Harry Connick, Jr. is beginning to sound a bit like fellow New Orleans jazz superstar Wynton Marsalis. No, not in his approach to the music-the pianist's and trumpeter's styles widely differ. Nor does Connick share Marsalis' propensity for spouting encyclopedic knowledge and the philosophy of jazz (which, by the way, Connick imitated so hilariously during last summer's tribute concert to Ellis Marsalis). It is that Connick and Marsalis are such workhorses, involving themselves in a multitude of diverse projects seemingly simultaneously.

At once Connick, a two-time Grammy winning pianist, vocalist, writer and arranger who's chalked up four multi-platinum, three platinum and three gold albums, recently released two new albums. 30 is a program of tunes with Connick primarily alone at the piano. Songs I Heard bubbles with children's favorites from the past arranged by Connick for his big band plus stringed orchestra. Last year Connick made his debut as a Broadway composer, lyricist and arranger for Susan Stroman's currently running Broadway play, Thou Shalt Not" Connick, who made his acting debut in 1990 with Memphis Belle, was also featured in such notable films as Little Man Tate and Independence Day. He shares the big screen with Lynn Redgrave for the upcoming film The Simian Line and appears on a cable comedy Life Without Dick. Touring regularly with his big band, Connick is, of course, also a husband and father of two young girls ages four and five. "I keep the same hat on; everything under the hat changes all the time," says Connick of his multi-faced endeavors. "I just like to go out and have fun-music and movies and entertainment. I just like to enjoy my life and I make sure that there's time for everything." Like Marsalis, Connick is constantly writing and arranging for his many projects whether on the road or at home. As trumpeter Leroy Jones, a member of Connick's big band since 1990, tells it, every day his boss fine-tunes the material that the ensemble performs. "You know, we're using Finale, the computer software, so it enables him to quickly have a chart for us each day," says Jones. "So we go into that sound check at 4 p.m. or 5 p.m. in the evening before a show to rehearse and we usually play that new arrangement that night. We are always doing something different-a new song or a new arrangement. It keeps everybody on their toes; it keeps your eyes together; it keeps everyone from getting bored."

Who Put The Bomp
Connick credits both his father, District Attorney Harry Connick, Sr., and pianist/educator Ellis Marsalis, whom he met as a child and later studied with at the New Orleans Center for the Creative Arts (NOCCA), for in instilling the strong work ethic that drives his productivity. "Ellis-in very subtle ways-is a very stern taskmaster," says Connick of his former instructor. "The work ethic and the fear that he puts into you-and it's literally fear-to be the very best that you can be sticks with you. That's why I write as much as I write and work as hard as I work. I couldn't go to sleep at night saying, you know what, I didn't do as well as I could do today. There are just too many people out there who deserve it [success] as much or more than I do." Ellis Marsalis, however, remembers that the teenage Connick didn't always display such strong motivation to get down to work. For instance, when the young Connick entered one of the many piano competitions that were prevalent at the time he did so with a lackluster attitude. Nonetheless, he'd often blow everybody away. Marsalis recollects too that Connick had to forego his studies at NOCCA because of problems with his grades at Jesuit High School. "I think he was exceptionally talented and he got a lot of support from his parents," recalls Marsalis, who describes Connick as a precocious kid. "That can make a difference when you're trying to pursue as many different areas as he was in pursuit of. His folks were very supportive of him studying with James Booker. They were very supportive of him going and sitting in with musicians on Bourbon Street at different clubs. They were supportive of him doing formal studies with classical teachers. You know, the whole thing. That [becoming motivated] is where the growth cycle takes you. When you have the opportunities, interest and the ability it will take you there." "He wasn't too much of a student," agrees Connick, Sr., "I think he was just waiting to get out. He wasn't your typical student, he went to school and did his homework, but from a very young age he loved performing more than anything. And this was sort of the dominant, motivating factor of his life. He worked when he had recitals. They were good for him in the sense that he would study and he would really buckle down. This was before he got channeled. I wouldn't say that he practiced a lot or worked a lot, but when he did it was very intense." The discipline and motivation that Connick realized from these two role models as well as his mother, eventually became a part of the musician's own outlook and persona and directed his career. "Ellis prepared me to play with the pros," says Connick, whose professional output is now so prolific. "I'm not attracted to laziness. I'm not attracted to people who are passionless or rhythm-less. I'm attracted to people with fire. What keeps me going is the constant fire inside to be better, to be stronger, to be greater-that's never going to die."

