Women don't love Harry Connick Jr just because he's a dreamboat. We're not that shallow. We love Harry Connick Jr. for being a sophisticated man's man; we're sure as hell not going to bump into him buying pork rinds and toilet paper at Wal-Mart. And the man is a dreamboat. But those silky smooth pipes of his ain't half-bad, either. The wildly capable Connick -- pianist, composer, arranger, actor, Victoria's Secret-model arm candy -- made his self-titled debut in 1987 fronting a jazz trio. His latest release, February's Only You, offers up old standards such as "Save the Last Dance for Me," "You Don't Know Me" and "I Only Have Eyes for You." They shine under Connick's imaginative treatments, but we think it should have been titled Music To Get It On To or Shall We All Get Naked? There's no accounting for taste, though.
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