byIT WASN’T exactly a new sound I was getting out of the little spinet, but it was a good sound—and the few customers left in this brand-new Village kick joint at three o’clock in the morning were at least hipped enough to know barrelhouse from outhouse. They sat around the stucco walls in twos and threes, and every time I’d hit a real gone figure they’d nod approvingly. Every now and then, when I got tired of this dead-pan approval, I’d sour a note or slide out of chord a little, just to watch them look pained and sympathetic.
goodI felt pretty good. I was knocking down good dough for this solo spot here in the Cavern Club, and while we wouldn’t be giving Nick’s and Eddie Condon’s any real competition for a while, it looked like we were going to do all right. The club was a natural for t
