Look, I’m not going to pretend I know a lot about jazz or even blues. I like to think I know a little more than the average bloke, but I am certainly not an authority.
But I know what I like, ladies and gentleman. I know what I like and I know that there are times I get sick of seeing rock bands. Why this happens, I can’t say for sure—maybe it just becomes background noise, a muddy blur of distortion, screaming, solos, cymbal crashes etc., but sometimes I just want something different.
Whatever the reason I’ve recently slunk into one of these ruts, so you can imagine my relief when the terms “Brothel Blues/Jazz” popped up on the calendar for the Saint.
Brothel Blues. You don’t even have to describe that. You can hear it. You can hear the smoky club- glasses clanking and the buzz of voices becoming part of the songs. I was in New Orleans in the spring for Mardi Gras and the best night I had was at a local dive, far off Bourbon Street, candle lit, crowded, with a small band tucked into the corner quietly blasting away on their horns. No amplifiers, no one asking the crowd to toast and take care of their bartenders. Just music.
Miss Ida Blue seems to know the vibe. Sure, the videos on her website suggest they’re not the kind of act that you can tuck into a corner, no they’re front and center, and they’re going to grab your attention even if they don’t have to throttle you over the head to get it.
The band floats a thick rhythm for Miss Blue’s voice to wail atop. And that band is no joke, featuring veterans of Woody Allen’s band as well as the Manhattan Rhythm Kings and the Boardwalk Empire orchestra.
So, for one evening, the Saint, which has hosted countless rock bands—great rock bands—will disguise itself as a speakeasy or a brothel (not really). Formal evening wear optional.
