When I was a young-ish (read: adolescent) fellow in the early 1980s, I began to explore Manhattan’s old school bars and lounges on my own, despite not being of drinking age. Actually I didn’t drink so it didn’t seem to matter, though in those days pretty much nobody in New York seemed to care about any rules whatsoever. Anyway, it was jazz I was in search of–specifically jazz piano as that was my instrument. An astonishing number of great players of the past were still at work in quite accessible venues. Once I saw Teddy Wilson playing at a bar called Bradley’s on University Place. He wasn’t giving a show, and it wasn’t a so-called ‘listening room’. He was just playing solo piano and seemed quite content with the gig. (Naturally there were those of us who sat close enough to him and listened with respectful silence for him to know he was being appreciated.) Hanratty’s on 2nd Avenue and 80-something street featured Dick Hyman, Dave McKenna and Dick Wellstood amongst others. And be-bop great Al Haig played solo at the restaurant that occupied the ground floor of One Fifth Avenue. But of all of these terrific piano artists, the one who I was most intrigued by was Ellis Larkin. His playing was soft, velvet-like, cunningly controlled and unexpectedly emotional. Larkin played at a little place that I recall being behind Carnegie Hall on 56th street, though memory could be playing tricks on me–all I remember was that it was Carnegie adjacent. Tonight I’m offering up two beautiful Larkin LPs for your kick-back-and-have-a-drink listening pleasure. There’s no video to watch–this is strictly an audio treat. So turn off those junkie streaming shows, block out the news cycle, lower the lights and have a low-key dinner with Ellis providing the immaculate sounds of his tasteful repetoire. I, of course, will be watching the first NFL game of the season, but don’t do as I do. Do as I suggest…