Last night, for the price of one cheap drink, I watched an old-school jazz combo (as in John Coltrane quartet-style) work it out in the corner at Barca on Capitol Hill.

I had passed by Barca (1510 11th Ave.) earlier this summer and heard the 60s jazz sax spilling out onto the street, but I didn't go in.

Last night, I did.

Great scene from the start. A very pretty young woman saw me looking for a good seat and invited me to share her table. (How often does that happen? Um, never.)  And the Clark Gibson Trio (they added a trumpet as they got deeper into their Lydian-chromatic-concept-of-tonal-organization-for-improv set) was serious, dig? (Even the busy waitress seemed to be in a good mood as she scrambled from table to table.)

The music was so on (and the conversation about local politics too), that I stayed for several songs even after the woman's boyfriend showed up.
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