Indonesian-born, Singapore-based vocalist Reggie Pryor returns with his second full-length project six years after Love Anthology, working in close partnership with pianist Jeremy Monteiro. Released through d’Andalan Records on May 26, My Favorite Things gathers eleven standards from film, theater and the jazz songbook, yet its appeal comes from the personalities handling them. Pryor brings warmth and careful diction; Monteiro supplies wit, movement and an instinct for answering a vocal phrase at exactly the right moment.
If somebody asked me for one song as an introduction, I would choose Smile, because its opening minutes establish the album’s manners with unusual clarity. The production sounds luxurious and spacious, the tempo allows every phrase to settle, and Pryor’s voice has the honeyed weight associated with classic crooners. His connection to the Sinatra tradition is easy to hear, especially in the rounded vowels and patient timing, though his baritone carries a softer edge. He treats the pauses between phrases as part of the melody, allowing anticipation to do some of the expressive work.
With Monteiro present across the entire program, his piano occupies equal narrative space and regularly negotiates with Pryor’s phrasing. A vocal line may arrive smooth and settled while the piano adds a teasing accent underneath it; elsewhere, Monteiro leaves a chord hanging long enough for Pryor to decide how much emotion the next word can hold. Their partnership has the ease of musicians who trust each other’s timing. Pryor remains the storyteller, while Monteiro controls the pace, harmonic tension and space around each line.
Beyond the central exchange between voice and piano, the orchestral writing supports both performers through precise detail instead of relying on sheer size. Strings extend the emotional tail of a phrase, saxophone provides flashes of heat, and harmonica introduces a more fragile color on the quieter material. Double bass and drums maintain a supple swing with enough elasticity for the vocal to breathe. Sessions spread across Singapore, Germany and Bulgaria, yet the finished mix keeps the ensemble compact, especially when the rhythm section settles behind Pryor and lets a small change in his tone command attention. Among the album’s rhythmic choices, the samba treatment of My Favorite Things provides the sharpest change of posture. Monteiro pushes the familiar melody into quick, buoyant motion, and Pryor responds with a lighter delivery that reveals extra agility in his voice. The arrangement treats the Rodgers and Hammerstein standard as material with room for play, using the melody’s familiarity as a source of momentum. It is also one of the clearest examples of the partnership working in both directions: the pianist alters the singer’s stance, while the singer keeps the rhythmic activity connected to the lyric.
Within the album’s quieter material, Pryor reveals why this repertoire suits the grain and patience of his baritone. Moon River, I Wish You Love and Pure Imagination all place longing inside long, memorable melodic lines, and he approaches them through measured affection. Moon River carries an almost devotional calm, while I Wish You Love receives an unhurried interpretation that allows its melody to remain central. I already love that song, so hearing Pryor and Monteiro handle it with such confidence produced one of the album’s easiest pleasures. The performance trusts the composition and concentrates on tone, timing and the emotional consequence of each pause.
Carmen Bradford’s appearance on How Do You Keep the Music Playing? brings another voice into the conversation at exactly the right point. Pryor has spent much of the program addressing memory, romance and hope from a solitary position; Bradford answers with her own phrasing and authority. Their voices carry different textures, and the contrast creates a genuine exchange rather than decorative guest placement. Monteiro listens closely beneath them, shaping the piano part around two singers who approach the same question from distinct emotional positions.
Over eleven songs, the consistent finish gradually reveals the clearest limitation in Pryor and Monteiro’s shared approach. Several ballads occupy a similar orchestral temperature, and their shared softness blurs some of the individual edges. The strings often arrive with comparable warmth, while Pryor favors the same level of control even when a lyric could support a rougher or drier response. A lean trio arrangement placed deeper into the running order would have created a stronger interruption and exposed another side of his baritone.
By the time Pure Imagination closes the album, its sadness comes partly from the prospect of leaving Pryor and Monteiro’s company. Pryor sings it as an invitation carrying the knowledge that every imagined place eventually releases its visitor, while Monteiro keeps the farewell tender and direct. I played Smile again immediately after the final chord; another hour with them sounded preferable to silence.
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