As a teenager I went through intensive etiquette training.  I studied deportment and manners.  I was schooled in elegance and posture.  I learned how to properly fold my napkin across my lap at supper.  I learned how to sit with feet crossed delicately at the ankles.  I learned how to speak.  I learned how to walk—glide, rather.  I even learned things like order of precedence (a fancy way of setting the table according to one’s rank).  I can throw large dinner parties.  I can wrap gifts.  I know how to write thank-you notes.  I even know how to smile and nod when someone says something I disagree with.  I also learned other useless things like flower pressing and paper folding—these old school activities of young ladies of dignity and quality. 

The training was intricate but very useful.  Someone once remarked that I am now qualified for embassy work, but I like to brag that I could properly entertain the Queen of England with all the necessary protocol.  I’m grateful to have jumped through such hoops in addition to my basic education.  It’s made me a more well-rounded person.  Of course, the Army undid a lot of that training because I still swear like a sailor and pass gas without a thought.  At any rate, what I’m trying to tell you is that I know which fork to use when dining in an upscale restaurant.  I’m not a backwards corn-fed hillbilly scooping my peas off my knife with my elbows on the table. 

This weekend, my friends and I took ourselves out for a lavish outing in New York.  We glammed around in limousines, dropped $400 on a VIP section and shopped like there were no bills to pay.  It was all for my friend’s 25^th birthday extravaganza.  For her luxe dinner, we ate at Smith & Wollensky’s Grill.  It’s a rather nice restaurant serving top quality steaks and chops, perhaps on the same scale or better as Ruth’s Chris Steakhouse.  Just so you know it ain’t TGIFriday’s.

We arrived to the restaurant in a limousine, not necessarily out of showboating purposes, but of necessity because there were eight of us and we couldn’t fit in a cab and who would take the subway dressed to the nines in cocktail dresses and high heels? 

While waiting for our table to be set, we lounged at the bar and I noticed that we were getting some very obvious stares from other patrons.  My friend Ceciley really killed it in her bright red cocktail dress and stiletto pumps.  She’s a makeup artist so her makeup was exquisite.  She is a confident black woman in charge of herself and it is very obvious that she could really care less about what others think of her.  These two white women were really in her face.  I think they were impressed but didn’t want to admit it.  They were foreign, but I couldn’t hear them entirely so I’m not sure where they were from.

They had other looks for the rest of the party.  Derisive, condescending looks were thrown at certain women in the group, probably because of the way they were dressed.  I’m not here to bash anybody’s mode of attire because I feel that people are going to wear what they want to wear, but it was disappointing to be looked at like we just came up from the fields for our evening rations.

I noticed almost immediately that we were the only black people—check that, people of colour in the entire restaurant.  There were two Asian women, but they were the white American type of Asian, not Chung Lee Asian.  I would imagine their names were something like Victoria Lee and Nancy Kwan.  That’s usually how it works.  There weren’t any black people, no Hispanics, no dark-skinned Eastern Europeans, damn sure no Middle Eastern folk. 

Not only was the crowd white, but they were like Grand Ole Party, old money, silver spoon in the mouth, daddy sails in the Saint Bart’s regatta every year, while mommy goes to the spa in Switzerland type of white.  I bet all their forefathers came over on the Mayflower and the rest of their ancestors fought with William the Conqueror in 1066.  That’s how white they were.

A group of yuppies at the table next to us kept staring.  Alan Greenspan (hahah) sat behind us and I think he needed an exorcist because his head turned a full 360 every five minutes so he could gawk at this group of black women out for a night of cabernet sauvignon and lamb chops. 

I’ve written before that I’m always embarrassed to be seen in a large group of black people because I’m always painfully aware of how I’m perceived.  Despite years of etiquette schooling, who could tell in such a large group.  Why do I care that these toffee-nosed bigots think poorly of me?  Why do I even stress?

