Before going further, here’s a song list with the original artists for each. I found it interesting to have when listening, and you might for this review’s references:
"It's My Life" (Bon Jovi), "True" (Spandau Ballet), "Eye of the Tiger" (Survivor), "Everybody Hurts" (R.E.M.), "Wonderwall" (Oasis), "Black Hole Sun" (Soundgarden), "It's A Sin" (Pet Shop Boys), "Jump" (Van Halen), "Smells Like Teen Spirit" (Nirvana), "Hello" (Lionel Ritchie), "Eyes Without A Face" (Billy Idol), "Lovecats" (The Cure), "The Way You Make Me Feel" (Michael Jackson), "Tears In Heaven" (Eric Clapton).

Sure, Nirvana’s “Smells Like Teen Spirit” is a generational anthem and known to everyone on Earth and Anka’s interpretation proves he rightly heard the inherent swing in the melody, but didn’t he have any pause over the prospect of crooning, each chorus, “A mulatto, an albino/A mosquito, my libido?” It sounded okay screamed by Kurt Cobain ‘cause he was stoned and confused all the time, but Paul, what will your grandchildren think? And what about “With a thrill in my head/And a pill on my tongue” from “True”? Bad grandfather! Same song, he takes the defining lines “Listening to Marvin all night long/This is the sound of my soul,” and substitutes “Ella” for “Marvin.” I know, he’s doing it his way, but what about respecting the songwriter? And Marvin Gaye? (okay...yes, I've gotten petty here).

Most of the songs survive the journey to Vegas through swinging big band caravans pretty well, some beautifully: “Black Hole Sun” is just killer, its lanquid, gorgeous opening minute and a half bouncing into a guitar-strummed, horn-driven piece with a dynamite finish. Oasis’ “Wonderwall” is nearly as good, given a hip, punchy early ‘60s finger-snapping propulsion that fits the rhythm of the words perfectly. The late night Scotch and cigarettes tinkling piano feel of “True” amazingly captures the exact feel Spandau Ballet gave the original.

A huge surprise is the transformation of one of the most annoying songs in history, “Eye of the Tiger,” into something almost irresistible, starting with a too-cool Pink Pantherish baritone sax intro leading into a Benny Goodman-style context, with superb arrangement and horn solos and sections, and a bombastic finale sold so well by Anka that even his little tiger growl “rrrrrr” at the end seems okay, just barely this side of Wayne Newton.

A lot of people are loving “Jump.” I say it’s a lousy song for either Paul or David Lee. “It’s a Sin” has some merit, but it’s a weird juxtaposition of words and melody, and I can’t get by the opening/refrain that sounds too much like the theme from “M*A*S*H*.” “Lovecats” (tigers, again – middle age, Vegas, what?) belongs on a “Love Boat” episode.

But this album could have turned out painful, humiliating, and the fact that much of it works is a tribute to Anka and his arrangers. It’s so, so hard to arrange a big band (60-some musicians) to do anything other than straight-ahead jazz in a way that doesn’t make you cringe, and I didn’t feel a single cringe from start to finish. No, wait, that’s really remarkable. I’m talking about not a single horn fade, string flourish, harp ascension done with anything less than intelligence, punch, articulation and impeccable musical expertise. One of my big complaints about last year’s great (in places) Ray Charles “Duets” album was the string arrangements, and those on even some of The Genius’ own best-known classics set off my cringe meter. “Rock Swings” is one of the best arranged and produced albums in existence, with probably the only spot-on drop dead perfect use of a big band in a pop context that I’ve ever heard.

Which makes it a really interesting album to listen to the first few times, but sad to report, it does not hold up. Some of the songs will lift my spirit and be welcomed any time they come on the radio, ‘til doomsday, but this is not an album I’ll play, except for curious friends, after this review is finished. I’m not exactly sure why, because certain elements are perfect. I guess it’s just that despite Herculean effort, Anka was not able to make most of these really work for him, despite so making them his own that in most cases you have trouble in the middle of a song remembering who did it originally. “Jump” doesn’t, “Lovecats” is too treacly, and there are too many instances of lyrics penned by young punks that in the voice of Paul Anka just aren’t right. It’s a sin.

Sound
I had to leave it all in the body of the review above, it’s such a crucial and large part of the Big Picture on this one. For those of you who jump straight to this part of the music reviews, sorry -- go to the eighth paragraph, starting “Most of the songs survive...”

And because there was no other good place for it, for those who don’t really know who Paul Anka is, except some crooner who’s been around for a long time, here’s who we’re talking about:
Over 900 songs published, performed well over 150 million times, by everyone from Elvis to the Gypsy Kings to Robbie Williams to Nina Simone to the Sex Pistols, including career-makers “It Doesn’t Matter Anymore” for Buddy Holly, “She’s a Lady” for Tom Jones, “Puppy Love” for Donny Osmond and, oh yeah, “My Way” for Frank; more than 125 albums and sales of 60 million albums and singles (20 million at age 16, with “Diana”), ranking 21st on Billboard’s list of most successful artists in history (and the only one ever to hit Top 50 in five straight decades), including three Number Ones, 22 Top 20s (five before his 18th birthday) and 33 Top 40s, all in the U.S. alone (one of his Italian-language albums sold 15 million copies there, plus three million for the single). Oh yeah, and he wrote the theme to the Tonight Show, which was played more than 1.4 million times during Johnny’s reign, and got paid every time they played even a couple seconds of it (but had to split it with Carson, who insisted on co-writing credit).