Through the door of a vintage Coke machine on Eighth Aenue between 18th and 19th Streets, down
cellar stairs (hold on), one enters Adélaïde’s Salon, an apparently open secret for intimate, clubby entertainment.
The room is small. Were it a theater, it might be deemed a black box. Banquette, stools and barrel-like tables are moved to accommodate performers. The ceiling is a labyrinth of branches. A full bar and
select food is available. We shared a mushroom and a margarita flatbread – both quite good. Baked brie, burgers and lamb chops arrived at other tables. Service is attentive.
Misha Piatigorsky
Friday night featured the jazz group Daddy Rabbit: Misha Piatigorsky – MD/piano, Philip Norris – bass, Samuel Sarkisyan – drums, Itai Kriss – flute, Rahj Mason – vocal, guest vocalist Hilary Kole. Unfamiliar
with the band, I was there to see the marvelous Kole and to check out buzz around the venue.
The red door opens at 7 p.m. whereupon one is checked in. It’s not initially clear, but music didn’t (doesn’t?) begin until after 8 p.m. Every seat and standing room was filled by enthusiastic attendees.
Many clearly knew each other and/or band members. There were also those like ourselves intrigued
by the salon’s unique nature or entertainers.
Hilary Kole
Curiously, the band was set up at the room’s center leaving only a few feet around in every direction. This meant looking at the backs of musicians; observing vocalists only from the waist up. Daddy Rabbit might have intended to draw us in. Instead the pleasure of watching faces and hand work was eliminated. Sound level is HIGH. In a venue that size raising the roof should be a metaphor.
The set began with two original instrumentals by Piatigorsky, “Alone” opened soulful, then rose and dipped with unexpected force integrating freeform jazz slaloms of music. “Fala-bicho,” introduced as
a cha-cha, infectiously emerged as one, but like its predecessor, veered, lifting off to unrecognizable territory. Both pieces had appealing themes, but became over dense and long. Piatigorsky performs
like Jerry Lee Lewis – facially exaggerated, wildly rising from the bench, calling out, making sounds.
Hilary Kole and Itai Kriss
Hilary Kole, ever classy, offered an unusually up tempo “All Right with Me” (Cole Porter), replete with terrific round-edged scat. Kole wrapped herself in the song like fur, stroking every phrase – here swift,
but no less silken. Eyes closed demonstratively, every note and lyric experienced. “Estate” (Bruno Martino) was rendered sultry, longlined: You breathe me in the glow of your caress…The vocalist couldn’t help but undulate to melodic sway. Shoulders rose, head turned; her right hand positioned itself, curled thumb to forefinger.
With “Too Close for Comfort” (Jerry Bock/George David Weiss/Larry Holofcencer), the band swung. Flute spiraled and zig-zagged siphoning air from gods know where. Kole’s vocal fanned out wide as if welcoming, aptly counterintuitive to lyrics. Tone was pristine.
Hilary Kole and Rahj Mason
Rahj Mason approached Billy Preston’s “Nothing From Nothing” with skilled Bobby McFerrin-like oral rhythm, between insouciant sips of his drink. The song sashayed to Motown vibes (plus tambourine). Piano was emphatic. This fun number could’ve been sustained longer.
Bass was vigorous and sure, drums nimble, flute able to stunt fly. Encouraged, audience clapped time during one number, parroted on another. Heads bobbed, feet tapped. Across the room, a woman danced, dreaming under the portal.
Adélaïde’s Salon offers music, cabaret, and burlesque. I’m told a belly dancer is coming. Check the calendar. The speakeasy is purposefully different in its approach to variety entertainment and can also
be booked for private parties.
Adélaïde’s Salon
176 Eighth Avenue
Photos by Alix Cohen
