There was something very poetic about that glass of wine. He had one on the stage and I too had one sat at my table at the front. There was a bottle next to mine. We were both making a statement. We were both also enjoying ourselves hugely. He hardly touched this glass but I made steady inroads into mine. He had a job to do. Mine was to listen to him. Drinking the wine was part of it.
The wine was not top notch vintage but that wasn’t part of the fun factor so it didn’t matter. The music was incredible. Django Rheinhart meets New Orleans. Nobody spoke during the show. It would have been an insult and none of us wanted to miss a single note. We all clapped and cheered at the right moments and at the end of it all members of the band clearly appreciated the support. People play jazz for the kicks.
Afterwards we I stayed to talk to him. Joe bought a CD and got all four autographs. Reach out, reach up and go.
Django a la Creole, Lincoln Drill Hall, Friday 4th June.