SUPER BUBBLE ^^ BUBLE'
The 28-year-old Canadian Michael Buble is the doyen of the "new'' jazz crooners. With his super-smooth evocation of the golden age of American song, boyish good looks and cheerful readiness to spend nearly all of the past two years in planes, hotels, concert halls and TV green rooms, Buble has shifted more than five million albums and scored high chart placings in territories as diverse as the Philippines and Monaco.
Which is where he is today, temporarily holed up en route to singing three songs opening the San Remo festival, along the coast in Italy. Despite having to give an interview and dine with Italian record company execs, tonight counts as a night off in the current push to promote his second album, It's Time. Buble, however, is in no mood for the larks and over-indulgence that apparently attended the success of his first, Come Fly With Me.
As he sips tea in the hotel lobby, he is in confessional mood. ``I don't like alcohol much,'' he says firmly, in tones that would make many of his heroes, notably the late Dean Martin, shudder. ``I like to smoke what you call a spliff. If it was up to me, I'd walk through life in a haze. But I had to stop all of that because it kills your voice. Three hundred shows in a year, man, and sometimes I'd show up and be half as good as I should have been. I felt bad about that.''
He felt bad too about all the young women he temporarily befriended. ``I was never sleazy. I was never mean to a girl. I was always very upfront.'' His voice tails off. ``But I'm a regular guy. I am a lad, and I did enjoy the temptations.''
Buble is such an appealingly open character you wonder whether he might supply more details. Instead, he re-counts a sobering conversation with his girlfriend of seven years, now his fiancee, Debbie.
``She didn't get mad. She said, `I understand what you're going through. And you must understand how embarrassing it is for me.' Which made me feel like crap, you know, like `Is it worth it?'''
He proposed to Debbie over the phone before Christmas and earnestly hopes that he has put his womanizing behind him. ``It had better be behind me, man, or I won't be engaged for very long.''
Other aspects of becoming famous have been less troublesome. Buble loved being able to phone fellow ``new'' jazzer Jamie Cullum - ``a great guy'' whom he had never met - and get together with him two hours later in a restaurant. They now sit in on each other's shows.
Which is where he is today, temporarily holed up en route to singing three songs opening the San Remo festival, along the coast in Italy. Despite having to give an interview and dine with Italian record company execs, tonight counts as a night off in the current push to promote his second album, It's Time. Buble, however, is in no mood for the larks and over-indulgence that apparently attended the success of his first, Come Fly With Me.
As he sips tea in the hotel lobby, he is in confessional mood. ``I don't like alcohol much,'' he says firmly, in tones that would make many of his heroes, notably the late Dean Martin, shudder. ``I like to smoke what you call a spliff. If it was up to me, I'd walk through life in a haze. But I had to stop all of that because it kills your voice. Three hundred shows in a year, man, and sometimes I'd show up and be half as good as I should have been. I felt bad about that.''
He felt bad too about all the young women he temporarily befriended. ``I was never sleazy. I was never mean to a girl. I was always very upfront.'' His voice tails off. ``But I'm a regular guy. I am a lad, and I did enjoy the temptations.''
Buble is such an appealingly open character you wonder whether he might supply more details. Instead, he re-counts a sobering conversation with his girlfriend of seven years, now his fiancee, Debbie.
``She didn't get mad. She said, `I understand what you're going through. And you must understand how embarrassing it is for me.' Which made me feel like crap, you know, like `Is it worth it?'''
He proposed to Debbie over the phone before Christmas and earnestly hopes that he has put his womanizing behind him. ``It had better be behind me, man, or I won't be engaged for very long.''
Other aspects of becoming famous have been less troublesome. Buble loved being able to phone fellow ``new'' jazzer Jamie Cullum - ``a great guy'' whom he had never met - and get together with him two hours later in a restaurant. They now sit in on each other's shows.
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