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Jun. 18th, 2002 11:08 pmTonight -- danish vodka, tuna tartar, seafood in a pasta pocket with a saffron sauce that put this weekend's bouillabaisse to shame with its subtle control. And tonight is a Tuesday.
Jazz club, on an off night. Polished glasses hanging above a bar made of polished black granite. The bar surface so shiny, it reflects the glasses hanging from above. To look through the bar is to see hundreds of glasses, standing straight and waiting for drinks as diverse as the city itself.
The jazz is B-list. There is playing where jazz is merely all there is. There is playing from hunger...hunger for cash, for sex, for fame, where jazz is only a tool. There is playing from hobby, where jazz is fun, a puzzle to work out and get lost in for a song or a night. This bar normally has the former. It's far too good for the hungry. Tonight was the latter -- accomplished musicians who just plain lacked the will to give up the dayjob and live the life of jazz. Moonlighters.
Jazz club, on an off night. Polished glasses hanging above a bar made of polished black granite. The bar surface so shiny, it reflects the glasses hanging from above. To look through the bar is to see hundreds of glasses, standing straight and waiting for drinks as diverse as the city itself.
The jazz is B-list. There is playing where jazz is merely all there is. There is playing from hunger...hunger for cash, for sex, for fame, where jazz is only a tool. There is playing from hobby, where jazz is fun, a puzzle to work out and get lost in for a song or a night. This bar normally has the former. It's far too good for the hungry. Tonight was the latter -- accomplished musicians who just plain lacked the will to give up the dayjob and live the life of jazz. Moonlighters.
