Jazz Hands

Raise your hand if you've heard of Harry Connick Jr.


Nobody knows me?
Sigh. I should write a song.
Now don't roll your eyes like that if you do know the uber-cool jazz crooner. You're in a sad majority! You'd be surprised at how many haven't even heard of his name. When I heard he was scheduled to perform in Kuala Lumpur, I almost stormed the philharmonic to get the tickets. Not sure how I missed his last showing - possibly due to some drastic life-altering event since there could have been no other way I could have missed it.

Eager to share the news, I immediately texted my friends only to get stark blank faces in reply. Seriously. Might as well be talking about Ludovico Einaudi for all the breathless excitement it elicited.

Then again I bet they wouldn't know Sinatra if he walked by singing a tune.


Don't get me wrong. I'm not totally biased. Although I don't mind most other genres, somehow or rather rap makes my teeth hurt. A sign of old age no doubt. And despite the endless piano drills as a kid ( don't even ask me for a dreaded recital! ), I'm far from appreciative and soporific instrumentals still list high on things to put me fast to sleep. Always reminds me of practising scales!

It had to be jazz after all. Have always been a fan of jazz standards. No doubt in some past life, I hung around bars and clubs after work listening to the creamy-smooth crooners of the 50s. Definitely wasn't shoved in the glaring spotlight that's for sure.