ON THE TOWN WITH CHIP DEFFAA: CATCHING THE VIVINO BROTHERS AT THE IRIDIUM

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By Chip Deffaa

I was walking up Broadway the other night, and I spotted the name on the marquee a block away: “JIMMY VIVINO.”  It did my heart good, for a lot of reasons,  to see that name on the brightly lit marquee.  Oh, I’ve always loved the Vivinos, and I was looking forward to seeing Jimmy and his brother Jerry at the Iridium (on Broadway at 51st Street), which for decades has been an important New York nightspot.  Any gig by the Vivinobrothers is worth celebrating. They’re both consummate musicians, and after a lifetime of working together  they’ve got an almost telepathic rapport.

[avatar user=”Chip DeFFaa” size=”96″ align=”left”] Chip DeFFaa, Editor-at-Large[/avatar]

But I was also happy to see people lined up on the sidewalk, waiting to get into both the Iridium (downstairs) and Ellen’s Stardust Diner (upstairs).  Because it’s another sign that New York nightlife is continuing its recovery from the pandemic. Things haven’t yet fully recovered.  But Jimmy and Jerry Vivino absolutely packed the Iridium the night I was there. (I felt lucky to get a seat.)  I’ll tell you  about their music in a bit.  But first, I want to reflect  on the pandemic and New York nightlife.

When I look back on the pandemic, my first memories are of three friends who died from Covid, early in the pandemic.  I think, too, of one acquaintance who was forced to give up performing due to the debilitating effects of long-term Covid.  

I’ll also remember the way Covid made New York feel like a ghost town.  How weird it was to walk thought the theater district and see so few people out and about.  To see clubs shuttered, theaters dark.  As the months passed, I wondered how New York’s clubs would even manage to survive; they had no income coming in.  One of New York’s best-known clubs, Caroline’s Comedy Club—just a block or so down the street from Ellen’s Stardust Diner and the Iridium—was among the casualties of the pandemic.

Iridium was the first important club I knew of to re-open, after being closed for about 18 months due to the pandemic.  But if its doors were open, patrons were not quite ready to return yet, and it soon was forced to close again, waiting for tourist-trade (which helps keep New York nightlife going) to return.  It was far from certain that this famed New York club would be able to survive.

But Ellen Hart Sturm–who owns Ellen’s Stardust Diner and the Iridium (and, for many years before she opened  those two venues, owned Ellen’s Café)—is nothing if not tenacious.  She’s been in the business as long as I’ve been around, and she has the combination of business-smarts, awareness of talent, and ability to keep patrons satisfied that’s required to survive as a club-owner in New York. That’s one tough business; most clubs open and close pretty quickly. But great nightlife is one of the things that sets New York apart from the average America city.  I want to see clubs like Iridium survive and thrive.  Without them, you might as well be living in some place like Dayton or Trenton or South Bend. In

It would be impolite for me to ask Ellen Hart Sturm her  exact age; but her professional career goes back fully 65 years; you can do the math.  She was “Miss Subway” in NYC in 1959 (65 years ago), and worked as an actress and model before finding her niche as a club owner. And she’s still working hard at keeping her clubs going. Give her  credit!

I’m very glad the Iridium survives.  It holds a lot of good memories for me.  I’d much rather see it there, on Broadway at 51st Street, than see another McDonalds or the like.  And I’m glad the Vivinos packed the place.

I’ve always loved their work, from the very start of their careers. Jimmy (on guitar) and Jerry (on tenor sax) have worked with some of the biggest names in the business–Tony Bennett, Bruce Springsteen, David Bowie, Wynton Marsalis, Keely Smith, Dr. John, Bette Midler, and many more.  For a quarter-century Jimmy and Jerry were the heart of the band (which Jimmy wound up leading) on Conan O’Brien’s TV show.  I once went to a taping of “Late Night with Conan O’Brien” just to see Jerry and Jimmy.

And there are some mighty strong entertainment  genes in that family.  Their brother Floyd Vivino has had a great career as a comedian, piano player, and singer.  (If you want to know more about the Vivinos, check out Barry Rubinow’s documentary, “Banded Together…”) Jerry’s daughters Natalia Vivino (who was in the audience the night I was there) and Donna Vivino (who’s currently in the Broadway musical “Hell’s Kitchen’)  have both starred as “Elphaba” in productions of  “Wicked” (Donna on Broadway, Natalia in the national tour).

And whether they’re playing, singing, or just bantering with the audience, Jimmy and Jerry perform with great  warmth and zest, and an appreciation for music both old and new.  They know how to entertain; they’re not just playing for themselves; they’re connecting with the public.  

If you like the blues—and I do—they gave us all shades of it.  For me, it was worth being there just to hear their version of “Goin’ Down Slow.”  That’s one of the greatest of all blues numbers.  It was written by–and first recorded by—St. Louis Jimmy Oden.  His version came out in 1941, drawing upon a much-older blues traditions about a  dying man’s reflections.  Howlin’ Wolf, Bobby Bland, Eric Clapton, and countless other artists have offered their interpretations of it over the years.  And there’s no one living I’d rather hear perform this number than Jimmy Vivino.  His guitar-playing was beautiful—the pure sound, the choice of notes—and his singing and talking was authentic, touching.  It was just wonderful to be there and hear that—for me the high point of the night.

Jerry got the whole crowd to sing—enthusiastically and in time—with him on “Caldonia (What Makes Your Big Head So Hard),” which Louis Jordan and Woody Herman made popular back in the 1940s.  I greatly enjoyed singing along.  And we also all joined in, singing “Happy birthday” to their bassist, Jesse Williams, as he was presented with a piece of New York cheesecake.  (“One piece of cheesecake for the whole room?  Where is Jesus when we need him?”).  It may be corny to sing “Happy Birthday” in a club; but it’s also kind of nice.  We’re social creatures.  And gathering in a club to connect—whether we’re listening to music or wishing a musician happy birthday—is part of the reward of going out, and not just staying home listening to recordings,

Both Vivino brothers are multi-instrumentalists.  Jerry’s primary instrument is tenor sax, but he played flute where that worked best, and also soprano sax.  (On one number, he played both soprano and tenor saxes simultaneously)  And Jimmy was equally at home whether playing guitar, singing, playing keyboards, or sharing his philosophy on life.  (And when one audience member shouted, “You’re a prophet, Jimmy!,” he responded, without missing a beat, “Ain’t no profit in being a prophet.”)  They offered us songs ranging from “Why Can’t We Live” (with its most welcome idealistic feel)  to “It’s Gonna Be Two of those Days,” to “21st Century Blues,” and “Hamp’s Hump.”  And their banter was as much fun as the music.  They reminisced about driving around town when they were like 17years old, smoking home-grown pot, and listening to music by jazz artists like Les McCann and Eddie Harris, whose music they’re helping to keep alive today.

I got to see some people whom I know in the house, from Sandy Pisak to veteran cabaret entertainer Scott Barbarino, and that made the night even nicer for me.  

It’s always good to see the Vivinos, anywhere.  And it’s good to see the Iridium packed like that. And with people lining up to get in, no less.  

I know that some clubs are still struggling,.  And I know friends who are reluctant to go out, for one reason or another. (Some have voiced concerns to me about Covid, or about taking the subway at night due to crime, which they feel is worse than it was before the pandemic. ) Some clubs are staying open but are no longer offering the late-night sets they used to offer.  The situation is still fluid, still changing.

But I was glad to see every seat in the house filled for the Vivinos.  New York needs nights like this.