Had the distinct pleasure of introducing ex-Thelonious Monk drummer Frank Sinatra, Jr.'s only problem is his name, frankly. Taking the Eastman Theatre stage last night in front of what was one of the best big bands I have ever heard (no shit, it was astounding), Sinatra sounded alarmingly like his father. But then again, when Harry Connick, Jr. first made the scene, folks said he sang like Ol' Blue Eyes, too. But in Harry's case, he wasn't saddled with legendary shoes that are impossible to fill.

If Frank Jr. had any other name besides Frank Sinatra, Jr., folks might have given him more of a chance. The modest crowd that did last night was treated to a wonderful set full of Nelson Riddle-esque lushness and style. Sinatra conducted and deadpanned while singing with masterful phrasing that he no doubt inherited. His rendition of "One For My Baby" was gorgeous, and if you ask me, better than his old man's. I wanted to like his show, was afraid I wouldn't, and was surprised when I did... a whole lot.