TONIGHT'S not quite the night, but there's not long to wait now until Rod Stewart packs them in at Swansea's Liberty Stadium — on Wednesday.
Careers like Rod's just aren't going to happen again. From his days of Sam Cooke emulation and adoration in The Steampacket, to being in the rock 'n' roll gang we all wanted to hang out with, to solo chart domination, Rod is a proper rock star among too many pale imitations. His recent incarnation as delicate crooner of the Great American Songbook has been a revelation too.
Who knew the hard-partying rock 'n' roll animal could summon up the kind of alluring coo that Billie Holiday made her own, or that he could wriggle into silky Cole Porter, Gershwin and Mercer numbers so elegantly?
He says, of this latter-day incarnation: "I suppose you could use the word addiction. If you fancy yourself a bit of a singer these songs are like chocolate."
For a career that has lasted for around five decades and counting Rod has had precious few dips in quality but these days particularly he seems to be having a ball with some of his favourite material, with lovely results. So his 2009 Soulbook album saw him revisit some of the hot little numbers from his clubland days, he is making plans for a blues disc with his old mucker Jeff Beck, and for this latest Songbooks album has mopped up some of the gems he hasn't yet touched from the pre-rock 'n' roll era.
I know it has taken a while, but Rod has even ditched that hideous leopard-print and lycra look and discovered what great things a beautifully-cut suit can do for a man of a certain age, so finally his image matches his musical stature.
It all adds up to a pretty unmissable gig, I would say.
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