Some of the people who heard jazz singer Richard Jackson perform at Singapore’s Esplanade Concert Hall last weekend (May 29-30) with Jeremy Monteiro, the T’ang Quartet, Randy Brecker, Ernie Watts and Christy Smith probably thought he flew in just for the Arts Festival, just like his fellow Americans Brecker and Watts did.

That couldn’t be further off the mark, however, because Jackson has been based in Singapore for over a year at the Boat Quay branch of Harry’s jazz bar, where bass player Smith is a veteran. His relative obscurity shouldn’t come as too much of a surprise though since in Singapore, more than many other places, familiarity breeds contempt.

Too often, the assumption is that you can’t possibly be all that talented if you had to come all the way to a cultural backwater like Singapore to get a gig; you’re only worth seeing if you deign to set foot here for an occasional performance before returning to New York.

However, that kind of cultural near-sightedness means that we Singaporeans too often miss what’s lurking right under our noses because we’re too busy gazing at Europe and the USA.

Here’s a reality check: Singapore’s packed with world-class jazz cats, many of them expats who have chosen to base themselves in Singapore for reasons that range from the desire to see the world, to pure serendipity (a word that Jeremy Monteiro likes a lot, which is understandable considering how many geniuses he’s met by chance). Christy Smith is an outstanding bass player. Briton Greg Lyons, who plays at Blu Jaz Cafe, is a respected saxophonist. And our very own home-grown jazzman Jeremy Monteiro has the chops and musical imagination to play with the best of them.

Many of these jazz cats gig around the region, and sometimes as far afield as Europe and the Americas, where people go out of their way to check out what Singaporeans can enjoy locally for the price of a beer at Harry’s.

Jackson’s performance last weekend exhibited that wonderful combination of chops and taste that marks great singers. When someone is technically able to sing every note, but chooses to restrain himself to just the right ones, that’s artistry. His rendition of Rodgers and Hart’s My Funny Valentine saw him slide easily through wide note intervals that evinced an instrument player’s sensibility. At several points I was reminded of Coltrane. And his version of Chick Corea’s Spain paid homage to Al Jarreau’s version while making it his own. Further evidence of Jackson’s wide musical vocabulary came with his scat singing, which not just imitated horn timbres, but showed an intimate understanding of horn phrasing.

Don’t panic if you do decide to head down to Boat Quay to hear Jackson and don’t see him there, because he’s heading down to Malaysian capital Kuala Lumpur (where I’m writing this entry from, incidentally) to play two weekends – June27-28 and July 3-4 – at Club Alexis. Don’t worry, he’s still based at Harry’s in Singapore. Just don’t wait for him to leave before you start appreciating him.

Of course, Jackson was just one part of a bonafide supergroup in last weekend’s performance, which was Jeremy Monteiro’s brainchild and lists him and the T’ang Quartet as the headliners in the Arts Festival programme, but was really a group collaboration. It was the first time both Monteiro and Watts (who has won two Grammys) had ever performed with five-time Grammy-winning trumpet player Randy Brecker, and Watts told me over dinner on Monday night how much he had enjoyed the experience.

The combined ensenble sometimes sounded a bit like the group that toured with Michael Brecker (the late younger brother of Randy Brecker) when he was promoting his Nearness Of You album. I remember hearing his group play at Yoshi’s in Berkeley round the turn of the millennium, and there was a similar kind of lush denseness combined with swinging virtuosity. My favourites were Ernie Watts’ tribute to Michael Brecker, For Michael, and Randy Brecker’s Moontide. While it’s unlikely a recording of last weekend’s Arts Festival concerts will ever be released, I’m going to keep my fingers crossed.