Last night I met up with my friend Piero outside the Venice Jazz Club, near Campo San Barnaba. He made me close my eyes, and then he led me through the rather awkward doors. “Surprise!” he said. “Now you are in New York!”
The nightclub has these big columns in it, and industrial pipes on the ceiling, very not Venetian, more like a NY underground club. (I don’t know much about NY underground clubs, but Piero is a jazz aficionado who spent some time in NY jazz clubs, and he vouches for the similarities).
We sat down, got drinks, and were catching up on news and exchanging gifts, when the band started up. We were chatting a bit when a big guy two tables over barked, “Shut the eff up!” I’ve never known of a nightclub where you couldn’t talk while the band played. Maybe where he comes from that’s how they do it. A couple got up to dance, which is rather awkward to John Coltrane and Miles Davis, but they were definitely more pleasant and amusing than Mr. Barker.
The photos are suitably fuzzy and out of focus, as befits a nightclub. Flash just won’t do. No pictures of the band while they played. I thought I might be drawn and quartered by Mr. Barker if I tried.