Feeling an extra pep in my step than I normally do on a Monday night, I walked over to Pussycat Lounge to give my ears a little lovin'. Stepping into the joint, I was shocked to find a bartender studying behind the counter and a couple of dudes on bar stools discussing the health care overhaul as the Bernard Wright Trio performed their sound check. I felt rude disrupting the drumbeat of quiet by asking for a beer and felt it necessary to apologize within the same sentence. Totally bizarre. I had obviously entered The Greenville Avenue Twighlight Zone where over the top club like establishments turn into easy going, intellectual and cultured hang outs every Monday night.
I tip toed to a table next to the stage. The Bernard Wright Trio began.
The music is slow, trance-inducing, and emotionally charged. Bernard sits behind an electric keyboard, eyes squeezed shut with a closed smile on his face. His fingers gently attack the keys. The bassist is just as thoughtful with every deviously low pick that seems to narrate the entirety of the show. The drummer, undoubtedly a rhythm savant, was where my eyes were glued. The trio has the ability to shift from the catchiest twists to the most delicate turns. Everyone in the bar was baited by the beat.
Walking home, the passionate music accompanied my gait and my dreams were all in jazz.
In the words of the great and late Bo Diddley, "You can't judge a book by lookin' at the cover".
