My faith now has been restored in the Church’s outdoor jazz concerts, even when they’re indoors because of rain. The Burnells were a joy to see. Their arrangements were lively. There was humor and energy. Mark rocked the piano and did a great impression of a bass fiddle.

The Burnells appear at churches with some regularity. And, in addition to other venues at which they both perform, Mark’s trio regularly plays at the Tortoise Supper Club on State Street, without Anne, as a way, I suppose, of keeping the separation between church and State Street.

I haven’t seen their act before (though I would gladly see it again), so I have nothing against which to compare this performance, but they didn’t seem to let the venue restrict their playlist, which included the double-entendred (an adjective I just invented) Cy Coleman ditty, The Tennis Song, from City of Angels.

During the performance, Anne mentioned that she was wearing jewelry given to her by a couple friends in the audience, that she liked to wear the jewelry as a way of having her friends with her wherever she goes, but that she now had enough jewelry, so, if anyone wanted to give her gift, she could use some underwear. Something to think about if we get a group together to see her sing sometime in the future.

At the end of the concert, before two encores that pleasantly extended ten minutes past the scheduled conclusion of the program, the crowd rose in unison to give the Burnells a standing ovation. That seemed like no small feat given the average age of the Noonday Concert patrons (which doesn’t lend itself to them rising quickly from their seats), until I discovered that Anne also does fitness instruction for seniors.