Roy Hargrove and his band were in Portland playing a gig at one of the bigger venues in town back in the '90s. But everyone knew the real shit was happening at Seafood Mama's, a jazz club on 21st Ave.
A storm had moved in and the entire neighborhood lost power just as Hargrove brought his players in for some after-hours cutting.
I was there--I lived around the corner--and a few others were in play for some late cocktails and jazz.
We lit candles. Young Hargrove, who was just coming into his worldly place, played his horn. His electric bass player thumped out lines without amplification.
The snare-and-cymbals kit his drummer brought in sounded fine.
What they produced by candlelight in a big storm was truly remarkable. Intimacy might be the best word for it.
That cold, stormy night in Portland many years ago in an after-hours venue is one of my favorite memories of a glorious time.
TS
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