A Quote by Ian Brown

I went to a friend's 40th in Manchester, and there was a karaoke machine, and no one was having a go. My mate said, 'No one's singing because you're in the room.' I said, 'Who am I, Frank Sinatra?' They made me sing flipping 'My Star' to a backing track that sounded like '80s Roxy Music. It was pretty embarrassing, but I did it.
I'm awful at karaoke, but if I did have to sing, I'd go for my favourite Frank Sinatra song 'I've Got You Under My Skin.' The fact I love Frank is my grandfather's doing: he drummed it into me from a very early age that Frank Sinatra is God.
One time we were having dinner and some guy came by and took a potato off of Frank Sinatra's plate. And Frank said, “Hey pal, are you hungry?” The guy says, “yeah.” Frank said, “Sit down.” And he gave him his dinner. I thought for sure there was gonna be trouble from the guys surrounding Frank, but Frank says, “Jeez, relax, the man's hungry.”
I don't have a nice singing voice! Particularly if I've had a few beers, that's when I'll get up and go on the karaoke. I'll usually try to murder a Frank Sinatra song like 'My Way'. In my head I sound exactly like him, but when you watch the footage back, evidently not!
The [Frank] Sinatra interpretation of the music, as opposed to some other music that you were listening to - where you felt like they were singing at you - you felt Sinatra was singing to you. It's a very intimate art form, and that's what I responded to - the intimacy of his performance.
I've been singing since I could talk, pretty much. My dad was really musical and taught me how to sing harmonies and got me a karaoke machine with tape decks.
I met the [Frank] Sinatra family for a [performance] I did for his hundredth birthday and one of the first things Sinatra's daughters said to me was, "I'm so glad you make your own beautiful arrangements now."
I heard Nixon speak. He was talking about free enterprise, getting the government off your back, lowering the taxes and strengthening the military. Listening to Nixon speak sounded more like a breath of fresh air. I said to my friend, I said, "What party is he?" My friend said, "He's a Republican." I said, "Then I am a Republican."
Rick Rubin said, well, I don't know that we will sell records. He said, I would like you to go with me and sit in my living room with a guitar and two microphones and just sing to your heart's content everything you ever wanted to record. I said, that sounds good to me. So I did that. And day after day, three weeks, I sang for him.
I went to my dad when I was 17 and said, 'I want to be a country music star.' Which every dad loves to hear. And he said, 'I want you to go to college.' So we had a discussion. And I'm pretty stubborn. I'm a lot like him. And he said, 'If you go to college and graduate, I'll pay your first six months of rent in Nashville.' So he bribed me.
Frank Sinatra said this great thing, that singing isn't about singing in tune, or great technical singing. It's about making people believe in the story you're telling.
Frank Sinatra discovered me at a nightclub called P.J.'s in Hollywood. It was 1962. He used to come in there a lot with all his big star friends. I was so nervous to see him. I've only had one idol in my life, and that was Frank Sinatra.
What makes Gucci Mane Gucci Mane is like what made Frank Sinatra Frank Sinatra - it's just him. He's trap's Frank Sinatra.
It's OK if people say I sound like Frank Sinatra. I just don't want them to think I am Frank Sinatra.
When we recorded the song I Just Can't Stop Loving You, my vocal range is a little higher than Michael's range. He had me re-sing the demo in the new key. Then doing that he filmed me singing this demo in the new key. I actually said, "What are you doing? Why are you filming this?" He said to me, "Because I want to sing it like you. You sound so great and I want to sing it just like you." I said, "Oh, great, Mike, my friends are really going to believe me when I tell them that Michael Jackson wanted to sing this song just like me." We laughed about that.
When I was a kid in the late '60s and early '70s, my parents and their friends would play the records of Andy Williams, Dean Martin, Frank Sinatra, and Perry Como, music with string arrangements and men singing songs that sounded sad whether they were or not.
Somebody rang me up the other day and said 'Yellow' was on a karaoke machine. That made me genuinely excited. It's got a nice beat.
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