The walking bass and trumpet rumbled from a nearby window as I waited to be buzzed in. Turning right down a corridor, I was greeted by a wave of sound, warm bodies and purple light. I had entered the Vortex, a night of jazz and libations shared over a loose network of friends.

“I’m surprised so many people showed up. I announced everywhere I could that this was a secret,” quipped the pianist hosting the party.

This was not an apartment but a loft: a once industrial space turned residential in Greenpoint, Brooklyn. Wooden beams protruding along the middle ensured no guest could be too jealous of another’s view and divided the Vortex between left and right brains. The left brain housed the practical concerns of infrastructure, with grey ventilation pipes from the old warehouse running across the ceiling. The right brain housed the arts, featuring a chain of roses, a disco ball and a trippy visualizer projection to make any college dorm room proud.

The bookshelf had a single labeled section for ‘Humor’. The rest was given to a dead serious collection of books, bottles, motorbike helmets and a meticulously organized rack of pipes among other things.

If you see a show at an NYC jazz club, you might get annoyed by the pressure to order drinks before the show starts and then leave as soon as it’s over to prepare for the next round. The Vortex offered a casual alternative to experience jazz in an organic party setting.

The musicians played what you might call ‘straight-ahead jazz’, the most direct descendent of the 50s or 60s besides the pipes on the bookshelf. The set mixed the players’ original compositions with jazz standards like Thelonius Monk’s “Straight, No Chaser” and Herbie Hancock’s “Maiden Voyage”. The trumpets and piano would introduce a theme melody at the beginning of a piece, then take turns soloing based on that theme. After the trumpet and piano had their turn, everyone would quiet down for a dynamic and inventive bass solo from Will Slater. Finally, the musicians would trade bars with the drummer, who intensified his soloing by a notch on each call-and-response break. 

The least traditional aspect of the lineup was having trumpet (sometimes two of them) without saxophone. A trumpet pierces through noise better than a saxophone, making it a good choice for this event, and it gave the music a cleaner and brighter tone than a saxophone might have.

Inhibition was low and excitement was high for musicians surrounded by friends in a familiar space.

The Vortex aimed its music into a boisterous crowd of young New Yorkers, energized at the end of the workweek. The attendee was empowered to set their own balance of music and socializing. You could shout at your friends over blaring trumpets in the middle of the floor, linger back with the pizza and drinks cooler where you could actually hear each other, or worm your way to the front to focus on music. Audience trapped in the back had to focus past the festivities to the music up front. I found that listening to one snippet of nearby conversation gave the illusion of hearing an abstract spoken word poem set to jazz.

More and more people packed themselves into the loft as the night went on, and the band followed suit by inviting a second trumpeter up. A cross between Willem Dafoe and Eric Andre even joined them onstage to play a lively but under-amplified guitar for one number. The rotation of players kept the performance fresh and relaxed.

I ended up on the floor in front for a clear view of the music. Two lonely gentlemen sat down behind me. “Bro, if you bring a girl to a jazz show, it’s game over,” one lamented to the other over the clinking of beers. Within a few songs it would be game over for me too; my middle age was no match for the late hour.

The low roar of jazz slowly faded into midnight behind me as I walked back to the subway. With the winter holiday season approaching, this was a first of many occasions for people to gather together on cold nights, a celebration of music and ambiance to end the week. Maybe you too will be sucked into the Vortex someday.