Michael Henningsen • Weekly Alibi

Not since the heyday of Austin’s 8 1/2 Souvenirs has torch jazz sounded as authentic as it does delivered courtesy of Bernadette Seacrest’s formidable set of pipes atop the torrid haze served up by her Yes Men. The whole affair resembles a hand-cranked big screen romance circa 1930s, in which our heroine—as was often the case during the era—beguiles her male counterpart with sleight of sexual innuendo, the blink of a carefully attended eye and an ever-so-slightly liquor-lubricated melody. Standards and originals alike are given the same naughty treatment here, all to tummy tingling effect. Careful, boys.