Acid Jazz City . . . sounds fun, and word on the street says it has an excellent bar scene. So I stumbled into Steve’s Place, a smoky south side lounge — lured by the Hancock-like pianos, Miles-type riffs, and funky percussion floating through the cool night air.
After a couple scotches I sidled up to Lola, looking gorgeous as always. “What you got for me tonight, doll?” I asked. “The usual,” she laughed. “Kits, each with a mix file and its various elements . . . about 36 loops per kit.”
Kits: I should have known — it’s a Big Fish thing. But could a kit convey the improvisational nature of jazz? “Chill, baby,” Lola cooed. “What I got is riffs. Short riffs, long riffs, acidy riffs, even some trad kinda riffs. You provide the solo, and do your improvising . . . I’ll provide the bed for it.”
The way Lola says “bed” is enough to distract anyone, but I still had a job to do. “That flute player is pretty good, what’s the deal?” Lola smiled, “For the leads, there are lots of little bits and riffs. You can actually put together a pretty convincing performance, if it doesn’t go on too long. But why not just go to www.eqmag.com; there’s an audio example there that shows exactly what I mean. I’ll even go there with you,” and she winked.
Well, that was music to my ears. And so is Acid Jazz City.