Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons were a little ahead of my time-but not by much-and I grew up with the music. Still, that was a gazillion years ago, in another century, and I did not hold out much hope that their recent show at the Kravis Center would be much better than misplaced nostalgia. Old news. Sad older guy trying to bring back the magic.
Well, I was wrong-dead wrong. Frankie Valli sounded almost exactly the same and his new “Four Seasons” were on the mark. He walked like a man, sang like a Frankie. Big girls don’t cry but I got a lump in my throat. Who wouldn’t? Here was this 76-year-old man singing about teenage heartbreak and it all came rushing back: first loves, first dates, school dramaâ – “whole innocent era before all hell would break loose for the next 40 some years”ending up here, with a generation that is pierced, tattooed, plugged in and texting. Or sexting.
But everyone in the audience forgot about all of that this weekend for a couple of hours, forgot how long ago it was that we were kids. We even remembered all the words. It was a gift of a show, or as the man himself would say. “Oh what a night…”