It Takes Two, Baby
One would assume that it's simply not a good business move for an artist to release two albums at the same time. Common sense would tell you that it sets up the possibility for the discs to compete with each other and thus limit sales. Yet Connick, like trumpeter Marsalis in the past, did just that with 30 and Songs I Heard hitting the racks simultaneously last fall. Looking at it from a jazz artist's rather than a pop musician's point of view, Connick doesn't see a conflict and cares little about record sales. "Nobody's going to buy 30 because it isn't well publicized and it's a small record," says Connick of the mostly solo piano and vocal album that took just a day to record. "Most people are going to buy [the big band project] Songs I Heard because it's more advertised and more visible and more promoted. My career isn't based on record sales anyway because record sales are based on radio and I don't get played on the radio. I just make the records and I'm proud of them and move on to the next project." Attune to his audience, Connick is undoubtedly correct in his projections about the commercial appeal of Songs I Heard on a national level. On the other hand, there are those-including many New Orleanians who watched Connick grow up as a pianist-that delight in hearing him do tunes like "New Orleans" and "Junco Partner" in an uncluttered musical setting as heard on 30. While Connick's hometown influences run through all of his music, it is on 30 that they are most pronounced. Naturally, that includes shades of Connick's mentor, James Booker, who beckons on tunes like "Speak Softly Love," "Junco Partner" and others. "It's a rolling kind of piano style and that sound is always going to be there because Booker had a huge impact on my life," says Connick, who was taken under the wing of the piano wizard as a child. "That's how music develops. Just like Professor Longhair and Chopin were in Booker's style, as time goes-it's like a family tree-the music just spreads and spreads. I'll take that influence and turn it into my own thing." Despite Booker's musical genius, the scenario of a district attorney encouraging his young son to associate with a gay man with well-known drinking and drug problems and who had spent time in jail is a curiosity. "I was very familiar with all of that and Harry was well aware of it," says Connick, Sr., a music lover who used to go hear Booker play and introduced him to his son. "I also knew that James was trying to do the right thing and trying to shepherd Harry through things that may have been pitfalls for him." Connick, Sr., often invited Booker to his home, particularly for Sunday breakfast. "He usually didn't eat too much," recalls Connick, Sr., "because he'd rather have a drink. But they spent hours at the piano and Booker taught Harry a lot. They became very good friends and Harry would seek Booker out wherever he would be playing. Booker was very receptive and invited Harry to the stage." With tunes like "I'm Walkin'" and "New Orleans" sung and played by Connick sans the big band, it's not surprising that some have suggested that 30 is the pianist's return to his hometown roots. The oft-repeated description, makes Connick bristle a bit. He feels that many people don't appreciate that the big band and the big band arrangements are as much a part of the evolution and future of New Orleans' music as his piano playing. "You can't see the development, because it's all going on right now," says Connick. "I guess people want me to play like Booker on every record I do. But that's why I left [New Orleans] to advance and grow. And that's why Booker didn't leave because he found what he had and was content doing that. And that's awesome. He was the best and far greater than I could ever be."

