If holding hands could have a sound, Norah Jones would be that sound. Her voice is tenderness and reassurance; it’s a steadying directness with a dash of staying alive. Her voice and her hands on the keys of the piano, or any other keyboard, are equals. One is not more or less than the other. They cannot do without the other — like two holding hands. The connection is as sentimental as it is affirming.

Listen to her tell you stories with music. Each note and phrase is nuanced. The harmonic spacing and melodic timing seems perfectly in step with the pace at which your ears want to be entertained and gifted. You didn’t even know. Listen to her make music you want to hold hands to, feel closer with, dance and sway to, stay alive with, and let strong tenderness reassure you. It is as serious as all of the above.

It is brave and honest, and where it is brazen it is not raw, offending or challenging, nor is it necessarily safe or expected, either. It falls and fills in the places where distractions can take you, those in-betweens, and so, holding hands, because she sounds like it and it feels good, is what you may well feel to do — because it is Norah Jones.