The music of Johnny Mathis has been a constant here at Second Disc HQ. Our very first Second Disc Records release in conjunction with Real Gone Music was Johnny's Life Is a Song Worth Singing: The Complete Thom Bell Sessions back in 2015, which inaugurated a series encompassing nearly two dozen Mathis albums and compilations to date including a multi-disc Christmas music collection and the standalone CD premieres of two "lost" albums, I Love My Lady and The Island. Joe had the privilege of attending Johnny's final concert on Sunday night.

It's said that history is made at night, and the evening of Sunday, May 18 was no exception. The former Englewood Plaza vaudeville house in the city of Englewood, New Jersey (population 29,308 as of 2020) was the place where - in its current incarnation as the Bergen Performing Arts Center, or BergenPAC - Johnny Mathis bid farewell to a concert career that began 70 years ago in the clubs of San Francisco and subsequently took him around the world.

Mathis, who turns 90 in September, announced his retirement earlier this year as a result of age and memory issues. But as the 1,300+ audience members who packed BergenPAC to the rafters can attest, The Voice of Romance remains, simply, ageless and undiminished. A host of famous figures saluted him via video (including Barbra Streisand, Barry Manilow, Deniece Williams, and Clive Davis) while others filled the auditorium (Darlene Love, Dee Dee Bridgewater, Regina Belle, Al Roker, Liz Callaway) to savor one final performance in person. None are likely to forget this night.

Johnny Mathis pioneered the concept of the greatest-hits album in 1958 with Johnny's Greatest Hits, and remarkably, nearly half of that landmark album remained in his final setlist including "Chances Are" (No. 1, 1957), "The Twelfth of Never" (No. 9, 1957), "Wonderful! Wonderful!" (No. 14, 1956), "It's Not for Me to Say" (No. 5, 1957), and "Wild is the Wind" (No. 22, 1957). Yet these songs were - and are - far from museum pieces to be dusted off. While uncannily retaining the sweetness and timbre of the original records, Mathis imbued the songs with a deeply felt, genuine emotion that rendered them both timeless and of the moment - this particular moment, singer and audience in a tight pas de deux. For throughout his two-act, 33-song setlist, Mathis' voice pierced the hearts of all those in attendance: no artifice, just an unfathomably pristine and ethereal instrument capable of enveloping listeners like a warm, reassuring hug.

JOE PRESENTS JOHNNY MATHIS WITH "I LOVE MY LADY" (2019)

After apologizing to the crowd for a "frog in my throat," the singer's singer swooped with effortlessness into the top of his range for "Misty" and delivered on the bravura finish of "Moon River" with gusto. The quieter moments were no less spellbinding, whether the tender "Shenandoah," wistful "Two for the Road," hauntingly desperate "99 Miles from LA," or tear-jerking "You and Me Against the World." Yet joy was the primary emotion onstage: the joy of love ("Betcha by Golly Wow"), of lust ("It Had Better Be Tonight"), of music and dance itself ("Mas Que Nada").  For 70 years, Johnny Mathis has been a vehicle for that joy. When he sings the music and words of Henry Mancini, Johnny Mercer, Thom Bell, Linda Creed, Hal David, Erroll Garner, Johnny Burke, Sherman Edwards, Robert Allen, Al Stillman, Michel Legrand, or Marilyn Bergman, he becomes a living conduit to those much-missed talents.

So many lyrics on Sunday night took on a new meaning as we heard them live for the final time as sung by the man who introduced, or popularized, them:

Until the twelfth of never, I'll still be loving you...

Perhaps the glow of love will grow with every passing day/Or we may never meet again, but then, it's not for me to say...

With any luck, then I suppose, the music never ends...

MIKE AND JOHNNY (2017)

Michel Legrand and Alan and Marilyn Bergman's "How Do You Keep the Music Playing?" ended the concert following the joyful party-like atmosphere of Mathis' Brazilian medley. Throughout the concert, the singer had been playfully asking the audience for their forgiveness if he flubbed a lyric. (For the record, any such flubs were infrequent, minor and, in the case of "I'm on the Outside Looking In," handled with charm and musicality.) Midway through Legrand and the Bergmans' anthem, Mathis discarded the lyric folder that his longtime conductor, the wonderful Scott Lavender, had earlier handed him and to which he'd been referring. With a tiny but defiant gesture, he closed the book on the lyrics and belted the rest of the song with conviction and sincerity. It was a small but impactful gesture from an artist saying goodbye on his own terms. He then exited the stage with the same humility and grace with which he entered, having touched the hearts and, yes, the souls of 1,500 people.

For those two-and-a-half bittersweet yet triumphant hours, hands were held and tears were shed.  We were one, all breathing simultaneously, hanging on each word, and reliving so many memories even as we took in this very special present moment.  That ability to make a meaningful connection through song may be an artist's greatest gift, and it's one which Johnny Mathis has shared over and over again throughout a long and extraordinary career. His time on the concert stage may be over, but as he promised us a little before 9:30 p.m. on Sunday, the music never ends.​