In retrospect, it seems utterly ludicrous that Harry Connick Jr.'s debut album consisted solely of instrumentals. Not that the twenty-one-year-old's piano playing isn't worthy. In fact, it's breathtaking, dexterously jumping from Professor Longhair-style boogie-woogie to Thelonious Monklike syncopated moodiness.

But as his charming, charismatic live performances demonstrate, the New Orleans-born Connick is more than just a key-tinkling prodigy. He's a consummate showman, synthesizing the swagger of Sinatra and the debonair style of Astaire. On Connick's second album, 20, his ballad-friendly voice soared; his third, the soundtrack to When Harry – no relation – Met Sally ..., allows him to run the gamut of jazz performance, from pseudo bigband bluster (on "It Had to Be You," "But Not for Me" and "I Could Write a Book") to quiet, clublike improvisation.

He still sounds more assured doing the latter, often accompanied by plucky bassist Benjamin Jonah Wolfe and steady drummer Jeff "Tain" Watts. Even though the song choices are all warhorses, Connick cannily personalizes them, pumping new life into each: He slyly ends "It Had to Be You" with a "Salt Peanuts"-like tag, and on "Let's Call the Whole Thing Off," he sings, "You say tomato/I say creole tomatah."

Though the movie When Harry Met Sally ... would have been much more romantic had Connick played Billy Crystal's part, its soundtrack still serves as a great introduction to these classics for a new generation and a winning Connick showcase for those unfortunate millions who've yet to discover him. (RS 562)

DAVID HANDELMAN