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Review: Jersey Boys - - I don’t quite know how it happened, but in the early 1960s there was some sort of mass psychosis in which the shrill, squealing squeak of Frankie Valli’s falsetto was considered a pleasurable thing. What sounds to you or I or any rational individual like a peregrine falcon creaking out its death-kaw became, when produced and arranged by Brill Building geniuses like Bob Gaudio and Bob Crewe, a string of number one hits. Hey, weirder things have happened.

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