This 'n That 'n Bill Caldwell

I didn’t know Bill Caldwell personally, but I knew his music. I loved it.

His saxophone immediately commanded your attention, then lifted you from your seat and carried you on a joyous, swinging ride. Don’t believe me? Listen to Bill’s solos on I’m Getting Sentimental Over You on 1993’s The Real Thing with Everette DeVan. A smile will break out on your face. I dare you to try to stop it. You can’t.

Back in my days of helping to organize jazz festivals, Bill was one of the hot young saxophonists in Kansas City. He moved to Branson to play in orchestras there for 14 years, and most recently taught in Wichita. But when he returned to KC and I had a chance to hear him play, I heard wonderful jazz.

Bill died of an apparent heart attack last week. He was 49 years young.

Here’s another test. Same CD, The Real Thing. Listen to Bill’s solo on It Could Happen to You. I dare you not to smile. Can’t suppress it, can you? The music is just too happy.

*****

I was talking to a friend last week, at The Blue Room. We used to run into each other regularly at Jardine’s .

Where do you go now, she asked. Take Five, in Leawood, is a favorite, I replied. She hadn’t been there. There was jazz last week at Nica’s on Southwest Boulevard, I noted. She knew about that but missed it. Well, there was a set at The Brick a week or two back. Or how about Mark Lowrey’s Tuesdays at Czar Bar? And there’s that place at 135th and Quivira.

We both sighed. It used to be so much easier to find jazz in Kansas City.

The last time I wrote about the loss of Jardine’s as a jazz club, some bemoaned they had read quite enough about the place. I understand the sentiment. The internet has been rife with speculation. And there’s plenty of outstanding jazz musicians in town who rarely played the joint.

But there’s plenty of outstanding jazz musicians in town who did play there. And the Jardine’s loss has impacted the local jazz scene more than I expected.

A couple of months ago, KCUR’s Sunday program KC Currents ran an excellent story on the state of Kanas City jazz (here). Our friend Plastic Sax quite presciently said in the story that, in light of the Jardine’s closing, it’s going to be more difficult and take more work to find jazz in Kansas City. I snorted a “harummph” at his crazed words.

But he was right.

Yes, The Blue Room is as vibrant as ever. Jazz fans are re-discovering The Majestic. Take Five is filling a suburban void. The Mutual Musicians Foundation remains a one-of-a-kind jazz experience on weekend late nights.

But none of those places showcase combos six or seven nights a week. And The Blue Room and The Majestic, while broadening their offerings, generally offer their regulars, just as Jardine’s did. The diversity another jazz club brought to the Kansas City jazz scene is now scattered throughout town.

Since early on in this blog, I’ve hand-slapped clubs for making their schedules difficult to uncover. Nobody wants to work to find their fun. Jazz schedules need to be delivered to our virtual doorstep. Jardine’s excelled at such promotion. But concise scheduling becomes impossible when acts are scattered one here, one there, from 119th Street to the Crossroads.

My friend and I co-commiserated at The Blue Room. We miss the second weekend shows, which started at 10:30 and ran to 1:30 in the morning. We miss a central spot where a select group of Kansas City jazz favorites could be found. I can’t speak from the musicians’ perspective, but from the fans’ perspective, there’s a hole in the Kansas City jazz community.

I didn’t expect that.

*****

So what are the odds of another jazz club filling the Jardine’s space? After all, it’s a location of proven jazz success. And now you can get in there by working directly with the property owners, American Century, without needing to buy the previous business.

But for now, there is a reason to approach the previous owner. Not for the Jardine’s name. The equity in that has substantially dissipated. Rather, for the 3 a.m. license on the space.

A 3 a.m. license can be a financial gold mine for a club. And outside of the downtown loop, today they are nearly impossible to come by in Kansas City. A space just off the Country Club Plaza with such a license holds exceptional appeal. Word is, the last owner is asking $20,000 for the business including the license. Is it worth that much? Without running the numbers a business plan requires, I don’t know.

But if it is, it is worth that much to more than just a jazz club. It’s worth it to a hip-hop club. It’s worth it to a country music club. If it’s worth that much, it’s worth it to anyone wanting to own a nightclub.

The only limitation is who American Century will allow as their neighbor.

The World is Ending. No Band-Aid Required.

11th Annual Jazz Lovers Pub Crawl screams the poster dominating one wall of my office. It was 1992, and listed across the bottom of that poster are thirty-one clubs. That’s right. That night in 1992 thirty-one night clubs throughout Kansas City featured live jazz.

Wow. You mean to tell me that in 1992 I could have gone to thirty-one different places in Kansas City and heard jazz? And today there’s what, two clubs? Three? There you go, case closed, jazz is dead.

Wait a minute. I said that one night – one night – for the Pub Crawl, thirty-one clubs showcased jazz.

The Pub Crawl then was sponsored by the Kansas City Jazz Commission. I served as chairman of the Jazz Commission between 1987 and 1989. I was responsible for a couple of crawls. And club owners told me that the Pub Crawl – buses taking listeners and drinkers from one jazz night spot to the next – was so big that, when it happened, they were forced to book jazz and be on the crawl or nobody would come to their bar.

