Harry Connick Jr Auckland

It must be 15 years since I last saw Harry Connick Jr live. It's certainly so many years that I've since managed to grow a whole daughter who thinks he's just the dude from Will and Grace and that nice guy in PS I Love You ...

Well, of course he IS all those things, and very nicely he does in them too. But can I just pause here to complain about the unfair distribution of talent? How did one guy - one NICE guy - end up with demon pianist fingers, good looks, raconteur abilities that would put most stand-ups to shame, AND be able to lead a sob-worthy band with a voice that regularly makes your eyebrows hit your hairline and lump surge up in your throat? Oh, and a sweet ass. (Anyone who was there last night will appreciate the reference). Sweet, sweet as, bro. So how? How?

I mean, gimme your front row tickets for Christchurch! Oh, sorry, that just slipped out. Try again ...

I mean, gimme a break! Was it a Faustian deal? Is he going have to hand over his children on their sixteenth birthdays (including the lovely unaffected Kate who was dragged out onto the stage last night)? I'm sure someone more intelligent than I am could point out the genetic soup that created him is the cause, or direct me to some nature v nurture argument, or explain it to me in some way that makes sense.

Anyway, I would just like to point out that it's not fair. I'm very accepting of the fact that being fabulous at something doesn't mean you can't be fabulous at other things too. An obvious exception to this in most cases might be celebrity authors (don't even get me started on Madonna and bloody Jordan), but you know ... Jamie Lee Curtis can turn out a very beautiful book or two.

So I'm not saying that it's not fair he's so multi-talented and sweet as. Not really. What is not fair is that he was far too brilliant last night to be on for only two hours. Me and My Girl were quite near the front, and it was so cosy and effortless I felt as if we'd somehow gate-crashed his Christmas party. He sang and laughed and entertained us, and I found it so hard not to leap to my feet and dance that I must have looked as if I was strapped into an electric chair. And then all too soon, it was over.

I've a suspicion it may have been all too soon even for Harry and the Band. To say the lighting was a little curious at the Civic last night would be an understatement. We all had to find our seats in the dark, guided only by the distant twinkle of the stars on the ceiling, the beam from our mobiles and people kindly shouting out what seat number they were in as we stumbled over their feet and plastic wine glasses. Inexplicably, the house lights then came up for two minutes just before the show started, when most people were seated (in the wrong seat/row/each other's laps). And then at the end-which-might-not-have-been-the-end, HJC and the band were waving at the cheering, clapping, crying audience who were fully anticipating another encore, and suddenly - whump! Curtain down, lights up, everybody out. I could still see the tips of Harry's shoes beneath the curtains, facing forwards, and they looked pretty startled too.

Still, that was definitely that. We schlepped out expecting to buy his new CD in the foyer but there was no merchandise on sale (maybe someone had nicked it during the black-out?), and overall it was a bit puzzling and rather an anti-climax.

You have been warned, Wellington and Christchurch! You lucky people still have him to come. Make the most of him, and do please consider hijacking the lighting director (after you've placed a traffic cone in your seats). And if you have spare tickets, let me know.