Norah Jones – Come Away With Me

Back when it was all right to like effeminate boybands and silly-looking girlbands (which included yours truly, I remember clearly dancing to Backstreet Boys’ Shape of My Heart, something I have no qualms sharing with you guys and gals) and when jazz was perceived as music for people with large spectacles and a penchant for cigars made in Cuba by elderly men with cantankerous behaviour, came this little album from a little lady with a voice that was as smoky as it is hazy in Kuala Lumpur.

It was in college when my good friend Irwin and Kinsat bought a pirated CD from good ole Petaling Street. On the badly printed cover was this pretty, Indian-looking girl with freckles and a white woman’s name. When Irwin offered me a grubby-looking headphone to me I was assaulted by extreme tenderness. Her voice was husky and the song that I was listening to was slowly draining the lifeblood of me. I abhorred her and the world of jazz was forevermore off boundaries for me.

Funny how a few years and a good knockin’ from life can transform a man’s/guy’s/bugger’s life.

Yes, you purists will definitely vilify me for saying this, but Norah Jones is jazz albeit not of the variety that takes pride in its ability to play 100 notes a second. Her brand of jazz is tinged with hints of country and pop, meshed together to create music perfect for those days when I don’t feel like having my brain mashed by a cacophony of beats and riffs. When I first heard her voice I thought there must be something wrong with the headphones, she sounds just like an old singer I used to listen to when I was just a child. I shrugged it off, calling it boring as heck and went back to listening to Korn. (Which I have no qualms in admitting that I actually bopped my head to some their songs.)

The songs range from slow and breathy to slightly up-tempo. Opener Don’t Know Why pretty much sets the tone for the album. Probably the one most inane thing about the album is the fact that the title track, Come Away With Me, is apparently a bad song. This shocking revelation is due to the title itself, say it aloud, many times if necessary and think of the skin industry (ugh, nekkid people) and you’ll know what I mean. Still don’t get it? I sure as hell still don’t. It’s a beautiful song yet people with funny minds brand it immoral, decadent and detrimental to the soft and delicate ears of the Malaysian public. And let it be known that we have no problems with songs and the accompanying video clips from Pussycat Dolls who performed here and guess what, they weren’t exactly dressed in Eskimo clothing either and Nelly Furtado who incidentally is absolute horse droppings and a sell-out and can’t rap to save her life is signing about being promiscuous.

Maybe the moral guardians have a tough time in trying to figure out which word carries a negative or sexual connotation to it. I think a dictionary is a good investment for these prehistoric, cigar-chomping dolts.

Anyhow, the album closes with not one, not two, but three very good songs: Nightingale, The Long Day is Over and The Nearness of You. Every time it rains or when I travel I will play these songs for they really put me in a nice place. If there’s one Jones I’d like to keep up with then this lady is the one.

Initial Rating: 8/10

Current Rating: 8/10