He’s always had a song in his heart

Danny Aiello’s finally getting back to the first love of his life.

No, it’s not something that Sandy, his wife of 49 years, has to worry about. It’s singing. And the veteran character actor’s performance at Anaheim’s House of Blues on Thursday was only his third appearance in the full-fledged role of stand-up solo vocalist. No script, no character, just Aiello and an eight-piece band, romping through the ‘40s and ‘50s tunes that served as the soundtrack of his youth.

The show actually began with a six-minute video montage of quick takes from Aiello’s prolific film career -- “Moonstruck” to “Do the Right Thing” -- before he launched into an opening succession of the tunes “All of Me,” “I’m Gonna Sit Right Down and Write Myself a Letter” and “I Can Dream, Can’t I?” His voice warm and amiable, his phrasing easygoing and conversational, his singing revealed influences from his numerous idols -- Bobby Darin in particular, Tony Bennett, Louis Prima and, surprisingly, Vaughn Monroe.

But as with his acting, Aiello’s singing, at its core, was far more than an accumulation of influences. It was a pure manifestation, instead, of his own rich persona, of the abundant life experience he brings to his art.

A latecomer to acting

Two days before the performance, breakfasting at the Beverly Hills Hotel, Aiello looks a decade younger than his 71 years. Taller than he appears on screen, he has the sort of pliable face that moves easily across emotions, perfect for the wide range of roles that have filled his acting career.

And the emotions dominating his face and his body language -- he moves, touches, gestures with the expressiveness of his Italian heritage -- are directly related to his passion over the circumstances that brought him back to music.

“I did it now,” he said, “simply because life was passing by, and singing is a dream I’ve had for a long period of time. The funny thing is, I never had a dream to be an actor, because I didn’t think that could ever be a part of my life. I thought,” he added, with a sardonic smile, a trace of his Bronx upbringing (though he was born in Manhattan) still coloring his phrases, “that actors all came from the other coast.”

A classic late bloomer, Aiello didn’t have his first union acting job until he was 40. He worked as, among other things, a baggage handler, a union representative and a bouncer before appearing on film in “Bang the Drum Slowly” in 1973 and making his Broadway debut three years later in “Lamppost Reunion.”

Ironically, singing -- his first love -- took much longer to arrive, in part because of his own apprehensions.

Aiello leaned forward, intent upon making a point that still seems to bewilder him.

“When I was 12,” he recalled, “my mother took me to the Arthur Godfrey talent show. We sat in this office waiting to be called, and I was terrified. By the time they got around to my name, I was gone.”

Other opportunities, including an appearance in Madonna’s “Papa Don’t Preach” video, couldn’t quite transform Aiello’s inner resistance. The recent recording of his first album, “I Just Wanted to Hear the Words,” helped crack the shell, especially when the CD turned up in the top five of the jazz charts this spring.

But it wasn’t until the release party for the album in April at Manhattan’s Rainbow Room that Aiello finally got a grip on his singing using a pair of personal techniques.

“The first thing,” he recalled, “is that I prayed to my dear departed mom and said, ‘Please don’t let me make a fool of myself.’ And the second was that I remembered the attitude that Bobby Darin had, which was something like ‘I dare you not to like me.’ Ordinarily I might go out, apologize, say ‘This isn’t what I really do, I’m really an actor, so please bear with me.’

“But now I go out and say to myself, ‘I’m just going to sing for these folks. Hopefully they’ll enjoy it, and if they don’t, all I can say is, I’ve done my best.’ ”

And Aiello’s “best” at the House of Blues turned out to be very good indeed. Interestingly, although he sang several songs -- “You’ll Never Know” and “The Curtain Falls” among them -- that clearly tapped into his acting skills (sometimes a bit too much so), other numbers afforded more intriguing examples of his incipient musical skills.

He sang “One for My Baby,” for example, in a fashion convincing enough to exorcise comparisons to Frank Sinatra’s classic version. And tunes such as “Pennies From Heaven” displayed a brisk, intuitive sense of rhythmic swing that bodes well for his future development as an interpretive vocalist.

Aiello finished the set enthusiastically, sweating with relief in his dressing room after the show. Greeting a line of friends, fans and acquaintances, he had a warm welcome for each, shaking hands, hugging, grabbing shoulders, obviously touched by the responses he was receiving.

When one woman thanked him for bringing back the songs of her youth, he nodded appreciatively and then suggested, diplomatically, that she was far too young to have experienced the songs when they were originally written.

Asked if this was the start of something big, if singing would now become an important element in his creative life, he thought for a brief moment before enthusiastically nodding in the affirmative.

“You know, I came here,” he said, “deciding that I would just try to have fun, to interpret the music as best I can. But there was still some anxiety. I kept thinking about all the psychological reasons why I might have problems -- Santa Ana winds, my throat -- thinking that I might wind up sounding like Joe Cocker. Although that wouldn’t necessarily be so bad.”

Then, shaking his head, recalling the journey that brought him to the stage as a singer, Aiello added, “So here it is. This is the love that I’ve always had in my heart and never pursued, really. Now, finally, I’m pursuing it. And I’ll continue to pursue it to the best of my ability.”