The band at the Market today was a throw back, hep cat, "it's jazz man" trio. The Elder member of the trio (I don't know if I can call it a "band) was on the keyboard sporting a well-loved beret. Black, of course.
Flanking the Elder on either side was a long-haired upright bass and a ba-ba-licious conga drummer.
They smoothly moved through the standards. People ate their chickpea curry and vietnamese cabbage salad, surrounded by bags of nectarines and beets, and sang along to Girl in Kingston Town and All of Me.
Toward the end of the first set an older couple got up and, leaving their canes aside (not kidding) swung away to It Ain't Got a Thing. Everyone applauded.
By the time I picked up my weekly dose of vegetables, they were still at it. Neither had fallen. The Beret shouted, "Tell me when you get tired; we'll slow down!"
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