Maybe because it makes me depressed to think that after all these years, here we are in the grand year of 2009, and people still can’t get over the fact that some black people really have earned their place in society.  We could afford our meal.  We would not have sat down to dine if we had any thought that we would not be able to settle the $700 bill that showed up five minutes after our desserts.  Most of us knew the difference between a ribeye and filet mignon.  Ceciley, our wine connoisseur, knew that red wine went best with steaks.  Most of us are sophisticated.  Damn it, I know which fork to use.  I know where to put my bread knife.  I know how to hold a Bordeaux glass. 

I felt like the waiter thought it was somehow beneath him to wait on black women.  His manner was, of course, professional, but he was very curt as if he had something better to do, like pick the lint from his belly button. 

I think it’s important how we present ourselves to society.  I’m always very conscious of presentation.  I believe that we should be who we want to be, but we must be prepared for the consequences.  If you want to look backwards and urban, by all means, please do so, but you will never fit in white society.  Some of us say to ourselves that we shouldn’t have to “fit in,” and perhaps you might be right, but unfortunately, the world is the way the world is.  If it’s going to change, we have to perpetuate that change.  Instead of setting ourselves apart, we need to step in and take over.  By this I mean we should assimilate and take on their characteristics and then make it our own. 

Many black people dub this “crossing over,” “selling out,” or whatever else other term, but I don’t see it that way at all.  If I want to eat in Smith & Wollenksy’s every night of the week, I could, but I don’t the Talbots and the Mulroneys staring at me like I’m one of the Browns (from Meet the Browns.)  As long as I can pay the bill, I have the right to be there just as anybody else, but what a lot of black people don’t seem to understand is that we don’t represent ourselves as if we could be high class.

Even if we were white skinned, we wouldn’t be acceptable because it’s our manner and presentation.  That is the point I’m trying to make.

I might as well come right out and say it: I am not decisive. At all. So pretty please, help me make up my mind!

Here’s the deal. A girlfriend of mine from high school is getting married in April. Though we did not stay as close through college, she recently asked me to be a bridesmaid sent a text message announcing I would be a bridesmaid. Oh, and, even though her sister is the MOH, she lives in the Middle East with her husband, so I need to do all of the MOH duties. And one last thing. The three other bridesmaids probably won’t help very much (and so far, so true, since no one’s bothered to reply to my THREE emails), so it will mostly be just me. SWEET.

So tonight was my first opportunity to do something helpful for my bride. She thinks she wants us to get our dresses from Alfred Angelo, but she doesn’t have an AA store or licensed retailer in the college town where she lives. So I very gladly went to try on dresses tonight so we could get an idea of quality and styles.

My bride happens to be completely apathetic about the particulars of the dresses we choose, so we can pick whatever style ( as long as it’s cocktail length) that we fancy. But I advised her that, since her sister will wear silver, then the four of us regular bridesmaids should not look totally random, but rather cohesive. So perhaps we should all wear a satin dress of a different style, or two satin dresses of one style and two of another style, or two wear chiffon and two wear satin, etc. She likes this idea, but wants me to pick whatever dress I want to wear and then she’ll pick her pattern from that. THAT IS A LOT OF PRESSURE! And I feel like it’s a decision complicated by the fact that I can’t really imagine the dresses in her color, which (dear god) happens to be the color of her alma-mater, aka my school’s oldest rival. I’ve tried changing the color of the dresses on AA’s website, but the color, claret, looks totally different on the screen as it does in person. Without farther ado, the color:

Horrendous for a breezy spring (outdoor) wedding in April, don't you think?

So, my lovely bloggy friends, please help me pick a dress! The prices were all pretty similar, between $129 and $149. Since I don’t have a clear-cut favorite, I thought I might just pick the least expensive. The problem is, I can’t remember which is the cheapest. I think the green satin one, but I’ll have to call back and ask. I think the blue and green chiffon one might have cost the most, but I can’t help but wonder if it might be worth a little more? So without further ado, here are my three favorite:

Chiffon, I'd do the sash in the same color as the dress.

Like this, but does it look 80s to you?

I like the bust, but it doesn't do much for my waist

Looking at them again, I feel like the first looks most “bridesmaid-y,” in a good way, while the others look more like party dresses. Usually the party dress look would be great so I could rewear it, but I seriously doubt I will ever wear a maroon dress again (willingly), so don’t take re-wearability into account.

