Burt, you're the man!

Shouted the woman in the stalls. She was half crazed on HRT and Palma violets. And she was one of the younger members of the audience. Hell, I'm no spring chicken, but about 90% of the audience were sporting false teeth and waving white leather kid gloves they'd bought for a tea dance before the First World War. But then Burt isn't young anymore either, an 85 year old man walked onto stage. He's got the all American tan, and the whitest, biggest pair of trainers you've ever seen. Fuck knows how he managed to lift his feet. They looked heavy, and Burt is frail. When he finally got some momentum going, he looked a little like a Thunderbird marionette making it's way to the piano. But then he sits down. And then you hear the songs. There are three amazing singers. When the male singer starts 'This guys in love with you' I feel my eyes start to prick. And I'm pretty certain I hear half a dozen Tena lady piss pants burst in the front row. Burt is in charge, he directs the band with precision, and the singers obey every flick of his fingers. The most moving part of the evening was when Burt plays and sings 'Alfie'. It was heartbreaking. Just his voice and piano. It's tender and true. His voice has gone of course, and he struggles to half talk half sing the words. But it doesn't matter. Burt fucking Bacharach is singing and playing 'Alfie'. And despite the sound of my beating heart, whistling hearing aids and humbugs being sucked, you can hear a pin drop.