Le Poisson Rouge
Posted: May 21, 2013 Filed under: Greenwich Village | Tags: TUESDAY TOILET TALK Comments Off on Le Poisson RougeAs I stood in line to enter Le Poisson Rouge (LPR), I wondered when I’ll be of the age where the bouncer only cards me to be polite. As the proverbial saying goes, time flies and I haven’t really started checking out the contemporary classical/new music scene in the city nearly a year into my resolution. To encourage myself to do so, I signed up for membership at LPR, a venue that presents the best in a range of creative music, including jazz and the avant-garde. A newly minted member, I was able to catch Rudresh Mahanthappa’s ensemble Gamak free of the cover charge and feel official holding my gray membership card with a red fish on it.
Though I hadn’t heard the saxophonist live before, I was already a fan of his incredible intensity and facility from listening on Myspace years ago. This was a high-energy music, complete with fist pounding between Rudresh Mahanthappa and guitarist David Fiuczynski and a lot of sweat from bassist François Moutin. The moppy-haired bassist had to constantly dry his head with a big towel and shook his head so much that I wondered if he felt dizzy or was losing brain cells.
Drummer Dan Weiss followed suit and had a towel around his neck by the last piece, perspiring from the abundant solos where he played the trap set more like a frame drum or tablas. The guitarist switched between two double-neck electrics to play microtonal solos also invoking a world of influences. The monstrous-looking guitars took some getting used to, even for a person easily excited by the sight of mutant strawberries.
A large venue with exposed pipes and vents overhead, Le Poisson Rouge has sizable restrooms to match its performance space. Past the photo booth and the big, cushy, grungy-looking chairs, you’ll find the women’s room to your left and the men’s room straight ahead. The women’s restroom has seven stalls, two hand dryers and a long sink with two faucets. I preferred to use the faucet on the right with trickling water rather than the faucet on the left where I ended up splashing water all over.
The dim lighting proved a bit problematic as I had to take photos on my little video camera. I did chant my mantra, “Zoom, cam, Ken®” as always to remind myself to bring my Zoom to record audio, camera to take photos and Ken® to model by the toilets but grabbed the wrong camera on my way out. I must have been just out of it that day because I also got to LPR an hour early, thinking the show started at a different time than it did .
Jovana from Serbia tells us how to say, “Where’s the restroom?” in Serbian —
ZirZamin
Posted: April 9, 2013 Filed under: Greenwich Village | Tags: TUESDAY TOILET TALK Comments Off on ZirZaminI walked in as The Bridge Trio announced their next tune, “125th and Broadway,” where I had just come from, a bit flustered that the trains weren’t running on schedule yet again. Though I was on the fence about attending, I was sold once I learned that ZirZamin served breakfast tacos all night.
The place must be self-service at the bar, because nobody came to take my order at the table. I didn’t feel hungry enough to get up to order the breakfast tacos so it ended up being an eggless Easter, but an enjoyable one nonetheless. The entertaining trio bantered, took requests and made the audience feel at ease. They played tunes with both curious and obvious titles, which bassist Max Moran and keyboardist Conun Pappas took turns introducing.
Joe Dyson, who had been placidly providing rock solid beats behind the kit, ran up to the mic in the blink of an eye and went on a tirade about how he would introduce the tunes too, if only he had a microphone. I was in pleasant disbelief—it was like seeing a formerly fat person rip through the life-size poster of the before photo. And if hearing the drummer talk wasn’t surprise enough, Joe even sang a song about salty dogs to close the set.
Hailing from the same high school in New Orleans, the members of The Bridge Trio have played together as one unit and together as sidemen with mentors from their hometown. It’s great that they have the opportunity to be nurtured by mentors in a city with such legacy and tradition in an era where jazz is becoming increasingly institutionalized and mentorship on the bandstand, a rarity.
To your left before you enter the back music room, you will see two unmarked narrow black doors to the unisex restrooms. The smallest freestanding restrooms I’ve observed thus far, I got a core-strengthening workout twisting my body into unusual positions to take photos in the claustrophobic space. Watch out for the steps when you go through the double curtains to the back; I tripped both times in the dim lighting.
Though the venue acknowledges that it can’t be all things to all people, it presents an unclear identity in seemingly trying, with a menu offering Austin-inspired fare, the tagline “subterranean music parlour” using British spelling, and the name ZirZamin meaning underground in Farsi. Samira from Iran tells us how to say, “Excuse me, where is the restroom?” in Farsi –
The Kitano
Posted: March 12, 2013 Filed under: Midtown East | Tags: TUESDAY TOILET TALK 1 Comment »The wide, ample rear of the dog statue greets you as walk down the stairs from the restrooms back to the jazz lounge inside the hotel. Once you re-enter the room on the other side of the glass wall, you may notice the Jazz at Kitano sign. I thought the logo looked like a treble clef choking the letter J but Jon Rag, one of the saxophonists that night, thought it was suggestive of something else. For a venue uninterested in our review, The Kitano has made some interesting design choices. A large abstract painting also hung over the bar—I don’t even want to know what that’s about.
A couple weeks ago, I caught the final night of pianist Angelo Di Loreto’s month-long Tuesday residency at The Kitano. He played duo with three saxophonists, executing virtuosic lines and rhythmic harmonies with his signature heavy-handed touch reflective of his solid, grounded character.
Likewise, saxophonist Pat Carroll’s alto revealed his introspective and soft-spoken nature in its transparent and ephemeral tone. Jonathan Ragonese’s tenor was as robust and commanding as his outspoken personality and flavorful cooking. I don’t know the third saxophonist Dan Wilkins as well but I imagine that his personality mirrors the rich tenor with just the right amount of bite to the sound.
Isn’t it amazing that three people playing the same instrument can sound so different? The individuality of each was even more apparent paired with the same pianist back to back in the same room.
And it’s a nice room with a high ceiling that lets the music and conversations rise and fill the space. The verticality compensates for the cramped floor space in which the waiter will tell you to push in your chair each time he walks by. The lighting is pleasant and the company is sharply suited, many of them likely businessmen staying at the hotel.
The restrooms marked ladies and gentlemen are of typical hotel standards, with the thick quality paper towels. The ladies space consists of a sitting room and a bathroom with two stalls.
If you want to know more about Angelo’s residency, you can read an article by our own men’s room correspondent KMac in the February issue of Hot House, the ubiquitous and self-proclaimed “New York’s Jazz BIBLE For 30 Years!” And now, Nurgul from Kazakhstan tells us how to say, “Where’s the restroom?” in Kazakh –
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?” –