“Ledeezengennelmen, plizwelcome… mizandramaaaaan!”

<Cue faint ripple of applause>

And yes, he said that every time I got up on stage to start a new set.

My first night went… OK. Not great, not bad. But OK. It was a start. A perfectly fine start. And I think that’s probably the best I could have hoped for.

I was surprised by how nervous I was; but I was. Being on a proper stage, doing a show which somehow, well, matters, with a band who are also finding their feet and who aren’t just a safe pair of hands like the jazzers I know and love… well, it was all bound to make it ever so slightly nerve-wracking. The agent, his wife and friends, and the hotel manager, were all in the audience, too - which in a way was lovely and supportive (and gave me people to aim my between-song banter to), but which made me quake in my black peep-toe heels just that little bit more. The main thing is that they were happy with what we did, though. So that’s A Good Thing.

Band-wise, there were a few fluffs - as there would be on a first night - and a few surprises.

One: that the trio like to play a short “band theme tune” at the end of each set - sort of like the house band on TV show - and I had absolutely no idea it was coming. There I was at the end of my first set, saying thank you and we’ll see you after this short break, hearing the sound/lighting guy J doing his “Ledeezengennelmen!” bit… and then the band strike up again with a jaunty little number. So I stand there looking a bit taken aback, wondering what on earth they were doing, and whether I need to get off stage. Then I realise what they are doing… and as the night goes on, also realise that they do, indeed, play this outro at the end of every set. It’s cheesy beyond belief, and while it could, perhaps should, put me in my mind of one of those TV show house bands - think The Tonight Show or David Letterman - it does unfortunately make me think of Raw Sex from French And Saunders, and I am more than slightly embarrassed. Looks like I’ll just have to get used to it, though. Who knows, I may even write words for it.

The second surprise is that D, the pianist, sings. I had no idea. The trio play for 15 minutes at the start of each set, before I come on stage and join them for the final 30 - and lo and behold, during one of these instrumental slots, D starts crooning ‘I Can’t Help Falling In Love With You’. Just like the singer/pianist M I’d seen playing in the jazz bar the night before, D is a very unassuming, quiet, polite Malaysian man - who when he opens his mouth produces the most slickly American-accented, polished, powerful singing voice you’ve ever heard. In the case of both D and M, it’s completely at odds with their speaking voices, and their personalities, and it’s really quite remarkable.

The bar was about half-full (as opposed to half-empty) and the audience was very sweet. It was a mixture, as I guess it will be every night, of people sitting and listening, and others chatting and drinking and catching up with friends. Malaysian audiences, I also realised, have a penchant for applauding the beginning of a song when they recognise and like it - rather like audiences do for big stars when they wheel out old favourites. So they clapped when I started to sing ‘What A Difference A Day Made’ and ‘Moon River’, for example. And yet they’re not clapping me: they’re clapping the song. Which is really rather lovely… although I have to resist the urge to nod and smile in recognition of their applause as I continue to sing. Because that would just send the cheese-o-meter soaring.

Indeed, after the first night’s experience, I now consider ‘combatting the cheese factor’ to be one of my prime aims with this gig. I know it’s what T wants - and he said last night that I was already starting to accomplish it with the band. I want to help turn them from a cheesy lounge jazz trio using string sounds and electric bass into a tasteful, interesting jazz trio using acoustic piano sounds… and electric bass. And while I can’t control the trio’s theme tune, or the fact that it’s an electric bass playing it, I can do what I can with the arrangements, and the choice of tunes I pick for us (I realised last night, for example, that in the wrong hands ‘It’s Only A Paper Moon’ can sound pretty awful). So, onwards and upwards, and back to focusing on Dianne Reeves and Good Night, And Good Luck. Because if anything is likely to kill my spirit during these two months, it’s going to be the realisation that yes, ledeezengennelmen, we are Sausalito.

PS. A group of us went out for supper after the gig - so it was another 4am bedtime. Zzzzz… Still, I got to see Penang’s capital, Georgetown, for the first time; and to sample proper local food at a street cafe. And great stuff it was, too. At the end of the night, R paid the bill - and when I asked him how much I owed, he replied: “Oh, nothing. In Malaysia when we go out for dinner, one person picks up the tab. It was my pleasure.” Which was incredibly sweet, I thought. Although as I pointed out, we do have a similar custom in Britain - it’s called “buying a round”.