Had a wonderful time at the legendary Blue Note jazz club on Saturday night. The placed was packed full and everyone could hardly wait for the band to come on the stage.

For the singer, it was a slow start. I kept thinking to myself (ok, may have commented on it out loud as well) how her voice was beautiful, the notes were all right, but there was no heart and soul in it. The piano melted my heart and the drummer made many of us tap our fingers and feet while shaking our heads rhythmically in an almost bird-like fashion. Cool.

The singer was Italian and I felt she wasn’t being sincere for the lack of a better description. I did not believe the stories she was telling and felt that these were not the words she would have used on her own. All correct, all beautiful, but empty. Until she sang in Italian. O dio mio, l’estate. She sang of summer love, its end, of snowflakes coming to soothe the pain, and I believed her. She touched my heart and gave me goose bumps. Yeah!

Even the best imitator can only hope to achieve the level of the artist they are trying to copy. But greatness comes from originality.

Just be yourself.