I’m going to sound like a dowdy old woman, but Swing When You’re Winning is blasphemy to the nth degree. Robbie Williams doing an album of old Sammy Davis Jr, Frank Sinatra, and Dean Martin numbers?
It’s fine if he can pulls it through. But with his thin voice, almost drowned by the orchestra and band accompanying him? Oh, please. Robbie Williams’ hubris has gotten the best of him: the songs here are wafer-thin, lack personality, and as memorable as a third-bit singer shelling for pennies at the roadside.
Most puke-inducing is the CD booklet, which compares Williams to the real thing. Even more sad is that youngsters today will hear his third-rate karaoke version of old classics and think that he’s the real and greatest thing ever.
Oh, and Nicole Kidman can’t sing Sinatra either.
Cantankerous muffin who loves boys that sparkle, unicorns, money, chocolates, and fantastical stories.