The Underground
Posted: February 12, 2013 Filed under: Upper West Side | Tags: TUESDAY TOILET TALK Comments Off on The UndergroundA few Wednesdays ago, I walked down to The Underground Lounge in below 20 degrees Fahrenheit weather, testing the effectiveness of my Uniqlo Heattech top. I stepped through the door more South of the two, marked “The Underground Live,” to enter directly into the performance area.
Excited to finally hear my friend’s brass quartet, I didn’t even mind the cold draft coming in as the door opened and closed with more people. I thawed quickly enough with body heat from the many enthusiastic audience members but it must have been challenging for the brass musicians to play in the cold.
I couldn’t quite put my finger on it but there was something whimsical about The Westerlies. Was it Riley Mulherkar (trumpet) and Andy Clausen’s (trombone) matching chambray button-downs, red pants and brown dress shoes? Was it Willem de Koch’s (trombone) jaunty bass lines? Was it Zubin Hensler’s (trumpet) effusive enthusiasm for the ensemble that I had heard much of? Maybe it was Andy’s rosy cheeks?
Perhaps it was the visual configuration reminiscent of a music box, only with a row of four Seattle boys similar in height, instead of a twirling ballerina. The inadequate lighting cast shadows over their faces if they stepped back and the slide of the trombone hit the frame of the red curtains as I feared, but the small corner stage was not too big, not too small and just right for The Westerlies.
Go through the door dividing the live music area and the lounge to get to the men’s and women’s bathrooms. The music from the lounge interferes with the performance when the door opens so try to avoid going in the middle of songs. I waited my turn to use the women’s restroom and found that the corners were occupied with a small sink, the toilet and cleaning supplies under a bench.
I stuck around a bit for the following group on the double bill because our men’s room correspondent substitute, Dave, happened to be playing bass with Adam Kromelow. The pianist’s original piece about his pot brownie experience augmented the high school/college basement party-like vibe of the place, with plastic cups full of beer around and the sense that the place needed folding chairs.
Miks from Latvia tells us how to say “Where’s the restroom?” in Latvian —
Drom
Posted: January 22, 2013 Filed under: East Village | Tags: TUESDAY TOILET TALK Comments Off on DromHaving presented my ticket to the guy at the door, I became thoroughly confused when he informed me that the show had already happened a week ago. I showed up for the show scheduled on Sunday the 13th but learned after some reiteration that the present day was actually the 20th. Sheepishly, I asked him for a description of the lineup for that night and went in deciding that there was likely improvisation involved in one of the Balkan bands.
I’ve been daily poring over a hand-drawn calendar posted by my bed in an effort to focus and live with clarity the first months in the new year. And yet, I failed to make the connection between the date of the show and the numbers on my calendar, showing up an entire week too late. My brain rebels against my meticulous, detail-oriented nature once in a while, resulting in hilarious situations like the time I showed up for my flight a couple hours after it departed and the time I headed to the wrong airport altogether.
Actually, upon hearing what I later learned was coined “Balkan Psychedelic Jazz-Rock” from a band named Choban Elektrik, I was glad for the serendipitous turn of the night. I seldom go to concerts where I don’t already know who’s playing but I enjoyed the energetic, danceable music of the group consisting of violin, voice, drums, bass and Nord/guitar/accordion.
The multi-instrumentalist leader of the group mumbled something between songs but I couldn’t decipher what he was saying and was bewildered as to what they were playing and who they were. This may be how a casual listener at a jazz concert feels. It’s important to make clear announcements from the stage, making no assumption that the audience has any depth of knowledge in the matter presented.
This venue presenting world music, jazz, funk and more has one men’s room and two women’s rooms. The women’s room to the left is only about half the width of the one to the right. The sink hangs slightly over the toilet in there, making it cumbersome to use so I recommend that you use the more spacious bathroom to the right. They both had large, modern hand dryers. I only got a peek into the men’s room and saw that they had bar stools stacked up in the corner by the entrance. The Drom has awesome restroom signs that they’ve clearly put some thought into.
Eva from the band sang convincingly in Turkish and Romanese, even though she speaks neither. She mentioned that the Drom is run by Turks and directed me to an employee who could translate our key phrase for us in Turkish. Ilker tells us how to say, “Where’s the restroom?” –
Cleopatra’s Needle
Posted: January 8, 2013 Filed under: Upper West Side | Tags: TUESDAY TOILET TALK Comments Off on Cleopatra’s NeedleJetlagged and feeling like I’ve been hit by a ton of bricks by the abrupt beginning of the new semester, I decided to go for a walk down Broadway to get fresh air and check out Cleopatra’s Needle last night.
With Happy New Year streamers and colorful helium balloons reminiscent of an eight-year-old’s birthday party still hung, the place felt unpretentious and comfortable. The huge clock on the wall likely makes it a good spot to count down to the New Year. And if you find the live music uninteresting, you can watch silent television at the bar.
The jam session hosted by pianist Roger Lent was similarly unpretentious yet colorful. A guy broke out in funny little dances to the side of the stage and an old lady got up to sing with her cassette tape recorder in hand, chatting up the audience. What guts she has. I hope that I can be as willing to try something new and potentially embarrassing when I’m at that age. Or now.
