A disappointing night as far as music. I had been looking forward to this jazz quintet all week -- buffing my shoes, pressing my trousers’ razor-sharp creases, and choosing the right tie from either my corporate-enslavement collection or my vintage ties collected from deceased relatives, thrift shops, or rifling through friends' closets when they are unaware. (I'm joking about that last part -- I am not a closet snooper). All of the above activity is standard prep for The Doorman. But, as I was saying... I took extra care for tonight because I truly like this group. The first disappointment was two of the five musicians were stand ins--albeit seasoned jazzmen, but still new to the mix of musicians and their songbook. Without a practice session, it would take at least two or three songs before they would jell. Second, the mike for the jazz singer, who accompanies the quintet, was on mute. It was excruciating to hear her exquisite voice being buried under the group's initial floundering for cohesion. And lastly, the group took a break with barely an hour of play in--which meant that anyone with an ear for music left. Our modest-sized crowd was immediately halved. I felt totally WTFed. Fortunately, the mike was fixed and the band found its groove, but that was at just-beyond-the-half-way point of the night. It was nice to hear the trumpet and tenor in sync. Their individual solos had been wonderful, but they always sound best coming from a baseline of harmonizing. The group did a terrific version of Mary J. Blige’s My Life, before it was time for me to fold up the sidewalk easel sign proclaiming LIVE JAZZ & BLUES and retire to the bar for my post-door-duty Jameson, neat.