Tony Danza

Sinatra & Stories

54 Below, NYC, July 2, 2026

Reviewed by Alix Cohen

Tony Danza is a likeable guy. Embraced by cabaret audiences after television, theater, and concert exposure, he arrived familiar to us. His performance seemed casual. and his stories had “boy next door” charm. Despite a show-business history, there’s always been something ingenuous about him.

“Come Fly with Me” (Jimmy Van Heusen/Sammy Cahn) bounced in on a traditional arrangement plus a guitar embellishment. Danza offered a bit of gentle scat in call/response with piano. “Pack up, let’s fly away” was one of many off-the-cuff lines that reflected Sinatra’s style.

“I’ve Got the World on a String” (Harold Arlen/Ted Koehler) and “I’ve Got You Under My Skin” (Cole Porter), with pretty, understated piano lead-in, followed in quick succession. There was, alas, no bridging musical connection. One song stopped, another started. This was also true of a later medley.

Danza seemed far less relaxed than usual. Hands fisted, he barely moved except for opening a palm, raising an arm, or tipping the microphone stand. He also showed little facial expression until three quarters of the way through the generous show. His accustomed ease appeared only in his storytelling and intermittent vaudeville jokes. (Ask him the one about standards.)

“You gotta see the view up here, man! … I wanna tell some stories about the man I think is the greatest entertainer of all time. I got to be around Frank Sinatra …Going to his house for dinner, you know whose music is playing? Frank Sinatra’s!”

Danza’s encounters with “Ol’ Blue Eyes” were warm and he inevitably spoke well of his hero. His awareness of Sinatra began in childhood with his exposure due to his mother’s uber-fandom as an “OB” (“original bobby-soxer”).

When he appeared on television’s Taxi, Danza got “a swelled head.” His mom would declare he had no right until he was successful enough to introduce her to Sinatra, a promise her son fulfilled. Colorfully paralleling the influence of Italian mothers, it was clear he thought of Sinatra and himself as paesano/countrymen. Perhaps Sinatra did as well.

“I Can’t Believe That You’re in Love with Me” (Jimmy McHugh/Clarence Gaskill) included a brief, amiable tap dance. His looking at his feet didn’t project confidence, but his loosening up was welcome.

Later, on ukulele, Danza led a charming, understated version of “Guess I’ll Hang My Tears Out to Dry” (Sammy Cahn/Jule Styne). A few more of these please. The Jerry Lieber/Mike Stoller “Love Potion No. 9,” on the other hand, came out of nowhere and related to nothing. (Sinatra never recorded it.)

“Every stage of his life he sang about, he seemed to be reliving it” preceded “It Was a Very Good Year” (Ervin Drake). Perched on a stool with only guitar accompanying, Danza interpreted the song (well) as melancholy rather than wistful. It landed differently than Sinatra’s recording.

“Just in Time” (Styne/Betty Comden & Adolph Green) and “Luck Be a Lady” (Frank Loesser) evinced more expression and movement. It was good to see him sustain a smile.

Some disconnects: After telling us the privileged Sinatra arrived on an Arizona set by helicopter, but took considerable time with cast and crew, Danza sang “The Lady Is a Tramp.” Surely the pronoun could’ve been adjusted and/or original lyrics been added.

Recalling a period during which the icon had trouble with his voice, was fired from Columbia, and embarked on a heartbreaking marriage to Ava Gardner, Danza offered a volubly loud, up-tempo “After You’ve Gone” (Turner Layton/Henry Creamer), which seemed more than a bit inappropriate. What about Arlen/Johnny Mercer’s “One for My Baby (and One More for the Road)?” “I Don’t Remember Growing Up,” an utterly lovely encore and performance, bore no relation to the subject at hand.

It was a baffling evening from the usually relatable artist.

Danza was backed by James Sampliner (MD/pianist), Dave Shoup (guitar), John Arbo (bass), and Ed Caccavale (drums).