Gerry Gibbs (drums); Randy Brecker (trumpet); Gary Bartz (alto sax); Cyrus Chestnut (piano); Buster Williams (bass)
There
are jazz clubs you visit to hear music, and there are jazz clubs you visit
because somehow you feel you ought to have been there at least once in your
life.
Birdland
is most definitely the latter.
It
had already been following me around New York. Weather Report’s Birdland
was on the playlist I had put together before the trip, and the club’s name had
appeared countless times on albums and in the stories of musicians I had
listened to for years.
Then
suddenly there I was, Brooklyn beer in hand, surrounded by photographs of the
people who had helped create the music in the first place.
There
was an immediate familiarity about it. For anyone who spends as much time at
Ronnie Scott’s as I do, Birdland feels like a New York relative. Different
city, different history, but very much the same spirit. Tables gathered around
a small stage, subdued lighting, conversations dropping away as the musicians
prepare to play and those wonderful photographs on the walls reminding you that
plenty of remarkable people have occupied these rooms before you.
And
Birdland certainly has history.