I can’t work in an abstract way at the piano, and in any case I don’t have the jazz technique to run all over the keyboard spewing a dazzling array of filigree. I need a story, an idea, a color, and as usual it emerged from the lyrics to the song. “Joseph, do you see what we’re doing? We’re painting a picture of Tunisia at night. Not the real Tunisia, where you could get your throat slit and your wallet stolen. No, an idealized Tunisia, an exotic, romantic place where everyone is beautiful and available, and drinks are on the house.” (NB: I’m paraphrasing what I actually said in order to keep my G-rating on this blog.) “Let’s not jab at the piano, let’s caress it. Let’s make a night full of stars and perfumed women.” (Again, paraphrasing.)

Over lunch Bénédicte and I made a plan B (the show without Colin at all) and plan C (the show with a couple of songs Colin might be able to sing by Sunday, cutting the heavy-duty numbers). One piece we chose as a replacement for our Ponchielli trio was “Chi il bel sogno” from Puccini’s “La rondine,” which Shelén offered. She and I gave it a run and it was pretty ravishing. “Oh wow, I haven’t touched that aria in years,” she murmured as I played the postlude. As last-minute substitutions go, you could do a lot worse.