Jessy J. She’s hot, she’s young and she’s a Latina. A marketing manna from heaven presented to the buttoned-down severity of smooth-jazz, J’s natural attributes spray to all fields in a genre whose public view is overwhelmingly white, middle-aged and dowdy, veracity be damned. Like fellow smooth saxophonists Mindi Abair and Candy Dulfer, Jessy J’s figure gets prominent play on her debut CD and on her Web site. That’s savvy. Male listeners want to be her boyfriend, and female listeners want her bod. Listen, sex will be selling female-and male-CDs long after we’re gone, so the point of this preamble isn’t to diminish J’s musical talents, which are huge. It’s to hopefully convince you that behind all that sexual allure is a formidable player who is capable of more than side gigs with Michael Bolton and Gloria Trevi.
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