Paris Jazz Dame Aims to Resurrect Cozy Club: Mike Zwerin
Commentary by Mike Zwerin
Jan. 23 (Bloomberg) -- The 7 Lezards was perhaps Paris's most comfortable, and authentic, jazz club these past dozen years. The music venues of Paris are part of the city's mystique -- they're like tiny, underground Louvres.
The 7 Lezards recently closed, as have three other jazz clubs -- the Bilboquet in St.-Germain-des-Pres, the Franc Pinot on Ile St. Louis, and the Duc des Lombards, near the Place du Chatelet.
A cozy basement on Rue des Rosiers in the Marais, the 7 Lezards also had a bar and tearoom as well as a restaurant on the ground floor, holding about 45 people.
Strangely enough, though they draw small audiences, these places have enormous influence. One of the strengths of jazz is that it's a minority music.
The club downstairs held a capacity of 55. There were portraits of Coltrane, Ray Charles, Ravel, Prince, Jimi Hendrix and Billie Holiday, among others, on the ceiling. Caroline Volcovici, the club's owner and manager, regrets that the building will be torn down and that she could not take them with her.
Billy Bang, Roy Campbell and Joseph Bowie played down there, and saxophonist Steve Potts performed once a week for years. Mostly, though, Volcovici hired French musicians she liked, such as the double-bass player Joelle Leandre.
``It's important to be lighthearted,'' she says. ``We have to keep hearing music. Music is oxygen. We have an obligation to present music that doesn't necessarily earn money.''
Different Colors
She never stuck to one style, however. ``I don't want to be predictable,'' she says. ``There are many kinds of music. I love to learn new things. It's sort of like wearing different color clothes.''
When film and TV producer/director Frank Cassenti read a French translation of Geoff Dyer's essay on Thelonious Monk from his book, ``But Beautiful,'' accompanied by pianist Ronnie Patterson, and bass player Jean-Jacques Avenel, there were maybe 30 people in the room. Still, it was an outsized, memorable evening.
The reason Volcovici had to close was not because she was losing money but because the city of Paris, which owned her building, foreclosed in favor of a new public garden.
She had been the manager and the programmer, and she was there every night. She also was her own chef for many years. Volcovici knows how to micro-manage.
In her next club -- she's shopping -- Volcovici would like to avoid an expensive door charge of 20 euros ($28.86), the going rate these days. She would prefer to charge only 5-10 euros, and gain the rest on what people eat and drink. She finds this more realistic and more practical for the young people she would like to attract.
Disappearing Sax
Volcovici also knows her folklore. She laughs when telling the story of a U.S. musician who left a saxophone in his Parisian hotel room, and then could never find the hotel again. She thinks it was Ben Webster. ``Can anyone tell me who it was?'' she asks.
Since closing the 7 Lezards, she has been buried in paper work. Her studio apartment is piled high with dossiers. Volcovici calls France ``an empire of paper.''
Parisian jazz is not exactly flourishing. With a few exceptions, there's a lot of technique and an absence of feeling. An American musician in Paris compares French jazz to ``having a fine plate and silver forks and knives on a beautiful antique table, but with nothing to eat.''
Not to despair, the good news is that the Duc des Lombards is being remodeled, and will reopen in February, and a new club called ``Les Disquaires'' recently opened near the Bastille. It's a discotheque after midnight, but the owner wanted an early-evening crowd as well, so he's booking jazz musicians such as the classy, Lee Morgan- influenced trumpeter Stephane Belmondo.
An association to support the 7 Lezards has opened up on the Web site
http://www.santxo.net , a name inspired by Sancho in ``Don Quixote.''
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