David S.
Yelp
It's a few years since my last visit to Scats. This trip started late, but the place has a cool vibe that's almost irresistible. The neon catches your eye at the entrance to a dark, empty alleyway. It's a bit creepy, yet fun as you face an elevator door and await your ride beneath the pavement (the homeless drug addict would camp out later for folk exiting the place.)
Below street level, the doors opened into the blackness of candle light and the deafening assault of Red Young & friends blasting from a sound system that's out of control. The girls at the front say something unintelligible as I look for my interpreter. I pay the cover charge only to find we're now on the waiting list. Ears aching and vision beginning to adjust to the dark, it's SRO with nowhere to S and 100+ people in a play of either acting cool because that's what you do in a jazz club or being clearly upset that wait staff are unable to keep up with the crowd. Some 15 minutes in and folk trickle out to see if they've suffered any permanent hearing loss. The band hadn't gotten any better but, with no offer of bar service and hands over our ears we remain hopeful something will be worth the cover charge.
After being seated it was another 15 minutes before we walked to a floor supervisor to beg for table service. Fast-forward through a band that finally found it's groove early in the next set (only to lose it again in the wreckage of the sound system) a martini squeezed from the chaos of an overworked bar is drained and we agree the night is lost and no longer worth even the cover.
Yes, your mileage may vary and Fort Worth really isn't known as a jazz haven, so our odds were less than a crap shoot. This was a stupid visit that was both physically painful, medically questionable, and unnecessarily frustrating. Back up to the air and even the requisite addict had arrived at street level to follow us to the next corner. Just...sad. We'd waited too long before scatting out.
