Aah, I have truly been blessed by the music gods, with heavenly sounds being sung to me live every weekend in August. It’s like one-night stands for four consecutive weeks with my favorite voices—first was Little Dragon’s Yukimi, then I had Lady you-know-who, and then Miss Sandy Lam, and last Friday, Hanjin at the surreal Dada Lounge.
I took Amy Ma and her friend Man Ting. Young, effervescent Ting, who does musical theater, checked Hanjin’s jazz out on YouTube and loved it. Amy, on the other hand, suffers from jazz phobia because she had once been stuck in a New York cab for two hours listening to soft jazz being played VERY loudly. So there she was, for her musical re-education, tempered with amaretto sour and Dewar’s on the rocks.
Anyhoo, award-winning record producer, songwriter and evil genius Hanjin strutted his stuff. Yeah, he’s worked with the likes of Eason Chan, Joey Yung, as well as Rain and Aguilera in the world of pop; but for this occasion, he performed material from his debut jazz album, “Raw Jazz.” Very raw, but also exceedingly soothing (I either put on “Raw Jazz” or my guru’s mantras when the betches in editorial get difficult).
There was Jason Cheng on piano, Paul Candelaria on bass and Skip Moy on guitar, whom you can all see and hear if you go down for an absinthe at Gecko on a Wednesday. I usually see Jason on the Gecko piano, which faces a wall, so I’ve never seen his P-face (which I imagine would be quite similar to his O-face) with a spotlight straight on it. Riveting. The players switched it up a bit on “A Foggy Day.” Jazz, according to the bassist, when I went up to chat later, “means fucking with Hanjin.”
Chet Lam came up as a guest, and as soon as the chords for “Fever” played, I went, “Oh sheet...” in my mind. Nothing wrong with Chet’s singing, but the song can get asphyxiating, not to mention that I recently heard the sultry Brigitte Mitchell’s HAWT rendition. Chet’s version was feverish and worthy of note though, as it’s always remarkable to see a guy do a total diva song. Plus I liked his hat.
Although they were eminently better dressed, people in Dada Lounge displayed even less manners than the punks by the bar in Grappa’s at the Little Dragon show. Some birthday group on the left began to talk in a volume more appropriate for a Mong Kok mahjong parlor. Did they want dice shakers to be brought out? Maybe a Twister mat for extra howling laughter? BPSTFU!