Saturday, February 11, 2012

Doorman's Diary 1.10-11.12

The cool dual played tonight. The old piano player and the quirky singer. The keyboard guy has been playing jazz clubs for a good 40 years or so and always with a soulful, top-notch female vocalist. I call the singer quirky because her goofy personality comes out in full bloom between songs and sometimes when she squeezes out an extra note or two confirming her incredible range that starts from a low earthquake growl and reaches an octave or two beyond Minnie Mouse. One could get the impression that she just doesn't take life that seriously, even though her singing is seriously good. She takes full control of the club when she belts out Dr. Feel Good or God Bless the Child (the Billie Holiday song she, thankfully, sang twice--once at the bequest of a drunk patron, and the second time clearly in the flow of her regular program). At one point, she invited her husband up to join her in a duet of "Unforgettable." He has a voice that would make Al Jarreau hang it up and submit an application to work at the car wash. Together they were honey and whiskey stirred smoothly into fresh-brewed coffee--hot toddy, for sure. And all through the songs was the competent key-tingling of proper-pappa-pianist--elegantly exquisite! The performance was so engaging I almost found myself getting irritated with the patrons entering the club--fortunately my inner Doorman caught me before I blurted, "Come on buster, it's pay or pass!" As the night wound down, and I was relishing my off-the-clock cognac, I got chatting with an interesting-looking couple who were bemoaning the economic gutter that has become the new norm in America. "You must be self-employed," I said to the artsy-looking woman who is accompanied by the equally artsy-looking man.  "We are," she said. "We're both artists." She then explained that they are in the process of buying a new home--a foreclosure--located on a several-block stretch of one of the most forgettable streets in the city. She was apologetic about the location, sensing that it doesn't match their artistic personas. My advice as The Doorman: "Don't fret it--you two will make it into a hidden-away oasis of cool." Just like the very cool jazz club we're all in tonight, I thought loud enough for her to hear. She nodded in agreement. 

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