And for giggles, here are some other options that I liked less:

Ok, be honest! Which dress should I order???

Me: “You shouldn’t smoke that. What if they drug test you?”

Pizza-Bagel: “They don’t drug test us! We’re lawyers! We’re high society! They know we do drugs!”

–

“Word, Holmes.”

”My name is Gus Bailey… It should be pointed out that it is a regular feature of my life that people whisper things in my ear, very private things, about themselves or others. I have always understood the art of listening.” —Gus Bailey, from Too Much Money, the final roman à clef by the Excellent Dominick Dunne. Available December 15, 2009.

”"The only person writing about high society from inside the aquarium." —Tina Brown

The team from Upstairs At The Gatehouse

IT was well worth making a fuss about the 3,000th performance due to be held at Upstairs At The Gatehouse on Sunday. We got a front page picture and this little feature here.

There is a lot of ropey fringe theatre out there but you are rarely disappointed when you step through the doors up there. Few duff shows slip through. I went there in my first week at the CNJ back in 2002 to review the Christmas musical, A Slice Of Saturday Night, and have kept going back since. Managers John and Katie Plews have done a great job, so here’s to another 3,000 shows – and this year’s Christmas musical: High Society.

Scene 23

DE OPLOSSING VOOR DE ECONOMISCHE MALAISE

Gerard staat op het gebouw van FedEx, hij twijfelt over de sprong. Dan komt Fabienne aangespoed.

F:       Gerard wat ben je van plan?

G:         Mijn leven is voorbij, mijn dagen zijn geteld, Suzanne gister, ik vandaag.

F:       O nee Gerard maar je kan nog zoveel betekenen voor de wereld, doe het toch niet. Je bent nog zo jong, zo gezond, zo vitaal.

G:       Dat was Suzanne ook. Nu zij er niet meer is heb ik geen baas meer, hoe kan ik zo doorgaan?

F:       Je hebt een break out nodig, eventjes geen werk. Met het gezin naar Centreparks, of een weekendje Slagharen.

G:       De bedrijfsarts raadde mij Slagharen aan, hoe wist je dat?

Reclamestem:

Ja! Een weekendje Slagharen voor het hele gezin. Eventjes weg uit de benarde thuissituatie of de ellende op het werk. Rustig pannenkoeken eten of een tocht op een heuse kameel. Is dat niet wonderlijk? Voor maar vierentachtig euro een hele midweek, inclusief. Bestel nu beste medemens want op is op.

Gerard kijkt op, ziet de tekst voorbij zoeven en krijgt

een blij gezicht. “ja!” zegt hij. “Slagharen is wat ik wil, pret voor het hele gezin!” Gerard omhelst Fabienne en kijkt de toekomst tegemoet.

Scene 24

Gerard zit in de trein, zijn hele gezin is met hem.

Het nichtje van 9 dat hij vorig jaar verkrachtte zit schuin tegenover hem. Het was een bloedige verkrachting, bloedig vergrijp. Maar hij had spijt en gaf haar laatst een doos Merci.

Reclamestem: Ja, ja! Een doos Merci. Heb je iets goed te maken? Een doos Merci volstaat. Oude familieruzies? Exen? Overspel? Alles komt goed met een doos Merci!

hello world,
we the hedonist nihilists – against this self-satisfied vulgarity world of pop, pop that caters to the lowest common denominator, against the fucking corny trash and vulgar cliches, the philistines in all their phases, the imitations of imitations – we, hereby convene and form the poshlost high society. the world is a mess, but we have sex, drugs, techno music and literature for consolation! and thats enough!

Ricardo Villalobos – Dexter

This Chilean producer-cum-German resident-cum-fabric club resident dj has been called innovator, iconoclast, mover/shaker of the edm & idm world blah blah blah. He can play thump club music as well as austere soundscapes that tickle the brain. Nico Jaar’s source of inspiration. We’d like to see him at fabric one day.

Ricard Villalobos – Les Enfants (Gabry Ponty and Paki Remix)

My favorite remix of Les Enfant I’ve heard on youtube, po-moemu better than the original. Why, I get a pleasant seizure @1:52.

