Hypnotised in the Zinc Bar.

Many years ago, when I was 17, I went to New York with a large group of friends.  We went in February and it was freezing cold and I can remember walking around the city feeling as if I was walking in a movie set.  The skyscrapers loomed over me.  Steam rose from manhole covers.  Taxi drivers yelled out belligerent abuse if you dared to try to cross the road when they were driving past.  The Statue of Liberty, Empire State Building, World Trade Centre, Central Park and Times Square all felt familiar as I toured around to view them.  The city felt vibrant and alive and it was perfect for a trip away with my friends.

Our flight out was early in the morning and I remember not sleeping well the night before.  We arrived during the day in New York and hit the streets rights away.  I had already been awake for over 24 hours by this point, but didn’t feel too tired.  We had a meal out and then a few us went to a Jazz bar in Greenwich Village called the Zinc Bar.  We were going to see a guitarist called Ron Affif who I had heard great things about and I was looking forward to the night.  It was late when we arrived, around 10pm, but the music was yet to start so we had a drink and waited.

I remember sitting in a booth watching all the cool cats of New York talking and having a drink and I soaked up the atmosphere.  The ceilings were low and it was dark in there, but it didn’t feel seedy in anyway, just cosy and undeniably cool.   I was starting to flag by this point, but hung on for the music.  I had been awake for a long time by now and I fell jet lagged, tired from all the walking, tired from lack of sleep and exhilarated from the excitement of being in New York and anticipation of the music on offer.  A heady and disorientating combination. 

The door to the bar swung open and the musicians entered, along with a blast of cold Manhattan air.  Everyone looked up and the bar chattered and then quietened down again.  I sat up and thought the night was about to get started, but instead the band headed towards the bar, sat down and had a few drinks.

After a while Ron and his band mates headed towards the tiny stage area, which was more like the corner of the bar.  I was sat right next to this area and watched avidly as they set up.  They double bass player tuned up, as did Ron and the drummer hit a few testing beats and tightened a few knobs on his drum kit.  Then without so much as a ‘hello’ the band started playing and everyone was transfixed.

The music was raw and compelling from the word go.  The drumming was intense and the guitar riffs Ron pulled of soared up and down the fretboard.  I was still absolutely shattered by this time, but it was amazing to watch such skill at such close quarters.  That is where things got a bit weird for me.

The drummer was a big intense black guy who sat at his kit like it was a child’s toy.  He stared around the audience with laser like focus and his look was hypnotic and electric.  I was feeling fuzzy from lack of sleep and the music washing over me and when the drummer turned his gaze upon me it felt very powerful.  He just stared into my eyes as he frantically played some sublime jazz and the experience was full-on and formidable.  I couldn’t look away and it honestly felt as though he was hypnotising me.  When he finally looked away I felt wrung out and exhausted, but managed to stay until the end of their first set and part of the way into their second.

We finally staggered out of the bar after 2 in the morning and hailed a cab to take us back to our hotel.  I recall looking out of the window up at the skyscrapers and feeling shell shocked and yet strangely exhilarated.  It had certainly been a unique evening and a powerful introduction to this fast flowing and addictive city that has stayed with me ever since.  I have yet to return to New York, but when I do I will be making a bee line for the Zinc Bar.  The experience may not be quite the same, but I can always go along and hope.