November 12: A chair is not a house

And a house is not a hotel room. But a Burt Bacharach concert with Ron Isley and 40 players is indeed an extrodinairy experience for a wee boy in NYC. Good heaven's what a night. I took two hours off from the mixing studio to run around the corner to see this showcase that marked the release of this duo's new collaboration CD. I would run out and buy that record after tonight's performance, had it not been for the ladies who were handing out a package holding that very record at the exit, right by a very long, shiny black car, holding one Burt and one Ron, resting after one fantastic night on stage.

To see Burt Bacharach behind the piano, while also conducting a string ensemble who played sweeter than I ever imagined strings could sound. To hear these magic songs I picked up from my mother's small and varied, but-not-so-useless-after-all record collection, in slighly new and extremely tasteful arrangements, live a few metres in front of my own body and soul, sung by a masterful vocalist with impossible control and pitch, although he at times sounded a tea spoon too eager not to sing the actual melody, more keen on softly jumping up were the falsetto reigns.

This is, however, just a minor complaint that was only justified in a couple of numbers. Many of the harmonic liberties taken when performing the songs were very effective. Still, hearing - but barely - Burt sing the first verse of The Windows Of The World breaks my heart.

Burt, if you are reading this (and I asume you are); I wanna write a song for us to sing and also to give your piano and conducting hands some rest. I just want your voice, cause I think you're a darn fine singer.

When that is said, your hair looks really cool. You look really good and friendly on stage. And mr Isley, you should come to Norway and talk to people who call themselves singers and bravely but foolishly attempt the same vocal acrobatic sways as you so engagingly provided tonight. Most without such luck, or - let's be honest guys and dolls: taste or timing or ability or affection - as that of yourself. These folks are a growing species and they give singers such as yourself a bad name.

Help them give love a good name. Amen.

A hotel room is still a room, even when I'm not there. But now I am here, and for tonight this room is a home as good as any for a tired man with much music in his head.

Good night.
Sondre Lerche