Scratching an itch to add fresh music -- jazz -- to my collection, I was upstairs at HMV.
Silently, I cursed the pounding bass and screeching treble from downstairs, drowning out our first floor jazz. It's a long time since I felt welcome and comfortable in the rock section, I mused, perusing the sparse collection of jazz, mostly old, except for a couple of Melody Gardot albums already ensconced in my collection.
I have the kind of ears that listen. Downstairs had found something quiet to play, and HMV were treating us upper atmosphere souls to a woman's voice I didn't recognize, delvering a gutsy mix of jazz and rockabilly.
"Who's that?" I asked an assistant.
"Imelda May," he said, pointing at the huge 'Playing Now' sign that I had not noticed right behind him.
"She's not in jazz. Where is she?"
"Downstairs. In rock and pop."
I headed downstairs. Maybe I would after all feel welcome in rock 'n pop. I was surprised to recognize many of the artistes -- the Stones, Beatles, Robert Palmer, and even the Crimson King was still in his Hall. I found Imelda May, then remembered that Amy Winestock appeared to have some jazz roots; also, Lilly Allen and Duffy seem to me to be today's Dusty Springfields, so I added them too to my armful of albums.
Then I dimly remembered my daughter mentioning a modern, jazz-influenced cover of Dusty's "Spooky". The Pepperlini Sisters? Pralini Sisters? Perlini Sisters? Something like that. I scanned all the P's in rock 'n pop, drew a blank, and, now feeling at home downstairs, went to a rock 'n pop assistant to ask.
"The Puppini Sisters," he said. "Upstairs. In Easy Listening."