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	SPACEY DOES BOBBY NO SWEAT

Kevin Spacey didn’t take himself too seriously when he gave a performance "celebrating the music of Bobby Darin" at the Somerville Theatre last Sunday. "I don’t do this for a living," he quipped by way of explanation for the music stand that he moved so as not to block the view of patrons in the front row of the packed house. Which doesn’t mean that he didn’t give it his all, or that the accompanying big band conducted by former Darin musical director — and respected jazz pianist and arranger — Roger Kellaway didn’t sound swell. But Spacey never pretended that this night was more than it was: a way for him to plug his new Bobby Darin bio-pic, Beyond the Sea, and to "turn the spotlight" on "one of the finest entertainers this country has ever had, Mr. Bobby Darin."

And to judge by the age and the response of the audience, you’d have to figure there were more than a few Darin fans in attendance. There were waves of applause during the introductory chords to many of the 18 numbers and two encore pieces Spacey sang in the course of the 80-minute show. And when he announced that the short tour had played Atlantic City the previous night, there were appreciative oohs and aahs.

Darin (1936–1973) was an odd figure, inspired by Frank Sinatra but also, from his first charting single, his original 1958 rock-and-roll novelty number "Splish Splash," crossing over into all manner of pop. His 22 Top 40 hits included the jazzy "Mack the Knife" (almost a year before Ella Fitzgerald’s version), a revival of the Benny Goodman hit "Beyond the Sea," and ’60s folkie Tim Hardin’s "If I Were a Carpenter,"

At the Somerville, Spacey sang it all. He opened with Rogers & Hammerstein’s "Hello, Young Lovers," up-tempo and with impeccable swing. In fact, his time was good on all the up-tempo swingers. He joked easily with the audience, and he shimmied and shook. On ballads, his voice didn’t have the support you’d expect from a big-band singer in the Sinatra — or Darin — mold, and there was the occasional pitch correction, but at least it was live, and at least he corrected it.

But the weirdest time warps in this show about a performer who was maybe a bit anachronistic even in his own time came with rock-era Darin: his own protest anthem "Simple Song of Freedom," and "Bridge over Troubled Water," and, most oddly, Randy Newman’s "Sail Away," in which Spacey fudged some lyrics on this satire of the Middle Passage (it’s "Climb aboard little wog," not "Climb aboard little woman"). What was a guy in a tuxedo doing singing this song anyway? I guess we’ll have to see the movie to find out.