Some Ner do Well would love to start this post off with the coy little hook….

“It all started innocently enough with a little TV series called Desperate Housewives TM.  and then reality TV decided to throw in their two cents worth,  and now  TV in America hasn’t been the same since.”  Well I beg to differ,  It started long before then with a little series called Married with children.   You remember the one that had the male lounge singer crooning in the background to circus theme music to the somewhat righteous sounding lyrics that were in polar opposition to the moral standards (or lack thereof ) on the show.
Love and Marriage, Love and Marriage,
Go together like a horse and carriage,
This I tell ya brother, you can’t have one without the other.

Love and Marriage, Love and Marriage,
It’s an institute you can’t disparage,
Ask the local gentry, and they will say is element’ry.

Try, try, try to separate them, it’s an illusion.
Try, try, try and you will only come to this conclusion.

Love and Marriage, Love and Marriage,
Go together like a horse and carriage,
Dad was told by mother you can’t have one, you can’t have none,
You can’t have one without the other.

The show featured Al the husband who saw his wife as a mattress with a hole in it at times, and a simple chore to be dealt with by going to work and bringing home the bacon,  which she promptly was shown spending on her ridiculous beehive hair or stupid hooker wardrobe.   Peggy the wife/housewife barely had time to properly raise her kids who made sure to be the best at being the worst kids in America.  Their daughter was pretty much a slut and both parents knew it, and seemed to think it was funny because she was dumb and blond.  Their son was full of untapped potential which suited them just fine, they had no plans on pulling his potential out of him as they lacked basic education themselves.  This show stayed on the air for years because it was supposedly funny,  Al with his bathroom humor, and his hand down the front of his pants seemed to be the formula that worked for over a decade. The shows writers and producers went out of their way to do a hatchet job on every thing that represented anything that was wholesome and good about the American family.  Even sitting around the dinner table became a punch line.  Years later along comes Desperate Housewives.  Now I know some of you are thinking, ” what about the soaps  they didn’t exactly help out with things as far as family and relationships go?”  As a matter of fact,  they threw gas on the fire of some marriages that were going up in flames.   Some women got so caught up in the Guiding Light that they actually needed therapy when they thought Reba had died,  ( I guess that was her name) hey I’m not a fan,  I just remember hearing my Aunts talk about it and laughing when I realized these weren’t real people.  Soooo Anyway  Desperate Housewives and the garden tools of Wisteria lane (I didn’t want to say Hoes),   suddenly became more popular than sleeping, eating, and breathing in some households.   Reality TV executives felt they could do one better by finding real women, with real problems instead of these fake ladies with all of this drama and the fake lines.    So along come the silly Housewife reality series.  Drumroll please…..

Here they are folks in no particular order (like that matters)

The Real Housewives of Orange County

The Real Housewives of New Jersey

The Real Housewives of Atlanta

The Real Housewives of  New York City

Before I sat down  to write this critique, I thought long and hard about what I would say,  and it didn’t take long because, I had a mountain of anecdotes and reams of video to glean from.   It was all so embarrassing,  these women all seemed to start out innocent and some even had a platform of sorts,  kinda (I guess).  I don’t know what the heck they were hawking, some where selling clothing lines,  some were out there talking about domestic violence,  Ne Ne from Atlanta was even featured at a Conference at a Mega church (whom the pastor of  needs to be fired immediately).   I can’t imagine what a pastor could have allowed that trouble maker to tell his sheep that he couldn’t tell  them himself.   I saw  some supposedly  high class,  high society, women fighting in classy restaurants,  flipping tables,  pulling weave,  yelling in public,  dating married men in front of their children (behind their back is no better either).    This left me asking myself.  ” Is this what we have turned into?”  “Are we so desperate to be entertained that we will look at this vomit”,  and apparently it has enough of an audience because it just keeps coming back.  I saw the most non-singinest least talented woman in the world take 3rd place in the I-tunes universe with the silliest song on the planet….”Don’t be tardy for the party  (blech).  Without the publicity of the show this one hit wonder would have been a No Hit Ever!  I did my research I kept a vomit bag handy as I watched the DVR’d episodes of public humiliation to the Nth degree.  These women will have to ask a judge for an injunction to have these episodes sealed till the end of time so their grandchildren won’t suffer undue humiliation,  in the event these women decide to  come out of their stupidity comas and stop filming.  I noticed that one person appeared and disappeared and that was a lady from last season in Atlanta’s housewives,  she was shown going to church a lot.  She must have seen herself in contrast to her appearance in church and was pricked by the Holy Spirit to make a choice of whom she would serve,  God or Mammon,  ( at least I hope that is what happened).    I only really watched the last few episodes and the reunion and I DVR’d the last few of this season and a few of the other housewive shows.  was enough for me to write a critique/post on what I see as a poison going into the homes of many ready to take down many a marriage.  If you need to lose weight watch this stuff,   Instant Bulimia,  your food wont’ stay down!!!!!   Man and Woman of God Guard your heart and mind don’t let this mess into your house and more importantly your marriage!

