Concert review and photos: A farewell to Barry Manilow

Well, I guess this is goodbye.

That is, as long as you aren’t Cher, The Who, KISS or the McRib.

But your “One Last Time!” tour felt like a farewell when it pulled into The Arena at Gwinnett Center Thursday night.

Not that it was maudlin or anything. Quite the opposite, really, as you and your ace 10-piece band and three backup singers enthralled the mostly sold-out crowd with 100 minutes of treasured musical memories.

While it made me misty-eyed to realize that after attending a couple of dozen of your concerts over the years, this was the last time I would see you do that charmingly awkward spin during “It’s a Miracle” or witness thousands of usually sane middle-aged women turn into glowstick-gripping maniacs…I get it.

You’ll turn 72 on June 17, the day of your final concert in your hometown of Brooklyn. Clearly this is not a coincidence.

You’ve sold 80 million records and healed 80 gazillion hearts.

What more can we ask of you?

Credit: Melissa Ruggieri

Credit: Melissa Ruggieri

You still sound hearty, holding an impossibly long note on “Even Now” and belting the opening of “One Voice” a capella. Let’s see Ed Sheeran accomplish that in 50 years (and I love Ed Sheeran, but you get the point).

But while your voice and piano playing have hardly diminished and you looked super-snazzy in shimmery blue and later, white, jackets, it was hard to ignore the stiff gait caused by hips that have betrayed you for years.

The road is no friend to anyone over 40, so who can begrudge you for choosing to leave it in a couple of weeks?

Before you go, though, Barry, I have a few more things to say and a few thanks to share. Are we good with that? Cool.

I’ll miss watching you perform “Brooklyn Blues,” your ode to the borough that you championed long before living in Williamsburg required a six-figure salary. The Ruggieri family runs a few generations deep there, so hearing you joke that you took a “tasteful bulletproof car” to visit your old neighborhood prompted a knowing chuckle.

I’m sad that I’ll never again hear you play my husband’s favorite song, the soaring, swelling “Weekend in New England." I mean, I had to marry a guy who appreciated your musical mastery, right?

For that matter, I’ve been a music critic for close to two decades. Let me just say that it isn’t easy being a music critic who openly champions your catalog. But I’ve never cared if readers disagreed with my personal musical preferences and I still don’t. Anyone who can’t find value in your fluid melodies and sublime choruses is short-sighted, if you ask me.

Anyway, moving on…thank you for always mentioning the importance of music education in schools and for talking about how playing in your school orchestra shaped you as a musician.

"I wouldn't be standing on this stage if I hadn't joined that orchestra," you said Thursday night before playing "I Am Your Child" – and also mentioning the recent story in our paper about Atlanta schools eliminating music teacher positions .

You talk the talk with your Manilow Music Project and the instrument drives you shepherded in each city during this tour , including Gwinnett.

I hope someone is listening.

Speaking of local stuff, it was great to hear you recall about how much you enjoyed spending time in Atlanta when you and Bruce Sussman spent many weeks here two years ago crafting your musical, "Harmony," at the Alliance Theatre .

“You guys were so good to us with our show and to me over the years – thank you for that,” you said.

How proud you must be to have finally brought that pet project to fruition.

Credit: Melissa Ruggieri

Credit: Melissa Ruggieri

I’m grateful that you pulled out “Let’s Hang On” for this final tour. That original Jersey Boy, Frankie Valli, is certainly a unique voice in pop history, but I’m of the opinion that your version improves on the original.

I also loved that you compiled 13 of your hits into one masterfully produced medley – yeah, of course we all would have liked to hear the full versions of “New York City Rhythm,” “Somewhere Down the Road” and “This One’s for You,” but we’d be there until your centennial birthday if you played all of your hits and jingles in maximum form.

You know, most of your fans cherish your beautifully shaped songs because of the romantic ache that pulses in so many of them.

Since this is our last goodbye, I’ve gotta admit – never really a “Mandy” fan. I know. Stone me now, Fanilows.

“Copacabana,” however, now that’s a jaunty gem that will never leave my playlist, even if a decade from now we’re listening to music by picking it out of the ether.

But for me, the songs that have always resonated and soothed my soul are the ones about the dreamers and the misfits and survivors – primarily “All the Time” and “I Made it Through the Rain,” both of which prompted a lump in my throat when you played them on Thursday.

Here’s a quick story before I wrap up. When I was a senior in high school, I went on a mandatory spiritual retreat (Catholic school, you know) where we were supposed to talk about feelings and things that I really didn’t feel like sharing in a group environment.

So I just played “I Made it Through the Rain” and let you do the talking for me. After all, you did it so much better, even when you didn't write the songs that made the whole world sing.

So thanks, Barry, for having the words for so many of us through your songs. For making us smile in the bleakest moments. And for sharing your brilliant gift with us for 40-plus years.

There will never be another like you.

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