Burt Bacharach, Royal Festival Hall, review Talking about the many classic film scores and theme tunes he has written, Burt Bacharach singles out the unlikely trio of Austin Powers 1, 2 and 3. "I can't tell you what that's done for my career," he croaks. All the 7 year olds suddenly knew my music. At 85, Bacharach may look like Methuselah but the king of easy listening has tunes for every generation. Bacharach calls this his "You Gotta Be Kidding Tour" because, he tells us, that is the only possible response to doing 13 concerts "at this time of my life." Tanned, grey haired and shrunken, he moves like a marionette with a string cut. Sartorial elegance is giving way to comfort, an open neck shirt and blazer hanging over jeans and trainers. He plays rolling around on a seat at his Steinway piano as if he can't quite get comfortable, standing to conduct beginnings and endings. He sneaks a lozenge from his pocket and chews steadily before required to perform a vocal. Everything about him creaks with advanced years, except his music, gorgeous melodies unwinding with perfect ease around the smart lyrics provided by a host of legendary co-writers, dipping and rising through emotional highs and lows, lushly arranged for his ten-piece band. After a jazzy ride through Little Red Book, Bacharach recalls recording it with Manfred Mann in 1965. "Really good band," he says, generously, before adding. Didn't have a great grasp on those chords. B flat over C. Don't think they'd seen that before. You can tell this concert means a lot to him. Bacharach smiles with pleasure at his singers and musicians, and mouths along with the words behind the piano. He talks a lot and while not a fantastic raconteur he doesn't just throw out pre-rehearsed lines of cocktail lounge patter. He reminisces about times in London, responds to audience calls, and giggles at his own joke, just like he is chatting with friends. We are used to hearing these fantastic songs from our greatest vocalists, in renditions full of emotion and personality, but his trio of backing singers have a tendency to overdo it, never using one note where half a dozen will fit. When they harmonise, it all goes a bit New Seekers, melody without soul. Still, you can't go far wrong with a Bacharach tune. They are wonder to behold and come one after another, in a two hour set that includes medleys of dozens of unforgettable classics, a brace of fine new ballads and scintillating renditions of some of the most complex and intriguing moments from his extraordinary catalogue. By the time Bacharach gives us his own speak-signing renditions of Alfie and A House Is Not A Home, performed with mournful late life wisdom, the effect is dramatic and powerful. After multiple standing ovations, and a singalong encore of Raindrops Keep Falling On My Head, no one is any doubt that we have been in the presence of genius.