Dag 1 ”Seven roads to hell” rullar igång i högtalarna och jag går ut på scenen. Natten är lugn, och det är bara fåtal kunder i...
2 deaths; A house and a teacher – pt Ifungrim
As time goes by things passes. People and places flow in front of our eyes, and even though we often would like to stop the motion, hold the current, we never can. And sometimes, you don’t even notice loved things passing until they are already out of sight.
The first item on the menu for the posts of today is the demise of the jazz club Village in Västerås. Apparently it went tits up last summer. And even though I haven’t been there, or even visited, for some 16 years, I couldn’t help feeling a bit sad. In the 90’s Village was arguably one of the three most prominent jazz clubs in the country, the other two being Fasching in Stockholm and Nefertiti in Gothenburg. Year after years a slew of great Swedish and international musicians would stop by the small house in the harbor and gift us with music. They also had a policy to let music students from the local senior high school in for free, or for a modest sum, if there was only room to squeeze them in. Among those yours truly.
And so, between the ages 16 – 19, I was a regular. To enumerate all the fabulous nights I’ve had there would be impossible. I can still, by only closing my eyes, feel with my entire body the exhilaration walking away late a weekday night with my friends, after hearing, say, Red Mitchell, the pick a name from the stack, or any other great set, live. The adrenaline, the dreams and the laughter.
In this tale though, not everything is dark. Village lives yet in the form of “the friends of Village” who are even now, working to find a new home, new money and new artists.
So, here’s to hope of life after death.