“Cha-ha-aild!” crooned the unsupportable singer. “Wooo!!” cheered 15 of her friends, family and neighbors. I made sheep eyes at the pretty, curly-haired supporting vocals and violin. T was enchanted. “This is just a jive short of a Bandra catholic gathering!” she said, misty eyed with nostalgia. P sipped her exotic cardamom-flavored-litchi-swirl-strongly-laced-with-vodka and smiled tolerantly at all and sundry. Such was Friday night at Blue Frog, the “revolutionary integrated music project in India.” Actually, I like the place. It’s eclectic, interesting and informal—I’ve attended a poetry recital program and a screening of award winning shorts from around the world there. I even won a branded mug during a promo of a movie whose name you may not have heard of, there. I probably shouldn’t be hard on up-and-coming talent, but see that’s the problem. I didn’t see the “up” side. Her “li-hi-ve withooooutjuuuuu!” made us all reach for the fries simultaneously and fight