As once-in-a-career events go, Valli’s Chicago Theatre show delivered far more than the most ambitious concert promoter could dare promise. How often do a blockbuster musical and a sold-out concert with such a strong thematic link rub elbows on the same night, just 1,750 feet away from each other?
Not that Friday’s concert was beside the point, mind you. Performing close to two dozen songs over two-plus hours, Valli showed respectable stamina for a man of 70. Even if the Four Seasons frontman didn’t move much, even if his falsetto had less tonal edge and bite, Valli filled every song with heart and focus. What’s more, his pitch was dead-on: By my rough count, he missed less than a dozen notes all night, and each of those by a fraction.
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To be sure, Valli has taken a far different route than ’60s contemporaries such as Paul McCartney or the Beach Boys. While those acts have attempted to keep a rock edge, Valli brandishes the vibe of a Vegas or Atlantic City casino artist. Then there’s the new Seasons — four youthful backup bucks, three of whom hail from California. With their uber-toothy grins, close-cropped haircuts and arm-thrusting choreography, these crooners are more Backstreet Boys than Jersey Boys.
Yet never did the firepower of Valli’s backing armada overwhelm his vocals. Singing Cole Porter’s “I’ve Got You Under My Skin,” Valli displayed round tone and phrasing, his vibrato enveloping the melody as crisply as his black stage suit.
Valli acknowledged “Jersey Boys” only briefly, calling it “the icing on the cake” in his career. He spent much more stage banter hawking a new CD of ’60s cover songs. Taken one way, that might’ve seemed a bit crass. But taken another — especially after hearing Valli’s sumptuous version of “Call Me” — it reflected that for all the icing, Valli still has the hunger. And to this reviewer (who saw “Jersey Boys” on opening night) it seems Valli maintains a profound connection to the young Francis Castelluccio in the musical.
True, Valli’s older and slower. But Friday, he performed and pitched his new stuff as if just signed to Chicago’s Vee-Jay records, selling discs from a car trunk while entertaining a crowd at the corner tap.