Another Bill Charlap Road Story

We have traveled for music before, even to see Bill Charlap play. However, we had yet to see Charlap play with his incredible trio. So, a couple weeks ago, Maria and I embarked on our latest indulgent road trip for music. On a Saturday morning, we dropped off the kids at Mom's (thanks Mom!) and were on the road by 11 AM, on our way to Detroit. We figured that would give us enough time for 5+ hours in the car, plus quick stops for gas and lunch, and counting the time zone change, to be at the club at 6 PM.

To avoid construction on the Eisenhower, we went around downtown Chicago. Once the GPS accepted the fact that we weren't going through downtown, we got the first good estimate of our arrival time, and we were right on track. I was nervous about traffic going into Indiana, and it was heavy but kept moving well. Leaving Chicagoland behind, and with Maria behind the wheel, we really started gaining ground. By the time we stopped for gas in Michigan, I think we had gained about 20 minutes.

Still I was nervous, and I treated the gas stop a little too much like a Chinese fire drill. The receipt didn't print at the pump, and I always get a receipt, so I dashed inside and asked for one, ran back out, and jumped into the car. A few exits later, we stopped at a Subway for lunch. That's when Maria noticed that the gas cap was missing. Distracted by the receipt, I had forgot to put the cap back in, and ours is not attached as many are. It was gone. And even with the time gained it was too far to go back and look for it. We got our sandwiches and drove on. (It's not dangerous without the cap, right? The things we do for music.)

I drove for about an hour, while Maria ate lunch and took a break. It was raining off and on. We were still gaining time, albeit not as quickly as before. I pulled off and Maria took over. We were starting to think maybe we could visit with Maria's cousin Marcus for a short while before the show.

There was a bad patch of construction just west of Ann Arbor, a few miles of one-lane traffic. We gave up some earned time, and still we were in the black. Visiting Marcus before the show was looking less likely, but we figured to get to the club in plenty of time.

And then we ran straight into the mother of all traffic jams. On the 96 outside of downtown Detroit, before the 94. We decided to just hang in there. That strategy had worked out fine outside of Ann Arbor. We inched along for a while and slowly realized that the entire freeway was closed. (I later learned that there was bridge demolition work.) We followed the detour signs for a while, and then we must have missed one. Detroit is interesting! Thank goodness for GPS. We found our way on to Grand River Road and were heading back downtown. We were going to make it.

The Dirty Dog Jazz Cafe is in Grosse Pointe Farms, a couple miles northeast of downtown Detroit. The GPS took us through an improbable series of narrow residential streets, and suddenly there was a little Main Street USA (Kercheval Street) and the cafe. No time to change, I threw on a dark long sleeve t-shirt (jazzy!) and we walked in. It was about 5:50. Our reservation was for the 8:00 show! But they had an opening at 6 and invited us to stay. Maria boldly asked where she could change her outfit. “The musicians haven't arrived yet—why don't you change in their dressing room?” So I was a slob, easily the worst dressed guy in the room, and Maria looked fantastic.

The cafe is a typical restaurant-size room with a bar towards the back. The piano and other instruments are set up in the front area, not far from the entrance. The room is dark and carefully decorated. We noticed that the etched glass at the top of a partition next to our table was filled with musical references—clefs, rests, etc.

The Dirty Dog has a three course prix fixe menu. There were no vegetarian entrees (possibly the only criticism I could have of the place) but they offered Maria a larger portion of the gnocchi appetizer, which she loved. I had a cheesy tomato soup and the lamb, both very good. For dessert I had the most unusual tiramisu. It was like a flan. All the right flavors were there, still the texture was completely unexpected. Just one more nit: no cappuccino.

While we were eating, the band arrived at the restaurant. A short time later they took to their instruments, the heavens parted and the whole room ascended into a musical nirvana. We were seated maybe 20 feet from the band as they played. As we expected, they played the room very well. They were not playing background music by any means, but they didn't make our ears bleed either. It was a fantastic hour of mostly uptempo standards in well rehearsed arrangements with plenty of room for improvisation. Several times I noticed Charlap throw in a reference to some other song—there were a couple measures of “In Walked Bud” visiting another tune. We arranged to stay for another set, and would gladly have stayed for the third except that Maria's cousin was waiting for us. Charlap and the trio are musicians' musicians, and there are few if any that both Maria and I enjoy as much.

We noticed, especially during the second set, that there were a number of couples who came to the Dirty Dog just for dinner, and there happened to be some music there too. It would certainly be worth going to the Dirty Dog just for the food (OK, maybe not all the way from Chicago), but I can't imagine a life in which I didn't realize there was a preeminent group of musicians playing for me.

I doubt that we have had a more enjoyable evening. Everyone at the Dirty Dog was incredibly nice to us. The food was very good. The music was unbelievable. Another crazy road trip for Bill Charlap, and it was so worth it.