Rus Nerwich

As if orchestrated by the divine conductor himself I walked down Boulevard Bonne Nouvelle  at a little before 11.00 on the night of the  10th of  of July, absolutely and completely exhausted, I had arrived in Paris at 4.30 pm, I was on my way to Spain and had stopped over for the night to see my dear friends David and Kristen, as well as meet the owner of a bar called ‘La Pomme de eve.”So after meeting with Prof Derek Lubner and his esteemed wife Janet and enjoying a scrumptious dinner, we headed briefly over to their hotel, I cant quite remember why, but there I was convinced to accept as a gift a pair of white hotel slippers, not wanting to be rude, I popped the slippers under my white and almost porno jacket and made my way to find the closest taxi. Dave and Kristen were having a party at their apartment, Having assured them I would join there party and be as quick as possible, I was already in breach of the generally accepted modus of behaviour when staying in the home of someone who is accommodating you, so I walked briskly toward Republique the area close to where they live.

Having only slept for 3 hours the night before and having spent the day on train after  train, I was the kind of tired where dribbling in public becomes a imminent possibility. The kind of tired that brings on a nausea and hallucinations that are usually only  induced by strains of mushrooms  you mom never puts in your school sandwiches!I needed sleep and I needed it bad, I walked for another 5 minutes, there was a distinct shortage of taxis, n with a sweater, jacket and pack of slippers inside my jacket I was starting to sweat, not nice, having showered last in London the night before, I was beginning to find discomfort in my own company!N then I heard it, the wailing sound of a saxophone, the mysterious resonance of a vibraphone, the cool strut of a solid walking bass line and the pting ting ting of a drum that’s swinging, mmmm, a band, I continued for another couple of large Nerwich strides, n came to a place called Au Petit Duc, I walked inside and awkwardly positioned myself at the bar. Feeling very light headed and with a packet of slippers tucked into the inside of my jacket, I looked like a slim version of the marshmallow man that nearly took out the great Bill Murray in the early 90’s. There I stood, first priority, coffee, don’t dribble in public! After the coffee arrived getting rid of the friggin slippers was next on my agenda! How do you pull a pair of  white slippers out of your jacket in a packed and quite sophisticated bar,  without looking like some kind of crack addict on the run! Its tricky, so with Zen like execution, I whipped them out from under my jacket and dropped them under the! bar.Disposing of them induced  a relief I can only compare to the moment I realised  I wasn’t going to be incarcerated for my little misdemeanour at the Atlanta airport a few years ago.Now that I was trippin on caffeine and no longer sweating like a cabbage in a glad bag I could enjoy the music, it was not long before my head was bobbin and my feet were tappin, infectious is the only way I can describe it, not like the herpes, but as life changing, or so they say!I stayed for the rest of the set, and by the end of it, could think of nothing more exciting than playin a tune or two, free of my slippers  I made my way to the bass player. Fortunately he was both approachable and spoke English, “ I would really dig to play brotha, my horn is at my friends place, but if its cool with you, ill get a cab, n go and pick it up, come back n have a blow, is that cool with you?”Unlike the spawn of Satan that frequent the Jam session at Ronnie Scott’s, he said “Sure”I rushed out n hailed a cab. Sitting in the cab I once again questioned my sanity, I was completely wipped out, barely keeping my eyes open, I was about to run into my hosts apartment at 12.30 and inform them that I was going back to play a tune with some cats I just met. The madness only compounded by the fact that I had to catch five trains to get to Vittoria in Spain, I would be leaving Paris at 5.30 in the morning and arriving in Spain at 12.30 the following night. All this considered I knew what I had to do.I made my way to up to Kris and Dave’s apartment, greeted all their guests and explained that I was going to play at a small club I had found on my way home. bizarre behaviour, even for a bunch of eccentric Frenchman, I received some strange looks, I grabbed my horn n scooted down the stairs and jumped back into my cab. 15 minutes later I arrived at the club and 20 minutes later I was singing sweet n lovely.The kind of magic that happens when one finds oneself in the company of great musicians, can only be experienced, words fail on every level, and the only way to relate is to listen to the document which is the recording.In this case there was none, but I did have a gig booked in Paris for the last week in September, I mentioned the date to them and given the natural synergy and musical chemistry that existed between us, they were excited at the possibility of playing together, 5 weeks later I arrived back in Paris, and without a rehearsal I met the musicians at La Pomme de eve, we spoke through the music and an hour later the concert started.It was pure magic, this time it was recorded, it might have been done with one microphone, straight to a laptop, but the magic is there to hear, and there to be shared, so if you made it to the end of this, and would like a taste let me know n ill lead you swiftly to the beginning of a musical rainbow.P.s i have recently posted some rather humorous videos and some pictures of the gig, so if you have a moment check them out, they good for a bit of a laugh.

Peace
Rus