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The recent re-issue of some of Leonard
Cohen's music brought this sophisticated cocktail-jazz chanteuse to my
attention. This protégé of Cohen, a pianist and singer from Honolulu,
assembled scraps of Cohen poems, lyrics and journal entries into a
smoldering torch record. It could almost be a Cohen record, with its
smattering of waltzes and perfume wafting through the air. Romance,
flirtation, sex and disappointment linger like cigarette smoke. The heart is
at the center of everything here, and the temptation to cloak the goings-on
with lush orchestration is avoided. Instead, the uncluttered arrangements
that range from baritone saxophone to a countryish pedal steel enhance the
words. Anjani reveals her innermost thoughts ˜ and Cohen's ˜ as a sinful
dance, but one that you'd rather not end. Serge Gainsbourg is dead, and no
one makes records like this anymore.
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