Saturday, August 16, 2003

In late June, Joe raved about seeing Michael Bublé in concert. I filed it away under "sounds interesting, hope he's not another Josh Makes-Me-Vomit Groban." Oh no, he's not.

Poking around online today, I visited his site, where you can stream his entire self-titled debut album (his sophomore effort, Totally Bublé, hits stores September 9th). It's simultaneously a throwback to the days of Dean and Frank and a signpost towards the future of supper-club jazz, encompassing selections from Sinatra, yes, but also George Michael (his knockout take on "Kissing a Fool," also featured in that delectable Ewan and Renée flick Down with Love), the Bee Gees, and Queen (turning "Crazy Little Thing Called Love" into swinging jazz the way Dwight Yoakam turned it into the rockabilly it originally craved to be - but really a testament to the glory and power of Queen, that said song is so malleable). He croons as sweet on "Summer Wind" as he belts out on "Fever," showing his range without showboating. And, thank goodness, he's not another Harry Connick, Jr. Whereas Connick has always sounded slightly smarmy to me, like he's mean when the lights go out, Bublé sounds like that perfect, unattainable boyfriend every gayboy and girl wants. He'll bring you roses and pour the champagne - and isn't that really what we want from our crooners? It's all about romance in this genre, and Bublé understands that, and nails it. He's proof that not everything uberproducer David Foster brings us is bad (cf. Celine), and definitely (and defiantly) a talent on the rise to watch.

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