Be it opera, lieder, rock, pop or Gregorian chants, no singer should be
licensed to perform without taking lessons from Rosemary Clooney.  That
was true during the past 55 years of her career, but tonight, the idea
struck home with a new, urgent poignancy.

Appearing with the San Francisco Symphony, Clooney performed with her
hallmark laser-sharp delivery, superb parsing of the text and phrasing of
the music all intact.  She still reaches out to the audience, creating a
compelling connection almost instantly.  And when that happens, the ravages
of time, illness, obesity all disappear and -- as is the case with Thomas
Quasthoff -- there is only the music and a state of bliss.  Everything is
as it was through the decades...  with one exception.

Clooney has trouble walking, but then she doesn't perform as an athlete.
She also has audible, obvious difficulty breathing -- and singing without
adequate breathing cannot be done.  But Clooney does it.  There is the
labored breathing when she talks or just stands -- and then she sings and
the lungs perform flawlessly.  This is pretty much physically impossible,
but the Clooney technique, experience, genius combine to make the
impossible happen.

"Nice and Easy," "Limehouse Blues," "Love (More Than You Know)," "Strike
Up the Band," "Thanks for the Memory" and "Hey There!" go by, with John
Oddo holding up the other end of the sky.  The performances are affecting,
enchanting, *perfect*.  All this and the old-time show-biz presence, from
dismissing the standing ovation with "Please sit down, I'll forget the
words otherwise" to stories about meeting the Pope, her grandchildren,
and so on.  In the middle of a musical freak show (see below), Clooney is
everybody's favorite aunt.  And again, all that disappears when she sings,
leaving only an ageless, perfect performance.

What a contrast that is with the rest of a shockingly miserable evening.
Amiable George Daugherty prostituted the same San Francisco Symphony that
otherwise is becoming a major orchestra in the world with an ugly, noisy,
bombastic "My Fair Lady," an ugly, noisy, bombastic "Strike Up the Band"
(Clooney successfully rehabilitating the music later on), and so on.  Is
Loewe really more difficult to play than Mahler?

Then, because Clooney and John Bayless share an enthusiasm for the
same soap opera or so we are told, the four-foot redhead was given
the opportunity to tickle the ivories in a not entirely successful
cocktail-lounge version of "Nessun Dorma" (interpolating fragments of
"The Impossible Dream" for some unfathomable reason).  Bayless also paid
homage to "my dearest friend, Leonard Bernstein" with variations on the
"West Side Story" "America" in the style of Beethoven.  I am not making
any of this up.  The orchestra musicians (who had nothing to be proud
of tonight) struggled heroically to keep a straight face.

It was under such circumstances that Clooney's unique artistry triumphed
once again.  Imagine what she can still do under acceptable circumstances.
It's magic.

[log in to unmask], SF
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