Harry Connick Jr.

AS THE BAND'S FINAL CHORD dies away, the young man who's been singing tender words of love looks up and flashes his audience a dazzling smile. It's all a bit too much for the ladies in the house, and their squeals reach deafening proportions. Meanwhile, in front of the stage, several hundred pounds of security-conscious muscle braces itself to hold back another hormone-charged onslaught.