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?” –
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 –