In the name of hip

by Jim Trageser
This review first appeared in the Spring 2003 issue of Turbula.

There is something very good and right and balanced about sitting here in 2003 listening to a new album by Nat King Cole's kid brother. Thirty-eight years after Nat passed, Freddy carries the torch of torch music forward.

Yeah, we know, that age is over – Frank and Dino and Sammy are all gone, and Duke and Count are dead, too. But Freddy still has it, man – that unmistakable aura of hip. The ability to hold a note past the beat, to paint with silence better than most singers can with their voice. To take any song and make it his own.

Look, we'll never see a generation like that again – singers who could go up on stage and bare their very essence in the format of a three-minute pop song. But they're not all gone yet – do yourself a favor and give your soul a shot of Freddy Cole. You deserve it.