"He's the one with the respirator."
I chuckled quietly at what I thought was the South African waiter's funny English. Was he calling the old man's instrument a respirator? Then I looked more closely and I saw the plastic tubes running into the singer's nostrils...
***
Mr Johnson is this old gentleman whose spirit for jazz is far stronger than his failing lungs. He'd bellow out a couple of songs then he'd have to stop and catch his breath. After his set, I started shouting "more!" but my companion told me not to ask for more because he might over-exert himself! He was taking deep breaths and a doctor from the audience went up to ask him if he was alright.
After a 15 minute break, he was back on stage but the piano solos were noticeably longer than his singing. Lots of soul in the performance and I'd definitely be back.
The food is expensive and of average quality. During that night I went, patrons had to order a two-course meal which was a bummer for me because I did not feel like having a big dinner. If you decline, you'd have to sit way behind by the bar where you won't have a view of the band.
Rating:





Four pawikan points. Skip the dinner and come here for the jazz and drinks. I've heard that on some days (Sunday night?), they clear all the tables and replace it with comfy lounging chairs. I can imagine myself sipping an Amarula (with crushed ice) while listening to some excellent jazz.
You shout for "more" at every joint it seems!
ReplyDeleteI can imagine sipping an Amarula too. In fact, I don't have to imagine no MORE! :-)