The Goosebump Factor

I react to good music from the bottom of my heart, literally. Warmth is sensed at my center, then almost immediately the signal spreads outward, in every which direction, making the hairs on my arms stand on their ends. It's the most primal sign that I enjoy what I'm listening to. It's almost like that electrifying sensation you get in the first few months of a new relationship.

Eason Chan's Get a Life Concert had its grand finale Sunday night at the Coliseum. He remains the only Hong Kong singer whose live performance is worth paying money to watch. The cocky husband and father who earlier claimed there'd be no encore at his concerts this year gave his audience plenty on the show's last night. I loved that it was a no-bull-crap kind of show. It was 200 minutes full of his grade-A singing, with very little chitchat only during the last 45 minutes when he just had to express how hyped he was that his audience was so hyped. (It was later reported that two fans felt ill during the show, from overexcitement.) The only special guest featured was not there to force-feed the audience with off-key singing or lame jokes, but was there to dance with him. And what little dancing he did was only the best moves: tap dancing; Broadway; hip hop; and he completely nailed that moonwalk, which was very Usher. All in all, the show was everything I expected from Eason Chan, and more.

Unlike at the Coliseum, concerts at the Hong Kong Cultural Centre start and end on time. Terence Blanchard's sextet played two hours of soulful jazz Saturday night. And it was the best sex ever. Music started playing soon as the fat lady fell (those are some very steep steps in the Concert Hall balcony). It’s amazing how different elements of something can be so random at the same time that they’re in total harmony. It sounded as if the more each band member improvised, the more in sync the tune was. The soft jazz together with the dimmed light had an almost sedative effect. At one point I found myself fighting hard against an acoustic coma. That was until the more bouncy numbers came along. The band was playful and it was very obvious that each member was madly in love with what they were doing. Each tap of the finger and every sway of the shoulders was passionate; everything was music. Kendrick Scott on the drums, in particular, had a heck of a time staying in his chair as all four limbs of his flapped vigorously all the way.

There’s no substitute for good music. This was one hell of a good weekend.