A light and languid take on Sinatra by Dylan in his reflective years, a paean from one great to another across a time that I think separates more than combines. There are two distinctive aspects musically: Dylan’s voice is a delicate, even tender growl compared with the ripped shreds of more recent personal offerings; the lounge orchestrations [OK, pedal-steel lounge] make it very much a dining-room with cocktails listen. I’ve read reverential reviews that seem to mistake legendary status for a sustainable badge across whatever is contemporary. In the fad that is aging rock icons visiting a ‘great’ songbook, this is fine enough in that usually commercial genre, and I respect Dylan’s intentions enough as honourable in their homage. Individual songs can resonate in their interpretation, like I'm A Fool To Want You and What'll I Do, but not as a lackluster whole, and it would never be more than background aural massaging for me, perhaps after a hard spell of head-banging, or getting high on some original psychedelia.
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