The first time I was fortunate enough to see Amy and the Hank Sinatras do their thing, there was an immense American flag draped to one side of the band. Not that unusual, except that the gig was at Vic's Kangaroo Club ("A taste of down under in' New Orleans"). It seemed a little odd in a bar festooned with ancient Foster's ads. But as I sipped my second Jack and Coke to get me in the mood, I thought it more and more apt because-despite the club atmosphere-what I was hearing on stage was dist...