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La photo de Sinatra me fait penser à cette extraordinaire interview de Quincy Jones à propos de The Voice:

"Yeah, but I came up with Ray Charles and Frank Sinatra, man.I didn't have a chance. Seven double Jack Daniel's an hour. Get out of here. Ray Charles, Frank—those guys could party. Sinatra and Ray Charles, them motherfuckers invented partying." Jones shows me the ring on his little finger. Sinatra, he went on, "wore that for 40 years. When he died, he left it to me. This is his family crest from Sicily."


You wear it every day?

"I can't take it off."

And you think of him?

"Yes sir. I love him. He was bipolar, you know. He had no gray. He either loved you with all of his heart or else he'd roll over your ass in a Mack truck in reverse. He was tough, man. I saw all of it. You know, I'd see him try to fight—he couldn't fight worth a shit. He'd get drunk, and Jilly, his right-hand guy, stone gangster, would get behind him and break the guy's ribs. Man. What memories. We had a good time, though. We'd do one-nighters, I'd fly with him on his Learjet, he said, 'Let's get on the plane before Basie's drummer's cymbal stops ringing.…' Six Playboy bunnies on that."

Should I ask what happened next?

"No. It was fun, man. Always been fun. You gotta enjoy life."