Big Band Bounce
Songs I Heard is Connick at his most intricate and elaborate, arranging and leading his big band plus a complete stringed orchestra on tunes from children-oriented shows like "The Wizard of Oz," "Annie" and "Mary Poppins." Boasting songs such as "Merry Old Land of Oz" and "Supercalifragilisticexpialidoious," which is given a secondline flavor, the album offers sophisticated jazz arrangements and stylings to the innocent material. It's a duplicity that Connick seems to enjoy and has returned to throughout his career. "All of my heroes were a combination of complexity and simplicity," says Connick. "I think that's what art is about. I wanted to do a kids record for ten years, I just never got around to it. I like those songs; they have great melodies and lyrics and they lend themselves to arranging. I thought it would be great to expose some kids to great music like that." Because this music-even the larking "Ding-Dong! The Witch Is Dead"-is arranged and presented in a mature fashion, Connick once described it as "definitely for adults." However, he's recanted that opinion somewhat now viewing the album as one that parents can share with their children. Perhaps, he's reassessed his estimation, in part, because he's watched his own two girls enjoy the music. "I don't take it as a compliment that they like it," says Connick, "I think kids will listen to anything you play unless it is something really obscure, rhythm-less, non-melodic music. What's important to me is that they have it [music] to be exposed to. That's what memories are made of-whatever your parents give you to see and hear and feel and touch." Growing up, Connick enjoyed a great deal of exposure to music. His father and mother, the late Anita Connick, owned a record shop called Studio A that they opened in 1954. They would bring home lots of records and, though Connick, Sr., can't recall specifically, probably some of the show tunes performed on Songs I Heard. Connick's early introduction to jazz standards through his parents as well as being from New Orleans, a city that embraces the past, undoubtedly influenced the entrance of classics jazz numbers into his repertoire. It has led some to describe him as old-fashioned in his tastes. While the term isn't necessarily critical, Connick is quick to defend himself against being thrust into that pigeonholed. "I'm not old-fashioned; I'm a student of the arts," Connick retorts. "I have a particular love for great things-some are 300 years old ago, some were written last month. But it has nothing to do with a standard or an ideal. It's true, saying I love things-some things-from the past, but there was a bunch of weak stuff written back then too." His father, who, of course, isn't the person on the receiving end of these sometimes-critical shots, tends to disagree. "He likes the music he grew up with," says Connick, Sr. "I think he has great respect for people like [composers] Johnny Mercer and Cole Porter. And if that is part of being old-fashioned, well then, I think he is." Connick's big band executes his complex arrangements on Songs I Heard with stop-on-a-dime unison and harmonic perfection. The hefty brass section pumps up tunes like "The Lonely Goatherd" and the secondlinin' "A Spoonful of Sugar." From the ensemble's inception, the leader packed the band with New Orleans musicians who presently number six-trumpeters Leroy Jones and Marc Braud, trombonists Lucien Barbarin, Mark Mullins, Craig Klein and Brian O'Neill. Jones and Barbarin, who no longer plays in the trombone section but instead is a featured in a combo, have been with Connick since he put together the big band in 1990. "They're such powerhouse musicians and entertainers, they've change my writing," says Connick of his long-time cohorts. "I've written songs for and around their playing and I've arranged for them individually." Connick takes a lesson from master bandleader and composer Duke Ellington by approaching his writing and arranging with his bandmembers in mind. "He uses the musicians' talents and knows everybody's capabilities and uses that to his advantage in the same way Duke did in his band," says Jones, who enjoys the challenge of working with Connick. "He writes the music to bring out the best qualities in each musician. If different cats were to come on this band, it would be difficult for them to interpret the music even though it is a matter of reading." New Orleans and its music is the centerpiece of Connick's live shows so the bandleader finds having Jones and Barbarin as well as the other New Orleanians in the band especially advantageous. "We don't have to explain to each other what a po-boy or a bowl of gumbo tastes like," says Connick. "We just know that. So everything else is light-years ahead relationship-wise because we've been through it all and have had the same experiences. So it allows you to open up creatively a lot sooner. I just want everybody to know that I talk about New Orleans every show that I do," adds Connick adamantly. "And when I talk about New Orleans, I'm talking about the people. I wouldn't be who I am, whoever that is, without the people of New Orleans and without that experience." Jones elaborates saying, "When Harry plays solo piano he always pays tribute to Ellis, to Booker, to Dr. John. He always reminds us where he's from-he never leaves that out. We do 'Mardi Gras in New Orleans' every night; we do 'I'm Walkin'' and come out soloing and shakin' a tail feather-secondlinin'."

More Marsalises
Both Wynton and Branford Marsalis, long-time friends who Connick shared a stage with along with the rest of the Marsalis musical clan at last summer's tribute to Ellis, make appearances on 30 and Songs I Heard, respectively. Wynton slides on to the piano as well as blowing trumpet on the lovely "I'll Only Miss Her (When I Think of Her)" and Branford provides the opening vocals and soprano saxophone on "Ding-Dong! The Witch Is Dead." "I see them from time to time," says Connick, adding that they were both eager to join him for the recordings. "As we get older we seem to be doing more things together because, well, we're getting older. I think we're all gaining value by being together. Everybody knows who we are, so we don't have to worry about careers much." To find Wynton playing piano on "I'll Only Miss Her" comes as a surprise to many people but for Connick, an admirer of the trumpeter's broad musical talents, it was a natural. "He understands intimately how the piano works and how harmony works so I wanted him more philosophically than from a dexterity point of view. He didn't know the song, and I didn't really either, so we were just kind of reading it. So we just played it and that was it." Too busy to come into the studio, Branford's part on "Ding-Dong!" was overdubbed on the recording. We agree with Connick that Branford's goof in the spoken word opening of the song really does add to its charm. "He started it too high and he coughed and then started it again," remembers Connick with a chuckle. "We just left it on because it was so funny." Being on stage with all of the Marsalis musicians for the Ellis tribute remains a memorable experience for Connick. "Sitting next to Ellis playing 'Twelve's It,' which was something of a standard at NOCCA at the time, and having Wynton and Branford and Delfeayo overlooking me in the sort of crook of the piano as I was playing-I'll never forget that image as long as live."

