The idea of a string overture, an arrangement of John Bucchino’s ‘Grateful’, is inspired, allowing us to settle and wait with growing anticipation for the first vocal track. And then there’s the voice. Suddenly that autumn voice, a rich and sonorous messenger for a woman whose heart is too big for just one world, that voice is there with you, in your room, in your soul. You can see those sparkling eyes, you can almost hear that enormous laugh and you can feel that joyous presence which is Amanda McBroom on stage.

What is incredible about this artist is her unerring ability to make every song sound as if it’s hers alone. Not so difficult with such songs as ‘Errol Flynn’ and ‘When Love Grows Up ‘ which she wrote herself, but surely Jerome Kern wrote ‘The Way You Look Tonight’? I had to double-check after hearing her joyful and expansive rendition.

McBroom’s commitment to each song is unequivocal. She inhabits the lyric and shares it with us like old friends. Her own songs are about the most recognisable of emotions and dilemmas we all face at some time and to these she adds similar material from a wide-range of songwriters new and old.

There are so many highlights this album must be a natural blond, but particularly thrilling is her version of ‘Baltimore Oriole’. Those who have seen her strut this number and slide atop a piano on which Joel Silberman teases and taunts with extravagant keyboard artistry will already know just what a showstopper this number is. On record we lose none of the alternately wooping and soaring vocals that Amanda McBroom conjures up.

Also worth picking out is the performance of Lori Lieberman’s ‘Girl Writing a Letter’, a song in which the ardent admirer releases the subject from the

medium which otherwise holds her unattainable forever. This album allows us to do almost the same, for the vibrancy and honesty with which Amanda McBroom performs have indeed transcended the medium and brought her into our homes. Yes, in the absence of the real thing, this CD will do very nicely.