Dionne Warwick: the great voice is faltering, but she’s still a heartbreaker

The immensely successful singer can't belt them out like she used to, but her final European tour shows she can still charm the crowd

It is no surprise that Dionne Warwick, at 81, has decided to stop touring in Europe. The singer’s current Farewell Tour will be her last, she has said. And it is a decision well made. Despite her charisma, warmth and extensive back catalogue of songs, Warwick’s voice is showing the ravages of her storied six-decade career. A frayed voice is an inevitable consequence of advancing years and being responsible for an astonishing 69 hit singles since 1962. But, at this first of two shows at London’s Palladium, Warwick was at times a shadow of her former self.

Visibly frail, she walked slowly to the centre of the Palladium stage in sequined baby blue trousers and top. She opened with what she called “a disclaimer”: she has recently had surgery on her leg and so would sit for the show. “I had planned five flips,” she noted wryly.

The New Jersey-born singer’s repertoire falls into two categories: the songs of Burt Bacharach and Hal David, who count Warwick as their most prolific interpreter, and her Eighties hits such as the Bee Gees-penned Heartbreaker. The first full-length song, 1964’s Walk On By, was typical of Bacharach and David’s songwriting: never has scorn sounded so jaunty. But some notes were strained, their duration curtailed.

Still, Warwick knows how to deliver a zinger. She sang the refrain of I’ll Never Fall In Love Again about a guy giving a girl “enough germs to catch pneumonia” after which he’ll “never phone ya” with the glorious relish it deserved. Alfie, the theme tune to the 1966 Michael Caine film, was quietly stirring.

Warwick was backed by a four-piece band, including her son David Elliott on drums, and a 16-piece string section. Backing singers and a horn section would have helped thicken the sound, as was proven when she sang I Say A Little Prayer as a duet with son David (Warwick’s version was recorded in 1966, two years before Aretha Franklin’s perhaps better known rendition). It was splendid.

Dionne WarwickCredit: Debbie ODonnell

She didn’t perform Trains and Boats and Planes, which may have been a tactful omission given the transport issues crippling the UK right now. Also missing was Wishin’ and Hopin’ (which Warwick recorded in 1962, two years – again – before Dusty Springfield’s better known version). The song’s lyrics about nabbing a man by doing all the things he likes to do and wearing your hair “just for him” are perhaps just too outdated.

Warwick’s later hits, including Heartbreaker, garnered the biggest singalongs. It was a weekend for celebrating much-loved matriarchs’ long careers, and the respect in the Palladium for Warwick’s achievements was palpable. But the music world is evolving fast. Two nights before seeing Warwick, I went to Abba’s virtual “Abba-tar” concert in east London. I couldn’t help but draw comparisons between the two events.

It is now possible to repackage live music in new and different ways, which begs an interesting question. Is it better to see computer-generated youthful versions of old artists performing when they were in their prime? Or better to see old artists performing in the flesh when they are past their prime? Much of the answer is down to your definition of what constitutes “live” music. (And I’m not actually suggesting that Warwick should start touring as a hologram – the high cost necessitates huge demand for tickets, which I’m not sure she’d have).

But a new dawn in entertainment is upon us in which technology can add perfection and polish to decades-old careers. There wasn’t much perfection here.

Then again, 2,300 hearts melted when Warwick replaced the word “me” with her own initial in the chorus of finale That’s What Friends Are For. “Keep smiling, keep shining / Knowing you can always count on D, for sure,” she sang. Despite the vocal issues, we’ll miss her.

Until July 1; officialdionnewarwick.com