After languishing for decades on old jukeboxes, wedding-DJ playlists and your mom’s favorite radio stations, the music of Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons — think “Sherry,” “Big Girls Don’t Cry,” “Rag Doll,” “December, 1963 (Oh, What a Night),” and so on — has returned with a vengeance.
“Jersey Boys,” a 2006 Broadway musical about the group’s rise to stardom (and inevitable fall), was a critical and commercial smash, winning four Tonys (including Best Musical), two Drama Desk Awards and a Grammy for Best Musical Show Album. Since then, on any given week, the production is probably running somewhere in the world — across the U.S., in Canada, the U.K., Australia, South Africa, Asia and elsewhere — while Clint Eastwood’s film adaptation did respectable, though not mindblowing, business at the box office last year.
Arguably, the Four Seasons never vanished. If you grew up around New York (especially in New Jersey) in the late ’70s, as I did, the songs were everywhere — daily reminders of vintage rock and roll’s rollicking thump, topped with edgy harmonies, universal themes and Valli’s singular voice, which dipped from a soaring falsetto to a growling, mid-range sneer on a whim. Later, dorm-room parties usually ended with “December, 1963 (Oh, What a Night)” blasting from open windows, without a trace of irony.
That was all before the success of “Jersey Boys.”
Bob Gaudio founded the Four Seasons with Valli, Tommy DeVito and Nick Massi. He wrote most of their songs, and others you’d know; as a teen, Gaudio wrote “Short Shorts” for the Royal Teens, his high school group, and hit the road alongside Buddy Holly, Sam Cooke and Jackie Wilson. He later produced records for Frank Sinatra, Neil Diamond (including “You Don’t Bring Me Flowers,” a 1978 chart-topping duet with Barbra Streisand) and Diana Ross. On a handshake, Gaudio splits his Four Seasons songwriting royalties with Valli (who, in turn, gives back half of his performance fees); if that doesn’t say something about his character, nothing does.
“Jersey Boys” arrives at the Toyota Oakdale Theatre in Wallingford on Tuesday, Feb. 3, for eight shows, wrapping on Feb. 8. We spoke with Gaudio about the production and his incredible career.
CTNow: You wrote “Short Shorts” at 15. How many songs had you written at that point?
Bob Gaudio: You’re really testing my memory. A few. You know, it was more about a high school band, and things just started happening. [“Short Shorts”] developed as an instrumental. We played it in parking lots, at weddings, in church basements. And it developed into what it did because a producer named Leo Rodgers. We were backing one of his groups that had a hit record at the time, and he heard us, and he invited us to a studio, just to lay a little demo down. It turned out to be better than everyone thought, and then he said, “Well, instrumentals are on the decline. Maybe it needs some lyrics or a chant or something like that.” So that’s how it developed. I was driving with Tom Austin up the main drag in Bergenfield, New Jersey, and saw a couple of lovely young ladies in shorts, and here you go.
CTNow: What were some of the early indications for you that you could write songs and that they would be good, and also well received?
BG: Well, having a hit record at 15 was a pretty good start. Once you get that feeling, that adrenaline rush, it’s hard to forget.
CTNow: You took a temporary absence from school (it turned out to be a little bit longer) and were touring around with people like Buddy Holly, Sam Cooke, Jackie Wilson, on and on. That must have been just mind-blowing for you.
BG: It was mind-blowing, and most of the names that you just mentioned were on the first tour we did. We did eight weeks on a bus, and it was a big show. It was I think called Irving Feld’s Shower of Stars. [Feld] also owned Ringling Brothers and the like, so it was just a huge show. Everybody did one or two songs, unless they were the headliner. Sam Cooke, or Jackie Wilson, did three or four. But guys like us, we did one song. We did our hit and we went off into the audience to watch the rest of the show, which was great. At 15 or 16, it meant free tickets.
CTNow: What did you learn from watching those performers?
BG: Well, you certainly learn how to interact with an audience. Feeling what I heard on radio live, with the energy of the audience surrounding you, is another experience. It’s kind of like what I feel when I see “Jersey Boys” now, because on the stage we never really had the experience of what an audience was getting out of it… I’d rather be on the [watching] side of the stage.
CTNow: When you first saw bits and pieces of the production of “Jersey Boys,” was it bizarre seeing parts of your life reenacted on stage?
BG: Yeah, I mean I hate to use the same word over and over, but it was surreal. There’s just no better word to define the circumstances. Both Frankie and I were stunned. We saw the show from beginning to end, and we were just riveted. And keep in mind when it’s your life story, you’re going in there ready to say, “No, nah, that wasn’t right, this should’ve been that…” We both looked at each other at intermission and said, “My god, if this ever gets to New York, can you imagine?” So it’s a nice way to see your life pass before you and to like what you saw. The production and the way they presented it was just stunning.
