In a stonewalled basement of St. Paul’s Chapel at Columbia University (116th Street & Amsterdam Ave, NYC) is the most remarkably warm space for acoustic music. This totally hidden secret to me has actually been supporting original music and poetry every Friday and Saturday night of the academic year since 1964. Such luminaries as Jeff Buckley, Shawn Colvin, Ani DiFranco and Dar Williams have graced it’s tiny stage.
This was my first night to visit and I was there to see one of my true favorites, Nicole McKenna. As I made my way through the campus gates on Amsterdam Avenue, passing the trees decorated in white lights, heading towards the church and soaking in the unusually warm February breeze, I couldn’t help but be taunted by my own jaded sense of wonder about this place. Afterall, I’ve seen plenty of places come and go and few of them ever really lived up to their own hype. I walked down the spiraling marble staircase to the basement and could hear the beautiful voice of Ms. McKenna as it reverberated up toward me. The very nature of the church’s construction, even that of the basement, lent itself to having a fantastic sound quality. Little did I know just how blown away I would be by my experience in this unsuspecting venue.
I most likely had the same dumbfounded, dropped jaw expression as every other first-timer when I reached the doorway of the tiny room. Candles in the chandeliers and in wax drenched wine bottles atop each little table. There was not a peep to be heard as all eyes and ears were focused on the acoustic performance on a stage that was not much more than a 4 x 10 riser. And I mean totally acoustic. There are no mics, no amps. Nicole’s bassist and collaborator Saul Zonana said that if a song were to work or fail, it would be in a room like this. Happily, all of their songs worked.
To call the Postcrypt intimate would not even do it justice. This became obvious during an amusing moment when one of the hostesses attempted to open a can of soda. The sound of which matched that of the music. Off in the far corner was the bar serving 75¢ coffee, $1 dollar hot cider or tea and $3 beer. For snacks they had brownies and popcorn and I was greeted with friendly smiles as I whispered my order.
I turned, sipping my delicious hot cider with the feeling that my faith in music has now been somewhat recharged without the annoyance of a 60 Hz buzz, the inevitable entanglement of microphone cables or the annoying rudeness of an oblivious crowd. Now with the loss of many venues to the evil realm of dime-a-dozen cover bands and stale-minded DJs, it is good to know that there remains a place such as this that will support original creative expression. If you don’t think that a simple room can make such a difference, then I suggest that you take a trip uptown and unplug yourself from the city bustle for a bit.
Strange coincidence:
Just as I finished typing this review, my phone rings. It’s a gentleman looking for Columbia University student named Stephen Bailey … and I’ve never attended Columbia … weird.
See Also:
Nicole McKenna
Postcrypt Coffeehouse