By the way as far as these shows being so Real,  check out the credits on some of them and notice how you will see a Story editor,  whenever you see that,  you can pretty much guarantee the drama is scripted, and what you see is a bunch of mess, but the damage spiritually and mentally are the same.  Turn the one eyed demon off .   The TV has done enough damage,  don’t let that stupid little box come between you and God and you and your spouse and family.

Peace, Agape

~Anointed

Had a sudden urge and craving to buy CDs, so I splurged out on 3CDs yesterday!

I’ve been looking for the full MIKA album for a while, but the price is a little off putting. Managed to get 3CDs for the price of $49.90 – Buble’s Crazy Love, Olstead’s skylark and High Society’s The Ten Tenors.

Totally awesome, I think I might have bored the boyfriend to tears when I was excitedly listening to the various High Society albums at Raffles City yesterday. Oops. Teehee.

Right off to do more work! Assignments due on Tuesday, and then after that we’re almost done – just one more presentation, one more individual report and one more group report left!

So I’ve been meaning to post these but was wayyyy too lazy. But TCM has a movie fest called ‘The Summer Under the Stars’ and they created modernized classic movie posters that are pretty neat looking. Enjoy.

Late last month I found myself in Newport, RI, to be a spectator for the sailing competition. As we drove past one mansion after another on the elegant Bellevue Avenue or as we walked Newport’s treasured Cliffwalk (the next two images below), above the rocky coast, history and the present moments seemed to merge.

Here was the playground of the richest people on the planet more than one hundred years ago. Yes, those were the days.

The names of these magnificent mansions, like The Breakers (above), Belcourt Castle (next two below),

…Rough Point, and Rosecliff may conjure images of elegant soirées, grand ballrooms, and sit-down, black-tie dinners for nearly 200 people. Here is a 2nd picture of The Breakers.

For most of us, me included, events on this grand scale are nearly unimaginable. Yet, to the people that lived in these homes before they were given outright, or sold to the Preservation Society of Newport for mere pennies on the dollars, they were ’summer cottages’.

Just to give you an idea, The Breakers was built for Cornelius Vanderbilt II. You may have heard of this family. They owned a huge international shipping company before forming the New York Central Railroad.

This opulent summer shack, consisting of 70 rooms, was only half the size of their home in Manhattan, at 1, West 57th Street. The Breakers will take your breath away, but the city home was destroyed by fire many decades ago.

Doris Duke inherited Rough Point (above) when she was only 13 years old. Her father, James Buchanan Duke, amassed a fortune beyond belief by founding The American Tobacco Company, which later became The British Tobacco Company, which later became the parent company of Brown & Williamson, the manufacturer of such American cigarette brands as Kool, Pall Mall, Lucky Strike, and Tareyton.

Here are a couple of images of a pair of the ‘lesser’ homes. First is The Elms. This might be a side-door. And following that is a longer shot so you can see all of it.

Next is the Ochre Court (below) which is now a part of Regina Salve College. Just think of the how much the electric bill might be.

Rosecliff (above) was modeled after the Grand Trianon, the garden retreat of French kings at Versailles. This stunning mansion was commissioned by Theresa Fair Oelrichs, the heir to the Nevada Comstock silver lode, one of the richest silver finds in history.

