I’ve played Julie Budd’s new album. “Remembering Mr. Sinatra” teice now (in a row) and I frankly still can’t decide if I like it or not. Budd should really know what she is singing about: this album is a tribute to Sinatra, and she used to be the opener at his Las Vegas concert dates. But she never inherited any of his subtleties in interpreting material. Budd bulldozes through these songs like there’s no tomorrow. Everything is big, each note is huge that it’s exhausting to listen to at times. Each track is done as a “showstopper,” and there is glitz and glamour in all the arrangements. Where is the heartbreak in “I’m A Fool To Want You”? Where is the tenderness in “All the Way”? Budd has no time for that, but, you gotta give her credit. Though I have never seen her perform live, I am told that she gives all in every set, every song, every time. Even when she tries to slow it down, as in “in The Wee Small hours Of the Morning,” she infuses her reading with so much drama that it sounds like radio soap opera. I honestly did not know if someone was pulling my leg. On record, she does the same, and you feel the bold bombastic energy on record. I have to admit that it makes me sit up still while I am listening. Would Frank have wanted a tribute to him this way? I guess she would know.