the performances here, it’s not hard to believe. Producer Phil Ramone’s spare, unobtrusive arrangements inspire the singer to some of his most subtle and rewarding performances in years. Stewart’s slightly weary vocal tack handsomely suggests the smoke, booze and aching heart that lie at the best of these songs. Such back-to-the-future efforts can often sound like a last career gasp; here, they seem a refreshing breath of fresh air. (Jerry McCulley)
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