Now this is her at 6 years old, singing Celine Dion’s “To Love You More.”

Confirming that she could really sing, my “Idol” brother thought of putting in some movements. He calls it animation. At first, Zee was a bit shy to move her hands. But after a little convincing and inputs, she pulled out quite an impressive amateur show, on top of a makeshift platform.

Not bad at all.

Bonus videos: My little brother singing “This is the Moment”.

Star in a Million:

I would like to borrow the words of Edith Lovejoy Pierce, “We will open the book. Its pages are blank. We are going to put words on them ourselves. The book is called “Opportunity” and its first chapter is New Year’s Day.”

Watch my video singing Auld Lang Syne:

I wish everyone a happy New Year.

Delaney Brothers

I am very critical when it comes to music. Blame it to my addiction to almost anything about the art. I am probably one of the few non-Americans who monitor and follow each American Idol episode, check the billboard charts, blog about American songs and new MTVs, and scrutinize every musical guest performance on late night TV shows.

Tonight, I hopped into Cottonwood coffee shop in Brookings, SD for my dose of mocha. I had no intention of staying late. However, my attention was caught by the brothers duo – Evan Delaney and Tristan Delaney – who were performing inside the shop for the annual open-mic event. Both brothers could play the guitar and sing beautifully at the same time. I mean, they do not possess ordinary-sounding voices, but something more of recording-quality that may give pro singers a run for their money. Listen to the blending of their voices and it will make you thirst for some more.

Evan Delaney and Tristan Delaney sound good individually as well. Although Evan Delaney seems to be the vocalist type, Tristan could also make the crowd excited when he hits the light second-voice. The brothers sing their own compositions, which, in my opinion could hit the charts when someone could only manage the duo properly and release their album. For now, according to their Facebook page, they are “self-managed.”

I was able to talk to Tristan Delaney after the show and told them they make good music. I asked for their website and, unfortunately, they do not own one. He referred me to their Facebook page (I even let him spell his family name so I could find it right away). When I visited the page, I found out that we have common friends. What a small world!

The Delaney brothers should keep on singing and share their gift of music to everyone. I believe the duo has something unique that only the blending of their voices could give. Their Facebook description says “to bring skill, beauty, feeling, respect, reality and authenticity back to ‘mainstream’ music” — well, they really do.

Visit their Facebook page, watch their videos and be a fan!

Watching and listening to Brule and the AIRO band on the night of Friday the 13th, established a thought that home is where the real music is. Paul LaRoche (stage name: Brule) through his distinct Native American music, inspired the audience with his family life – how tensions became triumphs, how identity and reconciliation fulfilled a dream and how his love for his family and culture sent a message of hope to all those who continually love his music.

It was a blissful feeling. I felt a stirring touch of tranquility in every strum of the guitar from his son, Shane, hum of the flute from her daughter, Nicole and beat of the drum from the talented Moses. I admit, never in my entire life had I experienced this genre of music, not ever. The long existence of Western music in my country has much to say on my tendencies of becoming a true R&B aficionado rather than a classical fellow.

I grew up in a family whose life revolves around music, learned “Delilah” at an early age and sang in public when I was about 9 years old. Mom was the professional singer. In one article I described her beautiful high-pitched voice as one that could cause a light bulb to explode and a house lizard to slip from its stronghold.

Ok, it’s hereditary. My older brother started singing on platforms at age six. All through his college days, he became the guitarist and vocalist of a local band. Younger sister faced a roaring crowd in her first grade, sang the piece so well and got a good pat from her classroom adviser and a good grade on top of that.

The youngest, Jeffrey, is the Rhythm and Blues prince. Owning the lion’s share of mom’s vocal dexterity, no wonder he indisputably succeeded her to the throne. At age 10, he conquered the airwaves by becoming an undefeated champion in most contests he was in. His extraordinary talent brought him instant TV stardom, even up to now.

Voice training was hard when I was young. I’m still curious up to now if the strategy of submerging myself neck-deep in the sea on early mornings and singing at the top of my lungs, really worked good for my voice. I can vividly recall I had to bear the dawn’s coldness and give up the early morning dreams in bed.

I am writing this piece because I, to a certain extent, after listening to Brule, miss singing at home. Unlike in my quiescent town, where only birds, and cicadas, and lizards are my competitors, here I can only vocalize as quietly as possible, or moan melodically, or sporadically chirp like a dying bird. Here, no do-re-mis blaring out from every living room window. In this cold State, needless to say, the singing blood running through my veins is momentarily frozen.

Home is where my love for music started. Just as Brule had turned tensions into triumphs, so must I adjust every life’s valley into peaks. Brule obviously has more of what little I have about survival. However, I have a family that is so supportive all along.

Music loves me. I may have cut a dream of becoming a singing superstar, in my heart, nevertheless, I have my own tribal rhythm to chant and a song to constantly sing. Brule said to hold on to the dream. Thanks to Brule, so I go on. In fondness of music I shall go on…living…loving it.

Enjoy the rest of the Hobo Day week everyone!