I don’t recall any of those club owners concluding their tale with, “Thank you for making me book jazz. I’ll do it again.”

So, how many clubs are on the Jazz Commission’s Jazz Lovers Pub Crawl today?

Jazz Commission? Jazz Lovers Pub Crawl?

A couple weeks back our friend Plastic Sax surveyed Kansas City jazz club calendars for March (here). He determined that, at best, 61% of the jazz club bookings were actually some form of jazz. “If this trend continues” he wrote, “– and there's no reason to believe that it won’t – jazz will eventually become a secondary consideration in these rooms.”

There you go, case closed, the end of the jazz world as we know it.

Wait a minute. I’ve heard this refrain.

Last year, a friend, a local musician who plays several clubs around town, bemoaned Jardine’s booking cabaret shows on Monday nights. Cabaret moves in and takes over a club, this friend railed. Soon there will be no jazz at Jardine’s.

A year or so later, what I don’t see on Jardine’s latest schedule is cabaret shows.

In fact, on the day I wrote this, I surveyed the April schedules of Jardine’s and The Blue Room. The schedules were not yet complete, but on this day included 44 acts so far set for the month. Under my big tent, 42 of them count as a variation of jazz.

March, apparently, had less jazz in the jazz clubs. April seems headed towards more. An off month doesn’t constitute a world-ending trend. There’s more to consider.

Patrons may turn out once or twice for something quirky or different. But how often will they return if the overall experience is flawed? Ignore The Blue Room for the moment. Since my post about Jardine’s in January (here), several people have mentioned they would go there more often (or at all) if it was a better restaurant. Maybe the music isn’t the issue. Maybe the question is whether the restaurant could thrive without the jazz.

I’m seeing more restaurants and clubs around town sampling jazz, from West Chase Grill in Leawood to bars in the Crossroads district. Some of that is attributable to musicians hustling for work. But maybe, just maybe, some of it is also attributable to the audience seeking out new venues to hear jazz.

Times evolve. Today there’s no Jazz Commission. Today you couldn’t convince thirty-one clubs to devote a night to jazz in Kansas City. You could argue that proves jazz is dead. But it would be another false argument. The Jazz Commission developed a successful, well-marketed event, a one night mini-festival staged in buses and clubs, which drew a significant following of twenty- and thirty-somethings.

Even in 1992, most clubs participated not to support jazz, but as a stunt for a night of business (the principal support for jazz came from the $15,000+ profit the Jazz Commission – at least during my years as chairman – turned on the event). How else to explain, among those thirty-one clubs, participants like Fuzzy's South Sports Bar and Grill (yes, they were on the 1992 crawl)?

Today’s audience for jazz, clearly, is not the size it was then. But the audience is there. Cabaret hasn’t usurped the jazz world. If jazz clubs sometimes book nights of quirk, not jazz, maybe it’s because they need modern stunts to, at least for a night, overcome other perceptions.

Jazz has seen healthier days. That’s not a revelation. But spectacular musicians and a devoted audience seeking new opportunities keep it alive. Jazz is not trending towards second-tier status in Kansas City’s jazz clubs.

Plastic Sax opened his post with, “This is going to hurt a little bit.” He concluded it with, “Would you like a Band-Aid?”

Nope.

Scenes From a Jazz Club

• Last September, and the performance was spectacular. The singer hit every note with perfection and the rhythm section, feeling something unique, drove the music hard, with emotion. The audience that night, in that often noisy club, sat rapt and listened, quiet except for applause.

Sometimes when you sit down in this jazz club, the night is magical.

• Next month in that club, I went to hear a sax player, back in town to perform with his old pals. The music clicked, swinging and fun.

This night, I ordered dinner. As usual, I asked for a double order of green beans instead of potatoes (for diabetes control). The server came back and said the kitchen was short of green beans and could only serve a single order. Fine, I said, then just leave off the potatoes. The server said the kitchen told her that it was too busy to prepare special orders and I could just pick off the potatoes.

I looked around and counted 53 customers in the club who might order dinner. A restaurant with a posted capacity of 115 was overwhelmed by preparing perhaps 53 dinners?

I could have had a more personalized meal at McDonald’s.

• I remember a summer night, a Saturday, in the same club. The show started about 10:30. The room was packed, bodies wall to wall. The only available seat was at the bar. People talked, and here the sound system rarely overcomes the chatter. But this night the singer’s voice and choice of songs – it was a different singer – quieted just enough people and grabbed just enough attention to be heard. More people listened, and the performers increasingly commanded the space. Midway through the first set, the musicians owned the room.

This isn’t something you find every night in this club, but when it happens and jazz overtakes the cacophony of talk, you experience the definition of a jazz club.

• It was the last Wednesday of last year in the same club. I don’t usually make reservations, though I regularly walk in to table signs which read “Reserved.” But this time I planned to use a coupon, so when I was in the club on Monday night, for another show, I made a reservation for Wednesday. I watched the hostess write it in the reservation book.