Rosecliff is now preserved through the generosity of its last private owners, Mr And Mrs J Edgar Monroe, of New Orleans. They gave the house, its furnishings, and an endowment to the Preservation Society in 1971.

If you can’t get to Newport, then you might want to check out Rosecliff in the movies. Scenes from several films have been shot on location at Rosecliff, including High Society and The Great Gatsby.

Or we can dream about voluptuous women with their own kind of opulence, the kind of ‘trophy’ women that no doubt had the good fortune to find themselves in Newport, Rhode Island, for a July 4th weekend on the arms of various captains of industry, robber barons, or other assorted millionaires, and the hangers-on that hobnobbed with the real life Vanderbilts and Dukes, or their fictional counterparts like Jay Gatsby.

Song writer Cole Porter penned these memorable lyrics for a duet in High Society between Frank Sinatra & Celeste Holm called Who Wants to Be a Millionaire?

Who wants to be a millionaire? I don’t.

Have flashy flunkeys everywhere? I don’t.

Who wants the bother of a country estate? A country estate is something I’d hate!

Who wants to wallow in champagne? I don’t.

Who wants a supersonic plane? I don’t.

Who wants a marble swimming pool too? I don’t.

And I don’t `cause all I want is you.

You and I will never experience waking up at The Breakers on the 4th of July, or dancing under the stars at Rosecliff or Rough Point. We won’t be donning our tennis whites before breakfasting, or meeting for cocktails on the verandah of one of these fabulous mansions overlooking the ocean, but we can dream about that kind of life.

So for inspiration, or to pad out your dreams, until you do become a millionaire, you may visit my website free of charge anytime you like. There are no tour guides whatsoever, and our doors are always open.

By Rory Reynolds

RESIDENTS in one of Scotland’s plushest areas have been awaking to find their polished brass door plates have been stolen by thieves.

A recent spate of raids on the cappuccino avenues of the Edinburgh’s New Town district have led to police launching an investigation to track down the thieves.

It is thought they are cashing-in on the rising cost of scrap metal and stripping the plates to sell.

Two people have already been arrested and charged in connection with one robbery on Iona Street – but three other incidents are currently still under investigation.

Peter Verity, 65, who lives in Scotland Street – famed for its setting for Alexander McCall Smith’s series of high-society novels – had his brass kick plate stolen during the night.The retired architect said it was unsettling to think that thieves were roaming the streets of the city armed with screwdrivers.

Screwdrivers

He said: “It had been screwdrivered off during the night and taken away – some of the screws were even left nearby on the ground.

“I can only see it’s of minor benefit to the people stealing them, but it’s a major nuisance to us.”

“Our street is pleasant and relatively quiet – the thought of meeting a thief at the front door with a screwdriver in his hand is certainly not a nice thought.

“I have noticed quite a few gaps on doors recently where it is obvious brass kick plates should be, but are not.

“It doesn’t look good and ultimately costs us all money to replace them.”

Peter said that he was quoted up to £150 for a replacement brass plate, presenting thieves with a lucrative opportunity to make a quick buck.

Value

A spokeswoman for scrap metal processor Bernard Hunter said: “The value of the brass will be determined by its weight – we offer around £600 per tonne.

“The police were in touch to let us know what had been happening. The brass will probably be quite old and therefore good quality.”

Local councillor Maggie Chapman said: “I have been told about this from many different people, all concerned about the thefts.”

A spokesman for Lothian and Borders Police confirmed that three incidents involving missing brass plates are currently under investigation, while two people have been arrested in connection with a robbery on Iona Street on 4 August.

The thefts are the latest in a recent spate of precious metal thefts.

Huge

Last September thieves risked death to steal a signalling cable from a railway network in the Lothians, while in June last year two huge bronze propellers from the Royal Yacht Britannia were taken from a warehouse in Leith.

The propellers were 7ft each and would have been heavy lifting gear to remove from the premises.

In May last year, 10 grates and a manhole cover were stolen in Bathgate, while 40 drain covers were lifted from the streets of Portobello.

See more of our pictures at our Flickr site and videos at our dedicated channel,  Deadline TV.

