Ben and I arrived at 8:00, Matt had been there a half hour already and had his tea set all spread out. Matt notwithstanding, we were there for associated drinkery, and immediately ordered a pitcher. Unfortunately this means I can't comment on the food, and Bangkok Blues is a restaurant first and foremost. Well, the Post says its good, and I'll defer judgment... my liquor palette is refined enough for criminology work, but unfortunately (perhaps because of) I'm not an exacting judge of food. Everything kind of tastes like paste these days... we had a pitcher of Bangkok Blues Lager, with I'm sure is some Old Dominion brew with a picture of a pepper slapped on it; it was good though, worth the extra $2 over a pitcher of domestic. After that was gone, Ben wanted a martini; he's sliding over to a pure hard liquor diet, whereas as I'm watching my consumption for society's sake; but I had been a while without cocktail olives, and figured it couldn't hurt. Well, that was not a $6 martini. I know, I know, caveat emptor, what do you expect if you don't specify a liquor? Still, a bar should be judged by many qualities, one of which is the standard of its well drinks. A quick glance over the bar while Ben and Matt sucked nicotine revealed the red label of my old friend, Aristocrat, metal pouring nozzle rising majestically from it's plastic body. Are the well liquors supposed to be the worst in the bar? Yes, arguably, some restaurateurs might feel that way. Is Aristocrat completely off limits besides your lower income liquor cabinets? No, I can think of a few places, my beloved Marks Pub comes to mind, where the sight of an Aristocrat bottle brought a chuckle to my lips... but why is this skid-row spirit rubbing elbows with a $17 steak? Anyway, the martini sucked; I'd only order drink drinks at the bar itself, and I'll specify the Bombay Sapphire I saw against the far wall next time.

My notes on the decor say, "store-bought, but cool", because I was feeling pretentious, I guess. This refers to the framed posters along the walls: jazz artist tributes, concert bill reproductions, and a big chronology we had fun with looking for Slim Gaillard (macvooty!). Yeah, you could get a few of these things down at the mall; the decorations aren't as authentic as the black-and-beautiful canvas amateur stuff on the walls of HR-57. But when we went back from the bar to our table, everything started coming together. The band was taking a set break to eat dinner (you'll eat and drink next to your favorite musicians in Bangkok Blues intimate setting!), and the television sets that had before been showing a view of the stage now were playing old recordings, Ella Fitzgerald in a black and white Ernie Kovacs stage, taped off of BET Jazz or something, but then it hits you, this is a collection up on these walls, and a damn good collection, the one of your friend with the beret that's always describing his excitement in terms of Gene Krupa going bap didi bap didi bap. This isn't the product of some jazz man that got tired of hauling his carcass around Mississippi and woke up in Falls Church, and to the cynical among us that might make it inauthentic. But it's clear to me that Bangkok Blues is an expression of fanship, jazz appreciation and devotion. I can't use chopsticks properly, but I'm still with my kind in this place.

On the night we went (Tuesday, so I wasn't expecting A-list material) we were treated to Tom Vaughn and the Roadhouse 5. I think we all agreed that the band wasn't bad, and was getting better as the night rolled o. Also, they brought the full bunch, six musicians up there; so they were a pretty class act. But check out this schedule from the Bangkok Blues site. I'm writing this based on the January bookings, but I'm totally digging the sheer variety that they've got scheduled. Most of it falls into their designated milieu, but you've still got the full spectrum of horn-related entertainment venues to enjoy. Come to think of it, I could be hearing blues right now... if only that were possible. Matt points this out, but they don't play late enough. Packing up the horns at 10:30 on a school night, I can understand. But on the weekend, I want to see somebody blowing in poolhall concentration into the naked eye of two AM, see? Still, there's plenty in the plus column for this little jazzhole that could. I dub thee thumbs up.

Oh, I almost forgot, but the management won't let you do the same... the place obviously has some kind of parking problem. They appear to be neighbors with an aggressively towing market, and you'll see lots of signs inside the place telling you where you can't park. But since Falls Church isn't littered with options, getting there early might be prudent. Or maybe you should get there late hoping people will have left after dinner. Or maybe you should take your jet motorcycle.