" data-original-title="" title="">Frank Sinatra crackled over the PA, introducing Tony Bennett as "the greatest singer in the world." He was, The Voice declared, "gonna tear the place up"—a boast that seemed hardly credible as the dapper nonagenarian shuffled on stage for what was surely his adieu to Birmingham. But a boast that Bennett did his damndest to affirm in the following 90-plus minutes of a set that was a virtual compendium of 20th Century song. Of course the vagaries of age have exerted their toll one of the last icons of the jazz. His movement is more circumspect, his vocal delivery less dynamic (though still compelling) and memory sometimes a blur. After a sprightly "I'm Old Fashioned," he segued into the prelude of "It Amazes Me" only to forget the words. A heartbreaking moment was tempered by Bennett's self-deprecation. Our faces wet with tears, we willed him on—and on he went, to reprise "I'm Old Fashioned" as if performing it for the first time, all of us cheering the second climax even louder.

Bennett's spirit remains indomitable, and it was this indomitable spirit, in concert with a consummate professionalism and an almost clairvoyant compatibility with his excellent quartet comprising the redoubtable