Daily Blague

Last night, Kathleen and I got to do something new: we went to the Village Vanguard. We'd never been! We've been to the Blue Note often enough, but never to its venerable downtown rival. It turned out that, all unknowing, we'd been playing Jack Sprat with Miss G. She sounds an habitué of the Vanguard, but has never been to the Blue Note. We'll have to take her there soon, now that she has taken us to the Vanguard.

The Blue Note is basically a storefront operation with a stage in the back - only it's not placed where a stage ought to be. It ought to have its back to the rear wall, but it doesn't; instead, the stage backs on to the rear end of one of the long west wall. It's an odd configuration, and because the tables are set perpendicular to the stage, getting yourself into a good position to see the musicians while watching them is tricky. It's very easy to be much too close or much too far. The Vanguard, in contrast, is an agreeably fan-shaped room, and although all the banquette seats face the middle of the room, and not the stage, the end result, when everybody's seated, is that of an irregular auditorium. I don't know what it's like in the back, but I don't think that sitting too close is a problem.

Pianist Cedar Walton led a trio, with David Williams on the bass and Lewis Nash on the drums, and trumpeter Roy Hargrove appeared as a "special guest." All the musicians were new to me, but they were all gifted pros who knew their way blindfolded through the labyrinths of coherent improvisation. Mr Walton sounded a bit like Keith Jarrett at the start, but with his second number, a commemoration of his mother, he pursued Ellingtonian leads. In short, he is a versatile virtuoso. Mr Williams seemed to have more to say than there were bars to say it in, and he even contrived to command a virtual solo even though Mr Walton and Mr Nash were playing at the time. Mr Nash is a young but masterful drummer, and his big solo, when it finally came, brought down the house.

Roy Hargrove, who warmed up with "The Very Thought of You" on the flugelhorn, and who gradually convinced the audience to wait until he was finished with his beautifully dynamic closes before applauding, is a minimalist who likes to keep his solos short and to the point and then to sit on the sidelines. Such self-effacement is not common among trumpeters (or so Miss G assured us). His warm tone could be bright and snappy when called for, but his musicianship is touched by a sacred beauty that certainly made me want to hear more. As indeed I shall, Tower willing.

The most interesting note of the evening was struck by Miss G herself. She seemed genuinely surprised that Kathleen and I would have a great time listening to great jazz. I don't think that Miss G understands that, as she said at breakfast this morning, Kathleen likes nothing so much as to sit in a small room while people play jazz. I wish we had more time. But one things for certain: Miss G, Kathleen and I have hit upon something that we all like to do.