Want a great excuse to dress extravagantly and have a great time on Halloween this year?  Consider yourself invited to the blow-out double event at the Costa Rica Sims …

Bring a friend, or two, or three to our Halloween Masquerade Ball / October Rezz Day Celebration!  While our theme is “Phantom of the Opera,” you can wear anything formal (and a mask), so now’s the time to show off your favorite high-goth gown or suit as  you party in grand style.

Put it on your calender! Don’t miss it!

DAN BARRETT’S EAST COAST TOUR (Part Three)

This installment in the Barrett Chronicles 2009 takes us to what was once called Roth’s Westside Steakhouse (Columbus Avenue at 93rd Street in Manhattan) on October 16, 2009. 

The fun and frolic began with a series of duets between Dan and Ehud Asherie.  Roth’s gets high marks for encouraging jazz, but it is a typical restaurant: dishes and silverware crash, the bar patrons were especially excited by some sports event on television, and there is a good deal of loud oblivious chatter.  On the other hand, Roth’s is the only jazz event I’ve ever attended where the governor of my home state — in this case David Patterson — came in late in the evening.  Whether he was in the groove or merely addressing his dinner I was too preoccupied to notice, but if he missed out on the music he missed something special.

Not incidentally, I’ve been admiring Dan’s recorded work since 1987, and have seen him live a number of times (with Becky Kilgore and Rossano Sportiello, at Jazz at Chautauqua, and at a series of concerts put on by Joe Boughton, where his colleagues included Vince Giordano, Duke Heitger, and Kevin Dorn) . . . as well as an early-Eighties Newport in New York tribute to Billie Holiday directed by Ruby Braff.  But this gig and his appearance at Smalls have given me an even greater admiration of Dan’s creativity, because no one else was in the way.  I was reminded often of hearing Vic Dickenson play — with Mike Burgevin and Jimmy Andrews — in 1974.  The same swing, the same full understanding of what this music is all about.  But on to the videos!

Here are Dan and Ehud caressing THAT OLD FEELING, a ballad everyone knows but few jazzmen actually play.  Who could be insensitive to the beauty of Dan’s pure sound?  And Ehud accompanies him perfectly — then launches into his own ruminations, which embody the whole history of swinging jazz piano, delicate and pointed at once:

And a Barrett original (his lines have the same bounce as his solos), WITH’EM, which will reveal its roots in a flash.  At first, when I didn’t recognize the line, I thought it was something written by Don Byas or Johnny Hodges, evidence of its authentic pedigree:

Another fine neglected Forties tune (courtesy of the Ink Spots) at a jaunty tempo, without recitative, IF I DIDN’T CARE.  The crowd was getting a bit more noisy, but I didn’t care:

And a slow-motion DON’T GET AROUND MUCH ANYMORE, its mournful tempo getting at the loss that is at the heart of the lyrics,  Savor Dan’s lovely opening cadenza, a composition on its own (while the dishes clatter):

Who else would have the musical wisdom to offer up IF YOU WERE THE ONLY GIRL IN THE WORLD, a fine song to improvise on:

And (for me) the piece de resistance — a genuine Hollywood-style jam session.  Lovers of jazz on film will know what I mean.  The model comes from the 1947 film THE FABULOUS DORSEYS, where the scene begins with the briefest clip of Art Tatum playing in a club . . . we know this because there’s a sign outside saying so.  Then, as if by magic, a whole host of jazzmen appear — their horns at the ready — as if from nowhere.  No one has to warm up, adjust a reed, or use the facilities: they just spring into action.  Well, it happened at Roth’s.  Attillo Troiano was there with his clarinet, to the left; Jon-Erik Kellso rose from his dinner, ready for action, and Luigi Grasso, seated to the right, just happened to have his alto saxophone with him.  And someone called HIGH SOCIETY — which resulted in what Dan, at the end, said was “really jazzy,” and then started to laugh.  It has the wonderful swagger of the Blue Note Jazzmen, transported to the Upper West Side, with all the strains in place, everyone knowing the right melodies and countermelodies. 

It was a privilege to be there, and I don’t write these words casually.  I won’t forget this evening!