why michael buble equals awesomeness (seriously!)

12 Sep

googly eyes

excuse me—and please indulge me—while i give in to my very rare fan girl moments. while a part of me is just a little embarrassed to admit that i do have these moments, another part is saying, ‘ahh, why bother repressing it?’

when it comes to music, i can pretty much say that i have eclectic tastes. i’ll listen to anything as long as it has a decent beat. (and that’s why i am physically unable to appreciate heavy metal, though that’s another blog altogether.) but one of the musical styles close to my heart is the classics. and by that i mean forties’, fifties’, and sixties’ classics sung by greats like frank sinatra, tony bennett, and dean martin. oh what voices. voices that transported you to another place altogether when you heard them. the voice of a man’s man that makes your skin tingle, one you could listen to over and over again. what i wouldn’t give to have been born decades ago and have the chance to listen to them sing live. that must have been something else.

it all started yesterday when i took a cab to work. the taxi driver had the radio on when i heard a really, really good duet cover of the song how deep is your love by the bee gees. now, i love, love, love the bee gees. i think they’re awesome. but this version was really good too. i couldn’t recognize the woman’s voice, but there was no mistaking the guy.

i came across michael bublé’s music many years ago, back when he was just getting started, about ten or eleven years ago. his music stood out in the sea of boy-slash-girl-band music that was popular at that time.

i don’t know what it is about his voice, but as a friend of mine describes it, the way he sings comes across as natural as breathing to him, so . . . effortless. pair that with a rich but playful-sounding baritone voice—well, he had me with his rendition of the way you look tonight. *deep sigh*

i just have to say it again: what a voice. if i close my eyes right now and listen to him sing, this is where i imagine myself to be: sitting in a dark, seedy-looking, underground bar with people huddled close to each other, their cigarette smoke almost suffocating in the cramped space. the spotlight’s on a guy with a fedora hat on, crooning through an old-fashioned standing mic while another guy plays the bass, a sax, or a violin in the background. that is where his music takes me.

the  sad thing is, i have yet to see this guy in a live concert. and if the concerts i’ve seen online are anything to go by, he’s an awesome performer. to my utter disappointment, he doesn’t have any scheduled in my country this year. or the next. (boo!)

oh well, i guess i’ll just have to make do with those online videos for now:p

PS. the draft of this post was originally longer . . . and a very long-winded homage/rhapsody that kinda freaked me out when i reread it. (it was bordering on the “i’m-the-biggest-fan-he-is-so-awesome-marry-me” territory, haha.). what you’re reading is a much, much tamer version, if you can believe it.

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