Talent’s Moot without Style

Few Americans have left so lasting, so indelible, so definitive a mark on popular culture as did the late, great Francis Albert Sinatra.

Despite the actual up-and-downs of a complex career, Ol’ Blue Eyes remains the gold standard for musical showmanship and prowess some 20 years after his passing.

On Sunday evening, in honor of what would have been Sinatra’s upcoming 100th birthday, CBS aired an especially memorable event, “Sinatra 100 — An All Star Grammy Concert,” featuring appearances and performances by music legends like Quincy Jones and Tony Bennett, as well as some of the most popular contemporary artists.

The respect and honor shown to “The Chairman of the Board” by the likes of Adam Levine, Lady Gaga and Nick Jonas was unexpected and noteworthy. Even Mr. Snarky Pants — Seth MacFarlane of “Family Guy” fame — revealed himself to be a devoted Sinatra fan and talented crooner in his own right.

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Of course, none of the performers featured Sunday evening could really hold a candle to Sinatra, but the palpable acknowledgement of this fact was part of the program’s charm. It was a humble and reverent tribute not only to a master of his art, but to an entire era — a time before auto-tune and social media.

For one night anyway, modern performers left their tacky wardrobes, superficial lyrics, and gauche social graces behind, and sincerely channeled the classic American crooner. The musicians in Las Vegas paid tribute in the best possible way. In what was certainly a stretch for some, they managed to show class, dressing like adults and singing with the passion and articulation of a true star.

The effect was both uplifting and depressing. On the one hand, there’s no question talent in American music is rich and varied. At the same time, the element missing in modern music has never been more obvious.

That missing element? In a word, style.

Popular music is hardly about entertainment and enjoyment anymore. What “sticks” is often the result of some unholy alliance between tacky performance art and computer-generated, manufactured sounds emanating from someone’s laptop. Fashion choices are inspired by middle-school hipsters, and street cred is established by adding tattoos. Losing relevance? Adding ink will make you relevant.

None of this is to say that the style and etiquette standards of the Sinatra’s time were entirely authentic. Sinatra was a skirt-chasing, booze-guzzling maniac in his private life, by all accounts (even his own). He was a diva and difficult to work with.

But the man communicated class and style with every fiber of his being while on stage. He bled sincerity and took his craft seriously. It mattered to him. And he conveyed it in the way he walked, talked, and dressed. It didn’t make Sinatra a better human being, but it did make him a cultural legend worthy of nostalgia.

Talent is abundant, as any episode of “The Voice” or “American Idol” competition reveals. Style, however, is a special quality – je nais se quois – that’s worth developing. The combination of raw talent and classic style like Sinatra’s makes him unforgettable.