Monday, March 20, 2006

Dianne Reeves ...

Well, I haven't posted a damn thing about singing in a really, really long time.

I haven't been taking classes lately. I don't know that there's really any point. I kept telling myself that I was taking the classes to force myself to sing in front of other people, but I think what I was really doing was pissing off Gwen.

The first few times, I think she was willing to put up with my weirdness about opening my mouth. Singing in front of people is a fear a lot of people share. But after many sessions? Get over it, Kujawski.

That's not to say I didn't make progress. I did. I sang in front of a packed room at Davenport's. I did an open-mic night at Davenport's. I sang with my classmates at Davenport's while Gwen was at the piano in the bar one night, running through all our songs and fully expecting us to sing along.

But I don't need Gwen's class to give me courage. No, what I need is a glass or two of Scotch.

Not that it's ever a good idea to rely on liquor to get up the gumption to perform, but it's not like I perform often.

Oh, I kid! Relax.

No, what I need is material. The right material. Material that speaks to me. Material that suits my voice. And friends? Dianne Reeves is my new hero.

She sings the soundtrack for "Good Night, and Good Luck." Wow. This is the stuff I was born to sing. This music even sounds like it's in black and white. Smoke curling from cigarette tips, sultry hidden eyes, brushes on a snare drum, upright bass, a tuxedo at the piano with a pulled-loose tie.

And ice cubes clinking in a glass of Scotch, not because I need it, but because it's just called for in a smoky club at a sleepy hour.

Oh, hell yeah.


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