Frank Basile’s deep, rich, baritone surrounds the Metropolitan Room like a big, warm hug. You can almost hear pleased sighs as the audience relaxes into anticipation of an evening’s fine entertainment. Operatically trained, the vocalist is relatively untried in the cabaret genre.
Opening with “I Still Get Jealous” (Jule Styne/Sammy Cahn), a song his father sang to his mother on their first date, Basile recounts the kind of romance personified by old black and white Hollywood films. “Memories Are Made of This”* is a highly autobiographical show utilizing songs he’s performed in the past or those so closely illustrating his story their segue feels seamless. Patter is engaging and amusing, if a tad too lengthy. Basile has the gift of making his “act” seem conversational.
The title song follows. Its interpretation is balladic rather than bouncy as generally rendered, underscored by just a hint of swing. “Learn a trade, Frankie,” his father told him, “Be a plumber or a lawyer, but be a singing plumber or lawyer.” It was a bit like telling a fish to get out of the water, learn to walk, and swim weekends.
At 12, Basile delivered what he considers to be his first paid performance, earning two candy bars and a lollipop from a teacher in appreciation of a song. He told his parents what he wanted to do and received their full support. A moving version of “If I Sing” (Richard Maltby Jr./David Shire) describes his feelings. Register changes seem effortless. His hands are expressive, used minimally to good effect.
While studying voice with Todd Duncan, George Gershwin’s personal choice for Porgy in the original Porgy and Bess, Basile sang Italian arias at Busch Gardens. He earned $450 a week at the age of 18 and drove to school in a restored 1967 Chevy Camaro. “I’ve Got the World on a String” (Harold Arlen/Ted Koehler) is the perfect illustration. Basile’s joy is infectious.
Two numbers performed at Busch Gardens follow: The Neapolitan, “O sole mio” (Giovanni Capurro/ Eduardo di Capua) and Torna a Suriento (Ernesto de Curtis) Classic red-checkered tablecloth arrangements buoy lush, soaring vocals. “That was a fun summer. Do what you love to do, right?” Basile says with a grin. One of the two would’ve made his point. When, later, a fitting verse of “This is the Army” (Irving Berlin) vamps into “America the Beautiful,” Katharine Lee Bates/ Samuel A. Ward), the issue rises again. Both the second aria and the anthem stand out awkwardly from the rest of a genuinely cohesive show as demonstrations of talent rather than contributing elements.
His parents divorced, then met again to explore reconciliation.“For the Good Times” (Kris Kristofferson) sweetly represents the attempt. Backed by the artful Joe Gianono on guitar and supported by a simple, lovely arrangement, he sings with great sensitivity and restraint. A little crack in his voice I choose to think of as inadvertent couples with glistening eyes to dramatize the number.
Basile takes us through his stint in “The Singing Sergeants” American Air Force band, the death of his father, reconnection with his mother, and high point performances as widely varied as soloing with The Mormon Tabernacle Choir and acting as Don Bartolo in Jerome Hines’ production of The Barber of Seville (Gioachino Rossini). The last part of the show is focused on his romance with, and deep devotion to the actress Celeste Holm, who became his wife, and who is present in the audience. “Impossible” (Rodgers and Hammerstein, from Cinderella) an unusually unaffected choice, expresses Basile’s sincere surprise at having found this love. The rarely heard “On My Way to You” (Alan & Marilyn Bergman) leaves the audience dabbing at their eyes and reaching for mates.
About a third of the way into the show, what was polished but a little stiff becomes completely charming. For the most part, the singer looks out and connects with his audience, an always welcome gesture I’m sure will increase as he grows to trust us.
Frank Basile is a welcome throwback: a solid, straight-shooting entertainer with a beautiful voice, traditional taste, graceful manner, and integrity of presentation. I’m sure we’ll see a lot more of him.
*(Terry Glkyson/Richard Dehr/Frank Miller), popularized by Dean Martin in 1956
Memories Are Made of This
Frank Basile, Vocals
Bob Goldstone–Musical Director/Pianist
Bass–Boots Maleson
Guitar–Joe Gianono
Director–John Richard Thompson
The Metropolitan Room
34 West 22nd St.
212-206-0440
September 20 and 27
