Philip Clark

I wish the cult of Frank Sinatra would end

Walking around central London, I’ve been struck by how many shows Frank Sinatra has been performing in town recently. He played a string of concerts in July at the Royal Albert Hall (which as any schoolboy knows was actually named after Sinatra’s middle name), and he is currently performing an extended summer season at the London Palladium. Quite how Frank is going to cope this Friday evening, when this eternal Sinatra séance requires his spirit to put in an appearance as his life and music is celebrated at the Proms, at the same time as he gigs at the Palladium, I’m not sure.

The good news for Sinatra fans is that death has comprehensively failed to stall their hero’s career; in fact, since breathing his last in 1998, there have been noticeably more live events where the spectre of Sinatra has been present than when he was alive.

In July, the fruit of Sinatra’s own loins, dolled up in a Vegas tuxedo, took central stage at the Albert Hall.

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