Digging the Accents

Go to two stellar shows, one cool, one hot and you will meet charming, handsome men from other countries. I know this only because I went and I did.

Starting at the VMFA for the Jazz Cafe, I found a nearly full room and no available tables, which wasn't the least bit surprising because the Brian Jones Quartet was playing. As many times as I've seen Jones play and in as many configurations as I've seen, he never ceases to impress.

Tonight's stellar show was courtesy of Jones on drums, J.C. Kuhl on tenor sax, Daniel Clarke on keys and Randall Pharr on upright bass.

I love watching these guys play; Pharr is always smiling, unlike a lot of oh-so serious bass players, Clarke's delight is tangible and they tend to crack up when one or the other of them goes off on a particularly colorful improvisation.

I propped myself up on a wall near the band, but it wasn't long before a nearby couple offered me one of the spare chairs at their table. They also invited the guy standing next to me but he bowed out saying, "I can't. I'm holding up the wall." Not sure, but I think he was afraid I'd bite.

My new-found seat afforded me a close-up view of the band, who whipped through a varied repertoire, including Sonny Rollins, Miles Davis' "Blue in Green," the classic "Bye, Bye, Blackbird" and the surprising "Eleanor Rigby."

Jones came over to say hello during one of the breaks and I commented that in all the times I've seen him play, this was the first time I'd seen him in a button-down shirt. "I can clean up," he laughed. And well, I might add, admiring his all-black ensemble.

They did three sets for the devoted crowd. When the bewitching hour of 9:00 rolled around, Jones said, "We're going to play one more. Not sure what it's going to be, though."

By the time they finished, the museum was closed and the security people couldn't usher us out quickly enough.

It was a short drive to Balliceaux for No BS Brass Band's show and I mercifully arrived before the hordes. Taking up a seat at the front bar, I ordered the chai-infused chocolate pate and a Zin blend and settled in to discuss the bartender's recent visit to DC and Zatinya.

As the No BS musicians began to straggle in, I was about to move my headquarters to the back room when I felt a tap on the shoulder and my favorite Brazilian chef appeared.

In all the years I've known him, I've never once run into him out at night, so I couldn't have been more surprised...or pleased with the company.

He asked what I was drinking, ordered two more and we began a spirited discussion of going out versus staying in. Eventually his lovely wife arrived, followed closely by all kinds of interesting friends to whom she introduced me.

I met a scientist-type from Colombia, a Spaniard recently relocated from NYC and a host of other characters, almost all of whom had recently read my piece in Style. It was an interesting starting point for conversation with strangers.

In what seemed to be almost a violation of fire code, people continued to arrive and I quickly realized how lucky I was to be ensconced on a bar stool and off the beaten path.

The people around me were constant targets for the moving crowds, being jostled and knocked into at every turn.

One thing that soon became apparent was how many of the attendees were first-timers. I heard an awful lot of people say, "I heard these shows are amazing" or "These guys are supposed to be great" as they made their way to the back room.

By the time No BS finally started playing, I knew there was no way I was going to join the masses in the back room, much as I would have liked a view of the band playing.

More than a few people I knew tried it, only to come back shaking their heads in amazement at the sheer mass of humanity sweating back there. One guy came back glistening with sweat and saying, "I need water!"

I didn't even try. I had a host of interesting conversationalists to choose from; a guy told me about his non-fiction writing classes, another about his acclimation to RVA, one had just opened an online store, a photographer wanted to buy me a drink, and another told me about the light shows he designs for his drumming friend. I chatted with three different restaurant owners. All compelling enough discussions to justify staying put.

The down side was that it wasn't always easy to hear the No BS show, but since the stairs were packed with people, there wasn't much I could do about it. Luckily I periodically got an earful, so I didn't feel like I was missing out completely.

Besides, the party (and it was a party) going on up front was amazing; lots of smart people, witty conversation, mingling and requests for my card. I went for music and got social intercourse.

No complaints from this camp.