Jazz bar 🎷

Jazz grew out of New Orleans in the early twentieth century. The saxophone is older: the Belgian Adolphe Sax built it in the 1840s. Because every performance is improvised differently, the same tune never comes out the same way twice. In a jazz bar the music is the point, but a volume that still lets you talk is part of the appeal.

The lowest nature reading in the pack. You want the weekend to end in the city at night. Adventure sits dead centre — rather than hunting for somewhere new, you look forward to how tonight's set will go in a place you already know.

Aesthetic is very high. Whoever picks this square is buying the moment when the light, the glass and the music line up. Knowing nothing about jazz is fine. What you like is that the same tune is played differently every time, and that what you hear will only happen once.

You go well with someone who knows when to lower their voice: quieter when the band plays, picking the conversation back up between sets. In a bracket the jazz bar is the square that pulls hardest when you happen to be playing late at night.

The nearest square is the art museum, then the pottery class; all three choose an indoor space with atmosphere. The furthest is hiking. One starts early in the morning; the other finishes late at night.