Nat King Cole – The World Of Nat King Cole

The cover of this single-disc compilation shows three Nat King Coles loitering side by side in a parking garage in various dapper poses: one looking just past his shoulder, a yellow overcoat on his arm; the center with hat in hand a la Sinatra; the third walking — model perfect, sans hat or coat — out of frame. All three are dressed identically in sharp black suit and white shirt with a narrow black dagger of a tie and razor-thin white cuffs showing below the coat sleeves. The effect is that of a triptych or impossibly suave triplets, their differences apparent only in the details of accessory and pose.

For better and worse, this is the same feeling one gets from The World Of Nat King Cole. Released (along with a DVD documentary of the same name) on the 40th anniversary of his death, it’s hardly the first career-spanning Cole disc Capitol has compiled. The label seems to remaster, re-sequence and re-release his “hits” every five years or so.

Most of the usual suspects from Cole’s twenty-plus years at Capitol are among these 28 tracks: ’40s jazz trio recordings (“Route 66”, “Straighten Up And Fly Right”), ’50s swooning orchestral crooners (“Mona Lisa”, “Smile”), and the playful, underrated ’60s pop confections (“L-O-V-E”, “Ramblin’ Rose”). Also included are those recordings that defy categorization, such as the ethereal, exotic “Nature Boy” and Cole’s signature “Unforgettable”.

Most can be found on earlier compilations (a rousing 1960 live Vegas performance of “Thou Swell” appears on The Unforgettable; “Send For Me” with the Billy May orchestra shoes up on Greatest Hits). The World Of does manage to add, however, a few distinctive touches to its ensemble, particularly a thrilling, hypnotic reading of “Stardust” and the swinging, piano-jazz-meets-orchestra arrangement of “Let There Be Love”.

Strangely, with so many tracks available, World still leaves out some of Cole’s obvious career landmarks: “Lush Life”, the unjustly dismissed “Lazy, Hazy, Crazy Days Of Summer”, and his classic recording of “The Christmas Song”. Stranger still is Capitol’s insistence on including 1991’s unfortunately forgettable posthumous digital duet with daughter Natalie (yes, it won a Grammy; let her include it on HER hits disc).

Regardless of packaging details, The World Of Nat King Cole does as good a job as any single-disc collection of representing the breadth of his work, and especially of presenting Cole as a musical triple-threat: accomplished jazz pianist, great American vocalist, and consummate collaborator, whether with a trio, with jazz artists such as Stan Kenton and George Shearing, or with orchestral arrangers May and Nelson Riddle. Nat King Cole could wear all three hats and make it look — and sound — suave and effortless.