CTNow: When I listen to Four Seasons recordings now, part of what’s remarkable is the range of voices that you hear. Was there ever any question that the music was all about the voice back then?
BG: Well, personally, for me, if I had my way I would’ve been a drummer. The only reason I didn’t play drums was my father would’ve killed me if I had a huge set of drums in the house. So I was second-best at playing piano. I’m very drum-oriented, very rhythm-conscious. That might account for the licks and openings of records with drum patterns. Because I’m a frustrated drummer, the rhythm to me was as important as the harmonies, and maybe unlike the Beach Boys — I think you’d be better saying that about the Beach Boys, because they were all about the harmony from my viewpoint. The rhythm tracks were a little on the lighter side, and ours were more in your face. So that may be one of the big differences between the two apart from Frankie’s voice, obviously, which is the biggest difference.
CTNow: Another thing I hear is that you’re singing in the inflection of the street. There wasn’t much of an effort, it seems, to remove the New Jersey accent from the vocals.
BG: I don’t know that that was intentional one way or another. I think we just did what we did. It didn’t feel unusual to us, I mean, maybe the rest of the country and the world heard that New Jersey thing, but I think if you asked Frankie the same question, he would say, “What New Jersey accent?” And I think I can hear a Brooklyn accent more so than a New Jersey accent, or the Bronx even, where I [first] grew up. But we just made records. We didn’t do anything conscious, except keep our life stories under wraps early on.
CTNow: There are some pretty advanced chord progressions tucked into some of those songs. Did you have a background in music theory, classical music or jazz?
BG: I played classical and jazz for a number of years before things started happening. It’s pretty ironic that I would’ve played that and learned that, intervals and what have you, singing to Louis Armstrong solos when I was a kid, and then to come out with three chords and hardly any lyrics. But yeah, I had those influences. And later on it started to show in some of the work we did. I found a few more chords in my vocabulary. I think we’re all influenced by the foundation that was laid early on, and it came out later. It slowly seeped in. Musically, having traveled when I was 15 and with those artists you mentioned earlier, and also having a classical and jazz background, I was equipped to do more, while loving rock and roll. I grew up like every other kid: Bill Doggett, honky-tonk music, some instrumentals.
CTNow: Was there a secret thrill to be able to inject a little bit of advanced harmony into what was expected to be three or four chords?
BG: Yeah, of course, I loved doing that, and we pulled it off for the most part. Sometimes it got a little crazy, but it’s fun to be able to do that, and of course, I had Frankie. Frankie was able to do anything. He had a big palette of jazz in his brain from his early days, because he loved singing jazz. When you talk about people like “Little” Jimmy Scott, who was a jazz singer: he never made it really big, but he was an influence on everybody who came from Newark. Most people still don’t know who he is. [Scott passed away in 2014.] But I think we all jump into that from time to time, our memories, our influences, so [Valli] could do it. If I wrote something, he could pretty much sing it.
CTNow: Looking back, did Frankie Valli know just how good his voice was?
BG: Well, enough people told him, but I don’t know how much of that really sinks in. But Frankie’s always been about the music. I think that’s what we have in common as a partnership. We’re friends of course, like brothers, and we talk at least once or twice a week. But I think it’s always about the music. That’s where we came from. We had a mutual admiration of the same styles of music, so he and I just clicked, and we were able to take it here, there and everywhere when we felt it was time to do it. It was a good situation.
CTNow: What’s the proudest moment of your career so far?
BG: Well, you can’t give me one.
CTNow: Maybe a couple.
BG: There’s the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, which is obvious. There’s the Songwriters Hall of Fame, and then there’s the Tony Award for “Jersey Boys.” And my kids. What am I up to, four? If I keep it under five, that’s pretty good.
CTNow: Does the Songwriters Hall of Fame hold a special sort of significance, one that reflects the time you put into mastering your craft?
BG: Yeah, I think if you had to choose between the Songwriters Hall of Fame and the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, I would have to say the Songwriters, because I don’t consider myself a performer. Frankie, if he wrote and sang a performance, he would probably say the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame because he is primarily an artist and performer. So for me, it’s kind of a no-brainer. Yes that’s my craft, that’s what I love doing, that’s what I started doing, and performing is distant second for me. I’m very happy not being on that stage. But I appreciate it all.
JERSEY BOYS plays from Tuesday to Sunday, Feb. 3 to 8, at the Toyota Oakdale Theatre in Wallingford. Tickets start at $27. Information: oakdale.com.
