Thank goodness for Wed. night's show to restore my faith in AI! I could hardly get through Tuesday's show--not because of the endless succession of strange, whacky, and downright bad singers, (we all knew that was coming) but because of that dysfunctional yet usually lovable family of judges. (O.K., lovable may be a stretch.) What happened to Paula and the little glimmers of hope she usually doles out to those that Simon has been particularly cruel? I don't think she hit him once for his insensitive remarks. In fact she barely even uttered a word, just flailed about sometimes shaking her head, or putting her hands over her ears or giving the occasional thumbs up. (I have my suspicions here for the cause of her loopy behavior, but I'll keep those to myself.) And with Randy being even meaner than Simon (What up dog? Where was the love?) there was no one to balance people getting humiliated for two hours. Jewel tried ... kinda ... I guess. What was Jewel's purpose? Anyway, long blog longer, Wed. night the characters in the cast of AI were back to their usual roles and I almost wept. It's much better television to see two sweet, delusional misfits in the case of the guy who looked like a Bush Baby and the guy Simon accused of wearing Randy's pants go through their audition process with their dignity still in tact because at least one of the judges showed a little kindness.

I had "a musical moment" this weekend that I just had to share with those of you out there who are as passionate about music as I am. First, let me set the scene ... My girlfriend and I went down to Miami Beach to Arturo Sandoval's Jazz Club. O.K., that right there was something not to be missed. This room has been beautifully renovated into an intimate supper club, and the history makes it that much more appealing. Apparently, back in the hey day of Miami Beach, every great from Streisand to Sinatra to the Beatles performed there. Soooo, we had ourselves a little cocktail, a few munchies, and settled in for The Four Freshmen (whom I adore) kick musical ass. As if that wasn't enough, Arturo himself jumped on stage to join them for a song! He explained to the the audience (after playing notes on the trumpet higher than I knew were possible) that as a kid in Cuba, one of the first jazz records he ever listened to was The Four Freshmen and Five Trombones album. He said it was very inspirational to him and fired his passion for jazz, which is why he was so happy to have the current Freshmen incarnation at his club carrying on the tradition. It was phenomenal. So if you're ever in the Miami area, support Arturo's club and his desire to bring great live music back to the area. AND if you ever have the opportunity to see The Four Freshmen, don't pass it up. You'll hear harmonies and musicianship that'll give you musical moments galore.

This week has been an emotional rollercoaster in my music career. The high was when I sang for guitar legend Bucky Pizzarelli's 80th birthday celebration. What a beautiful, gracious, talented human being! He is still all about the music and left his dinner table several times to stand by the stage--I really think he would've rather been sitting in. The low, and I mean possibly the lowest in fifteen years of performing, was when I sang at Page Six gossip columnist Richard Johnson's wedding. It took place on a two-story party yacht that set sail at sunset from Palm Beach Yacht Club. Although this might sound very glamorous, I can tell you unequivocally that it was not. First of all, the logistics of performing on the upper and lower decks was hell. A boat is a boat is a boat no matter how large, and here's the visual--going up and down near perpindicular stairs in a gown and heels. Next was the weather which included heat, humidity, and choppy seas. Can you say Dramamine? So before we even took off, I was naseous. And then there were the people smoking like chimneys. I didn't think I'd ever get through the evening without barfing over the side. Try looking glamorous under these conditions. Oh, and did I mention the scandal involving the New York Post's Page Six that broke in every major newspaper in the country on the day of the nuptuals? I'm talking serious allegations of payola and an FBI investigation, hence the beefed up security to keep out reporters and the Secret Service. This probably accounted for the groom's pleasant but generally melancholy demeaner. And I'll just say this about brides in general--you are the reason I could never perform at another wedding and it would be too soon. (Thanks for letting me get that off my chest.) Most weeks are more even keel, but I wouldn't trade this one for anything--more material for my next book!

Please be patient as I am a blog virgin, but I'm really excited about this whole concept. How cool to be able to lament on life as a Diva (professional vocalist), and get feedback from others (hopefully)! So here's the thing ... I got to hang with Tony award winner Faith Prince last week, and she had some great advice. We were discussing the importance of making a song your own and really communicating with the audience. This subject has been coming up alot on American Idol if you've been watching because very few this season have any individuality. Many contestants are singing well enough but have got nothing behind the eyes. Faith's way of achieving a connection with her audience night after night is to write herself a back story for each song that she can relate to and visualize while on stage. (Judy Garland said "Good singing is good acting.") I've been giving this a go at my gig this week, and although it's a lounge in Palm Beach and not Carnegie Hall, I swear I'm getting a better audience response. It's also inspired me and invigorated some of the songs from my repertoire that I've been doing for years. So try it, Divas.