I was gonna need a nudge to see The Nuge get noteworthy Friday night as the numbing wind chill spanked the thermometer stupid outside. Rochester International Jazz Festival promoter and all-around swingin' saxocat John Nugent was sitting in this weekend with jazz guitarist Bob Sneider and his group at The Grill at Strathallan.

Once the steam emanating from my chest cleared, my eyes fell on a cozy scene. The band parked itself on the floor to one side and swung mellow and righteous, frequently giving way to one another for solomente sojourns to elsewhere. The joint was filled, with this town's equivalent to the smart set.

Or rather, the loud set.

People at the bar talked loudly in a sort of self-important symphony. They weren't there to see the band. I was.

Sure, I gotta press the flesh and kibitz a little when I make the scene. But I'm there to hear the music.

And honestly, I get that impression a lot at jazz shows around here. Here's a style of music --- in particular Nugent's mellow tone and groove --- that's perfect for a little one-on-one, face-to-face, cheek-to-cheek time; communiqués all delivered sub rosa, on the DL, under your breath, or better yet, implied. Yet it had to compete with the chin music at the bar.

Look, I'm the last one to be giving lectures about raising hell, volume, or general inappropriateness. But it shouldn't steamroll the band, man. Let the music be your guide, the soundtrack to your passion pitch.

Who knows, if the guy in the green cardigan and the rusty nail had brought it down to a roar --- or at least done it in time to the music --- maybe he wouldn't have struck out...