You can take the girl out of jazz, but you can't take the jazz out of the girl. After flirting with everything from Christmas songs to Tom Waits covers to crossover pop for much of her career, Holly Cole narrows her focus and takes a more traditional approach on her fittingly self-titled eighth album. Backed by a magnificent horn-based band laced with first-call session cats from the Big Apple -- including SNL sax man Lenny Pickett -- the Nova Scotia chanteuse applies her velvety pipes to a craftily chosen, tastefully arranged slate of moody Tin Pan Alley classics.
The theme this time out is typical Holly: Denial and self-deception. But whether she's delivering a bluesy, ragtime-flecked rendition of the Mel Torme classic The House is Haunted (By the Echo of Your Last Goodbye), leading hard-swinging versions of Mercer and Mancini's Charade and Cole Porter's It's Alright With Me, purring a noirish You're My Thrill or offering up a smooth take on Jobim's dark Waters of March, Cole keeps it seductively, compellingly real and honest. And speaking of seductive, bonus points for the underlit, Dietrich-homage cover pic of Cole's face and gams.
With all that going for her -- and with Diana Krall temporarily trading music for motherhood -- Cole seems poised for the big break that has eluded her for too long.
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