A small door (excuse the pun) on West 10th Street in the heart in Greenwich Village is the gateway to the dark world known as Smalls Jazz Club. Well below street level, it epitomizes everything you would associate with the New York Jazz scene. Small and intimate, gloomily shabby, but perfect in every sense and fit for purpose.
From the deeply nicotine stained wood and the randomly scattered pieces of frayed carpet, to the fine array of mismatched old chairs assembled like they are waiting to be made into firewood. Smalls has a certain unrepentant style that compliments its artisan crowd.
The bar is warmly inviting and glows along the main wall. The opposite side has all the illumination of an alcoholic black hole, so if anonymity is what you seek with your bourbon, find a seat here in the shadows and disappear. I am quite sure that had this place been going in Byron Rufus Newton’s day he would have been an inspired regular
But it is the music that people come for and a sense of being a part of something more modern bohemia than corporate baroque. There is a real edge to Smalls Jazz Club and long may it stay sharp and vibrant.