Growing Up
Perhaps because of his success in so many fields, his superstardom, his boyish good looks and maybe even the ongoing debates about his style-too Frank Sinatra-ish, too old-fashioned-Connick's artistic development has remained under-appreciated or at least not fully recognized. A listen back to earlier recordings documents the evolution of his abilities as a pianist and vocalist and particularly as an arranger and bandleader. "I've been around him and watched how he's grown and progressed over 11 years," says Jones. "I've watched how his arrangements, his way of communicating to us about what he wants, his way of getting out his ideas through the band and it's amazing how much progress he's made in such a short time. I remember when we were doing the first tour before the Blue Light, Red Light CD; we were doing a lot of arrangements from the record [1990's] We Are in Love. But most of those arrangements had been done by Marc Shaiman. Maybe a year or so after that, that Harry decided, shucks, I can do this. And the next thing you know, he was whipping out his own arrangements. He arranged the songs on Blue Light, Red Light and those were good. But if you listen to the arrangements now, they've become more complex and Harry has his own signature there. Harry is a musical genius." "I don't think anyone has any idea of the depth of Harry's musical creativeness," agrees his father. "For instance, when he did Thou Shalt Not, they wanted him to write some songs. And for at the first meeting Harry brought in like eight songs. And they asked what is this for? And he answered that this is the start of the music. They were amazed at what he'd done." "I know it got horrible reviews," admits Connick about the musical, adding that he enjoyed the experience of being involved with a Broadway show. "I just love writing songs and working with creative people everyday. It's a great thrill to put yourself to the test and have somebody say hey, we need a song for this scene and just write it. I like working under pressure." At 34, Connick is certainly in an enviably and unique position for a jazz musician. No longer concerned with the bottom line, he's free to pursue his many interests and passions. On the recording front, Connick has always been his own man, even in the mega-world of Columbia Records. When the company questioned some of his decisions on his first recording for the label, the then-18-year-old threatened to quit. "I said look," recalls Connick, "if this is the way it's going to be, I want out because this is not the way I like to work. And they left me alone ever since. You have to establish that kind of leverage immediately or they'll be giving you advise on how fast a song should be before you know it." Connick was one of the first artists out of the gate in the escalating vocal jazz scene and singer Jane Monheit credits him with helping to open up the field. In a twist of the usual order of things, Connick even influenced his father in becoming a professional singer. It's a career Connick, Sr. never would have pursued if his son hadn't continually invited him to share the stage with him first merely at sound checks and later for performances. "For years, nobody knew about it-I wasn't interested in anyone knowing," says Connick, Sr., who usually appeared at out-of-town shows. Sitting in with his son eventually led the senior Connick to singing standards with the Jimmy Maxwell Band and the Nelson Riddle Orchestra and finally leading his own band.

Way Down Yonder
Connick hopes to return to New Orleans during Carnival for his Orpheus parade. With two new albums out, it might be expected that Connick would be bringing his big band back to town for a full-fledged show. But despite this being his as well as many of the big band members' hometown, New Orleans is treated as any other city on the touring schedule. We're assured that the absence of a scheduled stop here has nothing to do with Connick's perception of New Orleans' audiences as being tough. "They are the worst audiences for me," exclaims Connick. "I mean they're the best people in the world, but the worst audiences because they've heard it all before. Worst meaning that you have to prove something to them. It's like, okay what have you got new? If you play 'Mardi Gras in New Orleans' in Pittsburgh, the people go nuts over that. If you play it in New Orleans, it's like okay, great. Besides, when I play in New Orleans, half of the audience is my family and they're really not impressed." Granted, New Orleans audiences are notably a spoiled lot when it comes to music (and food, of course). Though if Connick's proud father is any example of the family's reaction to their kin's talents, then Connick is certainly pulling our leg in his assessment of their recognition of his remarkable achievements.