When I was in high school, I thought Harry Connick, Jr. was pretty much the epitome of sophisticated cool. He wore sport coats; he had a thick New Orleans accent; he didn't seem to have a care in the world. And he played jazz.
Harry Connick, Jr's boogie-woogie jazz was exceptionally highbrow for my small town, but it was also fun. It wasn't stuffy and uptight like the classical piano I was studying in the back of the local music store. It was relaxed and smooth. You could nod your head and dance to it.
When a concert in Dallas aired on my local PBS station, I recorded it. I watched it over and over again, taking notes on Connick's clothes, his piano technique, his banter, and his soft shoe routine. I somehow got the soundtrack off the VHS tape and onto a cassette (likely by holding a tape recorder next to the TV speaker and demanding silence from the rest of my family). That tape joined Dinosaur Jr., The Smiths, and Dead Kennedys in my junker car. I would play it anytime I was with a girl or anyone else I wanted to impress.
By the time I graduated and went to college, I had pretty much forgotten about Harry Connick Jr. A few years ago, much to my wife's amusement, I bought a used copy of Lofty's Roach Souffle and popped it in the CD player. It brought back some fond memories, but it wasn't what I was looking for. What I really wanted to find was that Dallas concert.
Thanks to the Internet, I was able to learn that the performance was released on VHS as Harry Connick Jr. Swinging Out Live. I was also able to learn that it was out of print and unavailable even on eBay. I didn't figure there would be a big secondary market for old Harry Connick Jr VHS tapes, but I was somewhat surprised to learn that it had never been reissued on DVD. I was even more surprised to learn that no one had ripped the VHS and uploaded it to YouTube.
Well, I looked again this morning and found that someone finally did transfer their VHS to digital and upload it, so now I could revisit that old 1990 concert and see how it stood the test of time. Maybe it's just nostalgia speaking, but 23 years later, I'm still tapping my foot.