The show last night at the Regattabar in The Charles Hotel was wonderful. I love her music, you might, too. She coaxes joy from what I think of as fundamentally a sad instrument that invokes flight and loss: Think of the fiddler on the roof, no kidding. But in Regina’s hands, the moment comes alive and the result is transcendent. She finds happiness, which I think is at the heart of jazz–think of Louis Armstrong or Miles or Ella performing during periods of profound hatred and the general barriers placed before them. She creates a space of safety and assurance.
And our seats were good: Because it’s a very small jazz club and I go a few times a year and they must have seen we’re back tonight, we were at a front row table sipping scotch. On the way home, I grabbed a slice of pepperoni @ Pinocchio’s, which makes fresh dough: I saw them doing it as I waited. Preceded all by sauteed toro and eel at home.