And we got romance -- a whole mess o'sweeping, jazz/pop ballads featuring Connick's Sinatra-esque vocals riding atop a small band and an orchestra of local players.

But that wasn't all this show was: Connick might as well have called it An Evening of Harry Doing Whatever the Heck He Feels Like, because that's how it came off.  In addition to hits like "We Are In Love" and a mess of creamy, mellow fare from his new To See You CD, ol' Harry offered a mixed bag that included showing off his love for jazz piano, a brief clinic on N'awlins piano styles, handing the show over to sidemen such as trumpet player Leroy Jones, some long, rambling anecdotes, and so on.  And so on. Now, there are worse ways to spend an evening than listening to Connick sing lush love ballads and Jones play the trumpet.  But this show felt, well, weird -- and self-indulgent.

Connick knows that he'll probably always have at least a decent-sized audience, although his disappointing funk forays of the mid-90s meant he's had to downsize from Starplex to medium-sized halls like the Music Hall.   And it seems that more than anything, he wants to show how versatile he is -- even at the expense of presenting a show that never really grabs the listener by the lapels.

This show didn't grab.  Kicking off with three ballads in a row -- all new, none of them big hits -- it sort of eased into existence and took its sweet time getting around to the favorites.  Wlhich is OK, but Connick (as was true during his funk phase) seems just a bit too self-satisfied for his own good -- in no small part because he simply isn't a great jazz pianist, merely a decent one, and he clutters a few songs with unexceptional, almost-jagged solos that just don't go anywhere.

Connick remains a fine all-around musician and charismatic live performer -- and, of course, a decent if derivative pop-ballad vocalist.  But for all that, I can't help but wish he had left some of this material behind and given us a more streamlined, populist show.