Dallas Texas was delightful. The contagious reference to ‘ya’ll’ is certainly stereotypical for good reason and southern hospitality abounds like an old romance novel. After ordering a veggie burger inexplicably listed on the menu as ‘The Neil Young’ from a a blue jeans and black t-shirt clad cowboy hipster at the famed “Rodeo Goat Burger Bar’ across from our compound-sized hotel, this Texas town was sure to provide some culture unique to these Spring-time flower bearing prairies expanding to the horizon and beyond. Day one proved to be a success, despite the only breakfast in town served past 10:30 being Denny’s.
The nightlife seemed newly charged, and the locals all agreed that “things have got better over the last two years” and the Main Street District of downtown has been resurrected as the entertainment and restaurant hub with beautifully restored heritage buildings suited to the youngsters spilling out into the weekend evening, illuminated by softly glowing street lamps pulsing to various DJ music emanating from everywhere.
The next day we took in the obligatory yet engaging homage to JFK and replayed in our minds thanks to helpful maps and chilling epitaph descriptions of how and when the 35th President was assassinated. Through tin-can loudspeakers, various conspiracy theorists postulated their views as reverent American citizens and class field trips paid respects where the highways converged and a fateful shot was fired from the sixth floor of a nearby building. It was a great opportunity for American History appreciation and people watching.
After bucket loads of Doctor stuff and wading through cutaneous laser conference topics, we finally had the chance to escape the blue suits and the shoe polish and seek out what Dallas had to offer in terms of live, local music. Apparently, a Blues jam happens every Saturday at ‘The Free Man Cajun Cafe’ on Commerce Street, so that’s where we uber’ed off to after the sun went down. We arrived to a cold beer, deep-fried alligator, dyed black hair, septum piercings and the Savoy Swing Band. The service was attentive, the wooden panelled decor simple and comfortable, and the shallow stage set up for hassle-free music. It reminded me of a classic biker bar, with New Orleans-style jazz. The band performed a sampling of swing standards and later some pop cover tunes complete with an amiable singer and grumpy trumpet player. Some folks got up to dance, and we chatted with the locals about the live music scene.
When it was time for the Blues jam to start, the Savoy gang packed up while a couple of long-haired young blues boys looking like twins sauntered in, complete with a couple of female friends with thick dark make-up decorating their eyes and form fitting short skirts. We took a breath and realized that this was probably not going to be what our ears were hoping to absorb and yes they were far louder than they needed to be, but they played well- arranged, properly rehearsed, original blues music for the first set. Too loud and heavy for our taste, but well played and refreshingly focused. They turned out to be competent players, but after the last Gator bite was consumed we bolted for the door to give our poor eardrums a break from the decibel levels.
“Go check out The Balcony,” the bass player from the Savoy Swing Band insisted as we peeked into ‘Adair’s Saloon,’ the country pub next door, “if ya’ll are into jazz, that’s where you’ll hear the best players in the city, and it’s a really small place with the nicest people you’ve ever met.”
I was slightly disappointed that our Uber arrived so soon, as I was keen to stay and watch the fiddler and banjo player backed by a traditional country bluegrass band enticing the two steppers at Adair’s, but the allure of great jazz was calling and Dr. B had his horn in tow, so it was time to move on.
“You tell then Mark Wilson sent you, they know me, they’ll let you play with them.” he repeated as we headed on our way, thankful for his advice and look forward to our next adventure.
I wondered if we were in the right place when we were dropped off in a quiet, suburban area of the city sprinkled with dull streetlights and a glowing neon sign announcing the historic Lakewood Theatre. A small staircase to the right of the theatre’s main entrance led up to a mysterious patio on the second floor of an old wooden building with red lights spelling out, ‘The Balcony.’ We climbed the narrow steps to a smiling couple enjoying a cigarette and a cold beer outside the door where the jazz harmonies from an accomplished piano player blended with a stand-up bass and saxophone. Walking into the small narrow boudoir -inspired black and red room beautifully organized like a miniature jazz cabaret breathing an authentic vintage atmosphere felt comfortable and relaxing. we settled into the tall, ancient wooden bar stools, ordered a local brew and soaked up the local talent.
Hunched over an electric piano was an old fellow with a white beard and baseball hat bringing to life the genius of Thelonius Monk, combined with Oscar Peterson and others. A stand-up bass leaned against the tall frame of an obviously first-call player who’s fingers nimbly danced up and down the ebony neck with alarming agility and precision. Although not all saxophone players should be as confident as they sometimes are, the gentleman playing alto and soprano had all his notes in a row, winding beautiful, bold, improvised melodies through the rhythm kept together by a smiling kid wearing skinny jeans and a floral shirt sitting behind a set of drums.
The songs sounded like variations of other tunes we knew, or thought we heard before and misplaced the name. It wasn’t until the band took their last break of the evening that we learned the arrangements were mostly original, composed by Dave Zoller the respected and well-loved piano player who barely walked with two canes due to a stroke that nearly took his life many years ago, but didn’t strip his ability to play his instrument.
“I came down from Ohio with my late wife, to break into the music business in the late sixties,” he began while sipping on Kahlua with milk on the rocks. “It took me about three years and everyone thought I was crazy for doing it, but before long I was writing jingles for just about everyone in town. Sometimes I’d get the call the night before to write for a session that was happening early next morning.
“How did you manage that?” I queried, while regular patrons stopped to shake his hand and pat him on the back.
“I’d stay up all night drafting the sections required for session and pass them off as soon as I could. Couldn’t stop to think about it, just did it. That’s the way we worked back then.
He introduced us to the rest of the band including Jonathon Fisher the band leader, and bass player extraordinaire who teaches several instruments to many students at his studio and performs almost nightly in the Dallas scene with various combos. We asked if Dr. B could have the honor of playing a tune with them, and the rest is history.
