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Bubbly Hours with Bublé

March 2, 2011

Another summer day
Has come and gone away
In Paris and Rome
But I wanna go home
Hmmmmm…

The familiar rhythm is on the air. It is playing together all the homesick moments that I have associated this melody with, taking me back to places where I have listened to it for hundreds of time – while driving through Jalan Gombak on the way to the International Islamic College, while walking absentmindedly in the late evening at the enchanting Titiwangsa Lake, while opening my eyes slowly in the morning on my cold queen-sized bed. Normal-hearing people would prefer to use those dance-on-the-floor tunes to wake them up in the morning, but I chose this melancholic piece to start my day with. Well, you know, there are little things in life that you can’t easily get rid of, like the first song you listen to early in the morning on the radio or TV. It is usually stuck in your mind for the rest of your day, isn’t it? You keep humming the same tune over and over until you sound like a broken machine. You don’t realize it until people start asking whether you’re alright or not. Familiar situation, huh? You see, I knew this trick very well. So I made a conscious effort to get the right song to be my mind’s best friend during my waking hours. And I always chose Michael Bublé’s Home for my little brain. For me, it will always be one of my favorite hey-don’t-worry-you-are-not-alone songs.

The cheers bring me back to reality. There’s an electrifying aura in the Rod Laver Arena, Melbourne. Classic. Jazzy. Soul. Blues. Love. I think everyone here is in love with Michael Bublé, especially the menopause-looking women sitting in a row next to me. They are cheering so hard. Too damn hard, to be exact. I see the clear expression on their faces. It says, “You know what, Michael. We don’t really care if you’re engaged to a sexy bitchy lady from Argentina. You’re still my hero!” Hmm, I love this crowd. In fact, I love everything I see and hear tonight. It’s worth waiting for seven months since Jimmy booked the ticket last year. Michael Bublé is truly a super-duper star tonight. He takes the centre stage with that breezy confidence. I don’t think he has changed a lot since the last time I saw him on the glossy CD cover. He looks forever frozen in that soulful, suave, sleek, smooth, sophisticated image. But I suspect he’s too tired. His Crazy Love Tour must have taken its toll on him. It shows from his stiff and coarse voice. Not like the usual jazzy, swaying tone I used to listen. But who cares. People just keep cheering whatever coming out of his mouth. But wait a sec, can’t he just sing? I hate it when he cracks dirty jokes or narrates some over-the-top scripted stories. Of course, he communicates well with his adult audience, but I feel a little uncomfortable having to deal with his latest cocky image on the stage. It’s like our own songbird Siti Nurhaliza. I strongly feel that singers are simply lousy at talking. I suggest they just keep using their gifted articulatory system to sing. And sing only.

Oh, what a charming thing when Michael Bublé starts singing. The songs truly carry strong vibes that teleport me to different space and time. I’m Feeling Good makes me sway with those feel-good hours I went through all those years in Kuala Lumpur. Georgia On My Mind connects me back to those quiet chilly nights at the Bali Memorial Park when I’m feeling blues for companionship. Hold On gives me strength to carry on my duties on a foreign land doing my lunatic academic mission. Hollywood reminds me that I can find Hollywood in myself if I keep on loving what is true for me and that the whole world will come to me if I keep on dreaming. Me & Mrs Jones throws me to 1972 when Kenny Gamble, Leon Huff and Cary Gilbert created this universal story of infidelity. Everything makes me so ooh la la with merriment I feel like running to that blinking stage with a huge poster that says: “Hey I’m Hilmi Bublé’!”

No, I’m not here for Michael Bublé alone. I’m here to celebrate the wonderful monster called Music that holds a lot of colourful messages around the world. Music is a world full of mysteries, joy and heartache. And I think everyone tonight shares the same passion for life and romance. So thank you, Michael Bublé, for your authentic artistry and for creating this unforgettable world. May you live up to 200 years to keep soothing all the weary souls out there. Yes, you and me. We are not strangers.

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4 Comments leave one →
  1. March 2, 2011 6:19 pm

    Cekmi,
    That Buble song plus the Alleycats one….dengar kat tengah-tengah malam… tak nangis saja jelah… purrrr…..meow!

    Like

    • March 7, 2011 12:13 am

      Try to listen to them on a broad day light. You’ll smile.

      Like

  2. Siti permalink
    March 21, 2011 7:24 am

    OMG!!! LUCKY YOU!

    Like

    • March 21, 2011 9:08 pm

      I hope so!

      Like

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