The two bathrooms are located to the left of the stage, immediately past the bar. The women’s bathroom was stocked with toilet paper in a child’s high chair. It had a small sink, a small wastebasket, a bigger wastebasket and a toilet that is prone to splashing up water higher from the bowl than you would predict. It may be a smart safety measure to step back when you flush.
On this assignment to Cleopatra’s Needle, I realized that the men’s room correspondent is not only needed to document the men’s room, but also to act as a buffer between me and unwelcome suitors. The man hitting on me clearly did not understand that I don’t care who his uncle’s father is or what venues he books acts for. If he was romping around Manhattan in the ’80s and he sees me sitting there with my cup of tea, talking about being in school, doesn’t he realize that I may not even have been born in the ’80s? He left me his phone number, guaranteeing his placement on the Do Not Call list.
Soils from South Africa who played in the session kindly said that he could tell I’m from the West Coast because I have a warmth about me; however, this Cali sunshine doesn’t extend so far to shameless men looking to pick up girls. Soils tells us how to say, “Where’s the restroom” in Zulu –
Garage
Posted: December 25, 2012 Filed under: Greenwich Village | Tags: TUESDAY TOILET TALK Comments Off on GarageA restaurant that touts live jazz seven days a week, the Garage was relatively quiet when I arrived past midnight last Tuesday, technically Wednesday. The place seemed somewhat like a caricature, a cartoon character’s home with its humongous chandelier, a Christmas tree spinning upside-down from the ceiling and oversized wooden carvings of silverware and handyman tools. Large glowing orange orbs hung from the ceiling amidst the excessive holiday decorations depicting Santa Claus.
In addition to the upside-down tree, there were five smaller Christmas trees that I could see and more potted poinsettias than I could count. The Garage also seemed to be counting challenged, billing the ensemble of saxophone, guitar, bass and drums as a trio. Bassist Dave Baron led the quartet with Francesco Ciniglio on drums, Alex Wintz on guitar and Lucas Pino on tenor sax.
My first time finally meeting Lucas after seeing him around quite a bit, he first introduced himself as a photographer and then revealed that he is a pathological liar. Well, at least he is honest. Look out for his Thanksgiving album release—it’s sure to give Charlie Brown’s Holiday Hits a run for its money.
When you pull back the curtain under the restrooms sign, you’ll notice a 2 to 1 ratio of women’s to men’s bathrooms, with the women’s rooms on either side of the men’s in the center. A large hand sanitizer dispenser and a payphone furnish the dimly lit area. The storage for paper towels, cleaning supplies and such is located in a closet inside the women’s room on the left side. The women’s toilets are situated lower than usual so be aware if you sit instead of squat that the drop is greater than you’d expect.
Dave volunteered to be the men’s room correspondent and took photos of the men’s room for us. Watch out KMac, your “friend” is trying to steal your gig.
On this merry day, I’d like to give a shout-out to my friend Tierney for her sweet gift, a book of photos of bathroom signs from various countries with indoor plumbing. I received another book from my sister: The Birth and Death of the Cool by our favorite historian Ted Gioia, who deemed JAZZ TOILET the worst of hundreds of jazz blogs. I may take up my sister’s suggestion and do a book review in the new year.
Pianist Nial Djuliarso, who sat in on a few tunes, tells us how to say, “Where’s the restroom?” in Indonesian –
Fat Cat
Posted: December 11, 2012 Filed under: Greenwich Village | Tags: TUESDAY TOILET TALK Comments Off on Fat CatIt seems like people are always going to Fat Cat to hang out. Right off the Christopher St./Sheridan Sq. station, the place is bustling with people inside and out on the sidewalk. Upon entering, you’ll flash your ID and pay a small cover in exchange for a wristband and a Fat Cat stamp, which may stain your hand for days after.
There were too many people for my liking and I tried my best to not get jabbed by anyone playing pool, as I strained to carry on conversations with friends in the spacious basement space abuzz with everyone’s chatter. It wasn’t so bad once we were able to get a ping-pong table in one of the netted areas off to the side.
The band added to the noise and quite frankly, it made little difference who played what. Though there was a small attentive crowd on the couches surrounding the performance area, the majority was much more interested in playing games like chess, scrabble, shuffleboard and imbibing great amounts of beer. Likely because of that last interest, the place had large and clearly marked restroom signs in prominent places.
And while it wasn’t my kind of scene, I was glad to be there to celebrate a college buddy’s birthday. Many move out here from California for graduate school or work and I’ve a number of good friends from both undergrad and high school out here now. In densely populated Manhattan, I’ve randomly run into familiar faces from home quite a few times, passing by someone and thinking a moment later, “Hey, that’s the girl from rhetoric class freshmen year.”
The women’s restroom maintained the seedy dive feel of the rest of the place. The toilet in one of the two stalls was leaking slightly and there was a bit of graffiti on the wall, which surprisingly, I haven’t seen in the other clubs. I tried to get a peek into the men’s room but didn’t have a chance, as guys kept going in and out. In fact, in hovering near the restrooms, I noticed that the men’s room often had a line, maybe even more than the women’s did.
Other than the nightlife activities, Fat Cat offers other services, from chess to music lessons. Growing up, my dad, sister and I used to play ping-pong on the piano bench to determine who would have to do the dishes; I could take ping-pong lessons and show them up this Christmas.
Wojtek from Poland tells us how to say, “Where’s the restroom?” in Polish —