This past Friday I decided to make a break from my doldrums here in Jersey for the evening and hit NYC for a show and a night of wandering the streets. I took the train up with nothing more than my copy of “On the Road” to keep me company.

After wandering around the village a bit trying to get my bearings leaving the subway I eventually found the venue and paid my $15 at the door. The Lion’s Den was packed from left to right and front to back. My wanderings had cost me a few songs from the opening act, which I was soon to find out was a true crime.

The Jennifer Hartswick Band had managed to cram about 7 or 8 people onto a relatively small stage. The drummer and bassist were all but lost in the back and they had a keyboardist sitting far stage left on a part of the stage that looked like it was just there for the night’s performance only. I guess that’s what having a large horn section does in small venues. Actually, it made things feel all the more right; the band was as crowded as the audience was.

The music itself was very jazz, funk and soul influenced and Jennifer could belt out a tune like you wouldn’t belive. I moved up as far as I could to take it all in. The guy standing next to me just kept saying “wow” over and over and I could only concur. Every song kept impressing me more than the next one. They even pulled out a rocking cover of Chicago’s “25 or 6 to 4″ that had looking for my jaw somewhere on the floor.

During all this musical flabergastry I managed to interact with the crowd a bit. I found a few transplants from Alabama to talk to, one who had just moved to the city that night. Then there was the white bearded aging hippy who looked to be in his 70′s at the least, still moving about like a man half his age to the music. Someone told me that he was featured in Relix at some point because he makes it to so many shows. I can only pray I’m doing the same thing when I’m that old.

As the Hartwick Band took their bows and moved off stage, I made my way forward to the front for the reason I made my trip that night: The Jazz Mandolin Project. I figured that some people would give in to their inner lush and hit the bar between sets, but never did I count on enough people going that I would actually get to hang off the monitors at the front of the stage. Sweetness!

As they did the first time I saw them, Jamie Masefield and company wowed the hell out of me. What’s more, being so close I could see every twitch and flick of the wrist that made the music all possible. The drummer almost seemed to be double jointed at times he played so fast.

On top of all the goodness, I had it doubled for free. That’s right, two sets, two sets, TWO SETS for the price of one! Quite a pleasant surprise to wander into.

Eventually they got somewhat tired with playing regular instruments because Masefield broke out an assortment of slide whistles and other odd noisemakers while the drummer pulled out dinner knives and a roasting pan to use in addition to his regular kit. I would have laughed at the outrageous sight if they didn’t manage to make it sound unbelievablely good in the process.

The night ended with an encore cover of a Neil Young song; which one in particular I’m afraid I can’t say but I’d know it if I heard it. Afterwards I went to go get a slice of pizza for my empty stomach and to figure out what to do with the 5 hours I had left to kill before my train ride home could begin.

I decided to go take in some more music at a lovely little basement bar called Cafe Creole that I was introduced to some time ago. They always seem to have a great little trip playing. Few things in the world can compare to guitar, drums and a Hammond organ played by proficient musicians. They had people dancing and shouting in all corners of the bar, which is not much bigger than the bedroom I had left that morning. They played until sometime after 2 and called it a night. I took that as my cue to go find something else to do.

Now I could have hit any number of bars, but I was already comfortably buzzed and any more alcohol would have ruined it, so instead I decided to start wandering the streets of the Village, eventually making my way to SoHo before hopping an R train up to Times Square.

Yes, it might be considered somewhat touristy to check Times Square, but to be honest I like the touristy shit. I had my camera out and did my best to capture the some of the scene. Most of the video screens were off, thought the neon was still as bright as anything. I could feel the tiredness starting to creep in but it was only about 4:30 at this point, I still had an hour and a half to kill and my body was not cooperating with me. I figured I would cut my losses and hit Penn Station a little earlier than I planned. At least there I would have a seat.

I walked into the deathly silent waiting area. Half of the people were asleep and the other half we seemingly lost in their thoughts. I had bought a pretzel to munch on during my wait and I cringed every time the brown bag it was in rustled, half expecting someone to yell at me for making too much noise.

I did a lot of reading until my eyes got as tired as the rest of my body. I caught some unrestful sleep out of sheer necessity, but eventually my train got called and I was finally on my way home. I was certainly glad I made the trip out for the night, but I was equally as glad to see my bed that Saturday morning. While many were gearing up to watch their college football games, I was saying hello to Mr. Sandman as we compared notes from the show.

The Sandman is a big Jazz Mandolin fan, don’t ya know? ^_^

Tags: Personal

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