Frank W.
Yelp
I write to praise SF Jazz with the utmost enthusiasm, maximally effusive. I am merely an audience member. I claim no expertise. I only know what I like. This is my favorite establishment for jazz. (There are terrific restaurants nearby as well.)
I listen to jazz often though. In New York City, where I live, I patronized Jazz Standard until it closed, saddening many. That was my preferred venue in the city, because it boasted great performers (the Mingus band, for example, the official ensemble in many forms, authorized by his widow), offered good food from the upstairs BBQ joint, and was spacious as its rivals were not. I have since been to Birdland many times, and that as regular as I am. I also am familiar with Blue Note and Village Vanguard and Mezzrow and Smalls, etc.
But SF Jazz is on another scale. The only comparison that would be appropriate is Jazz at Lincoln Center. Both of these present themselves quite differently from a club. They are posh. They are more of an upscale locale for folks who have dressed up. The contemporary design is humane and feels intimate despite what is a vast expanse for syncopated sound.
The auditorium is comfortable. My wife and I have seen at least a half dozen shows there. I recommend it without hesitation. My wife knows jazz much more than I do, and she has shared her love of the genre. I have to say a part of me feels funny here, as if the design is more akin to the nearby symphony hall and opera house than the ad hoc spaces where I usually take in live music. That is not a criticism but perhaps a backhanded compliment. The music can be just as raucous as elsewhere. The setting should not mislead you; this is emphatically not some sort of antiseptic corporate bland nothingness.
I reserve my most lavish praise for the Joe Henderson Lab. On the first floor, this glass enclosed general admission square defies expectations, at least mine. I sometimes berate myself for my stupidity. The first time I walked into this room, I thought, well, how is this going to work: you can see all the pedestrians and traffic and goings on along the sidewalk and on the street, and that will just distract so much from the performance as to mar it irreparably. I am glad to be proven wrong. It is the opposite: the life that is passing by and every now and then engaging with the musicians (pantomime, as in air guitar, or leering) is fine and provides a visual backdrop, dynamic to the point of chaotic, and perfect in unpredictability as an accompaniment to what you are listening to. Jazz does not need to be enlivened (well, I listened to a Scandinavian group that gave meaning to soporific, and I was entranced; that was the exception), but the movement outside the floor to ceiling windows is exhilarating, observations of the random which appeals to the voyeur residing in the recesses of our souls.
We were there last night with neighbors. (My wife resides in San Francisco.) We heard Pasquale Grasso. He was solo. I had come across him as an accompanist to Samara Joy. I had the luck to see her before her double Grammy wins, when it was still possible to obtain a ticket. Grasso is prodigious, formidable, modest, and entertaining in his own right. At SF Jazz, he had just the showcase for his talent.