I arrived on Wednesday on time, ready to order flat iron steak. The club was filled. I looked for a table with a “Reserved” card on it, like I always saw for people who made reservations. There was one. But that one, the hostess explained, was reserved for someone else. Well, I had a reservation, too. The hostess proceeded to clear a table right by the front door, a table covered with flowers and papers and junk. She wanted me to sit a few feet from a constantly opening door on the last Wednesday of December in Kansas City? I wasn’t going to enjoy flat iron steak – or anything – sitting there.

I could eat at the bar, she offered. No, I made a reservation for a table. I could point to it in the reservation book. There should be a table with a “Reserved” sign waiting, just like that other table with a sign is waiting for somebody else. If a spot opened up, the hostess offered, she would seat me.

I sat at the bar, angry. An hour later, apparently no spot having opened (or ignored because I looked angry), I left, hungry and mad. When I arrived home, I stuck a Banquet frozen dinner in the microwave. It wasn’t flat iron steak.

The club is Jardine’s, arguably Kansas City’s premiere jazz club. Music at The Blue Room is just as wonderful (and sometimes better), but The Blue Room is open less often and doesn’t serve food. The Majestic has better food, but only a pianist until Thursdays, and then usually just small, unobtrusive combos. The Phoenix offers cheaper but inferior food (extraordinarily bland, in my experience) and seems undecided on whether it’s a jazz club or a blues bar. At R Bar you’ll find vastly superior (albeit higher priced) dinners and a superior sound system, but only occasional jazz.

If you want good and varied jazz with fine drinks and/or a decent meal, most nights in Kansas City, Jardine’s is the choice.

But it’s not the choice because you always like it. Often you do. Often you hear magnificent jazz by Kansas City’s outstanding musicians. Go there enough, and you will experience nights of magic.

But go there enough and you will experience nights when you would have been better off with a CD and a Whopper.

Jardine’s is the choice by default.

And that’s frustrating. A gaping hole floats over Kansas City’s jazz scene, asking to be filled by a club where you can expect consistently – consistency is key here – fine food, good drinks, excellent service, all tightly managed.

I keep hoping that Jardine’s will tighten into that place. But nights like the last Wednesday of 2010 leave me wondering if it will ever be Kansas City’s premiere jazz club for more reason than there just isn’t anyplace better.

Then I have a night like this:

• The group is one of my favorites. I’ve written about them before. Two saxophonists started playing. They’re outstanding. A guest bassist was sitting in, a former Kansas Citian. His solos are spectacular, even better than when he lived here. He was driving the pianist, whose playing I always enjoy, to greater solos. This is a tight group at their best. Nobody heard better live jazz than I heard that Monday night.

It was so good, I decided to return Wednesday. I made a reservation and watched the hostess write it in the book. On Wednesday, I thought, I'd try the flat iron steak.

In Lieu of 1000 Words: Megan Birdsall & Hermon Mehari

I’ve pictured these two before, but not together.

Singer Megan Birdsall was this blog’s first, albeit brief, photo layout. Hermon Mehari is trumpeter in Diverse (and a bunch of other groups around town). Last month at Megan’s regular last-Wednesday-of-the-month gig at Jardine’s, Hermon and sax man Steve Lambert unexpectedly dropped by and sat in on the last set. They further propelled that impulsive spontaneity already blazing through so much of Megan’s music. The best jazz, to my ears, is live jazz embracing the unexpected. Especially when it's live jazz by musicians this outstanding.

Here’s what it looked like (with no slight to Steve, whose horn was equally terrific...I just happened to capture more shots of Hermon that night). Clicking on a photo should open a larger version of it.

Left to right: Paul Smith, piano, Steve Lambert, sax, Megan Birdsall, vocals, Hermon Mehari, trumpet, Bob Bowman, bass, Tim Cambron, drums

 

Megan and Paul

  

Hermon Mehari

  

Megan Birdsall

  

Paul, Megan, Hemon, Bob and Tim

 

Megan

  

The boys

  

More Megan and Paul

In Lieu of 1000 Words: Last Wednesday at Jardine's

Today, I’ll mostly shut up. After an explanation of what we’ve got here.

My hobby is photography. But I’ve rarely taken a camera into clubs because I don’t carry a pocketable camera (I have one, and it and I don’t seem to like each other), and I’ve avoided walking in while sporting a hefty hip pack strapped to my considerable waist. Recently, though, I overcame the fear of looking like a freak (or, some might say, like more of a freak than usual), and nabbed a few shots of one of KC’s terrific young singers, Megan Birdsall, and her terrific group in performance.

So, here’s a visual sense of last Wednesday, the day before Thanksgiving, 2009, at Jardine’s (clicking on a photo should bring up a larger version of it):

Megan lovin’ Paul Smith’s piano solo while Bob Bowman plays bass. The drummer was out ill this night.

Megan Birdsall sings. In black and white, she looks like quite the chanteuse.

Bassist Bob Bowman, while Megan enjoys his solo on the group’s outstanding interpretation of Fire and Rain. We were all enjoying it.

The group in performance.

Megan singing some more. Can’t get enough of that voice.