It was Sunday night. My first Sunday in Washington. The excitement and the stresses of the Wedding were over. And “the speech” was behind me. Time to enjoy. John Shosky invited me and Denise Graveline to Blues Alley in Georgetown. I didn’t know what to expect really, but like Buster going for a walk in a new place, I was keen.
Friends have been trying to teach me about music and how to appreciate it since I was at school. Gareth Sherwood started when we were school friends. Meredith Lloyd keeps widening my horizons and opening my eyes and my ears to more and more. I like music – I am just an ignorant music philistine who likes happy music. But I am learning. The music likes on my Facebook page keep growing.
The entrance to Blues Alley is in an alley. The place used to be a garage. It is dark and has naked brick walls that used to watch mechanics fix metal. There is space for 125 guests. No more. John is waiting for us – he had got there early so that we had the best table, literally, in the house. From where we sit we have direct eye contact with all of the band’s positions. And we have food and wine. To start off with anyway. Singapore slings will come later…
In the UK much has been said recently about how people increasingly experience TV and other events while using social media. Twin screens. This enhanced and group social experience of BBC Question Time and other programmes is supposed to be the way forward. While we Ubered to Georgetown, I lazily wondered if Blues Alley had wifi – so may restaurants and bars do these days. I soon found out the answer to that question.
As the place fills and the mode becomes expectant we are told that no photography or audio taping is allowed. Fair enough. Then the house rules are explained further. No texting, tweeting, or talking. Never mind “phones off please” like in the cinema – here it is no phones in the hand. Switch them off and put them away. And no talking. You come to Blues Alley to eat and drink. Then to listen to jazz. Period. So there I am… no phone, microphone or photo equipment allowed. I have to use my eyes and my ears to capture the evening. And the second bottle of wine is already on the table. For over 10 years I have pretty much not gone anywhere without a pen and paper and a camera or phone so that I can capture those special phrases, images or memories. How will I manage? Will I remember anything the next morning apart from the anticipated headache and the fact that I had had an amazing evening. Will I be able to write anything the next day – let alone two days later?
Danny leads the band onto the stage. He picks up his six string electronic bass guitar. He must be in his 50’s or 60’s, bespectacled, with a foot and more long pony tail and a small gray goatee, a small black pot hat dunked on his head, a golden ear-ring in his left ear, a large black short sleeved shirt, very baggy black pants and black shoes. He has an amazing smile, big, chubby fingers and forearms and he hasn’t counted calories for decades.
With slightly different clothes and without the disarming smile, Jeff the phenomenal drummer could have been Jeff the New York banker or an ambitious accessory jerk in Suits. He is in his late 20’s to mid 30’s with short tufty hair and a petulant pretty-baby-face look with a protruding golfballchin when concentrating. He is wearing black too – except his shirt has fold-back burberry-style-check under his cuffs and behind his collar. He is wearing a leather necklet and a light gray waistcoat. He makes the Tama drums dance.
Then Chris Thomas King comes on stage. He has a baby face too with a diamond stud earring in his right ear. He has on a black Ascot-races top hat with a black, white and red two inch feather and another longer, 6 inch feather – black and white at the base and with an orange plume cheekily presiding over the top. He has a black shirt with an orange and white slim-striped cravat, black trousers with a red/orangey pinstripe and light gray braces that match Jeff’s waistcoat. Or vice versa…
All three have their eyes closed. Chris Thomas King comes to the microphone. Sweat is already trickling down his cheek. He drawls out his words and explains a little about Louisiana. He asks us to “soak up the vibe”. I do.
Then they start to play. There are drum solos, bass guitar solos, piano and acoustic guitar gigs. There are cheeky asides (Danny is … words fail me…) and the three of them play us and for us and with each other. It is mega. We stay for the second set. Obviously. It is totally different but the same. Different songs, different jokes and different gags. Different things to delight and rejoice in.
John and Denise revel in favourite songs. I wallow in the experience. Ignorant but blown away. Loving it all. Concentrating with everything I have on it all. My words can’t do them or the experience justice. It is spiritual, sensual, physical. Extreme focus. Social media correctly left at the door. You had to be there.
Despite the Singapore Slings, I managed to switch on my phone at the end of the night to get a picture with Chris Thomas King. #HappyBot