As neighborhoods gentrify, their restaurant and entertainment venues are being put in the same position as other longtime residents. In Logan Circle, for example, both the Metro Cafe and the Saint have closed in the last year, their corners slated for upscale condominiums and shops.
The venerable New Vegas Lounge shut its doors in October 2002 for renovations, but as the months dragged on, blues fans began to fear the worst. There was no sign of life in the redbrick roadhouse, which once teemed with a diverse sea of music lovers every weekend. Phone calls went unreturned. Ominously, the club remained closed for more than a year, while upscale restaurants and apartments sprouted along the block.
Thankfully, it was a false alarm. "[Our family has] owned the building since 1971, so being priced out of the neighborhood was never a problem," says Jeremy Kittrell, who serves as the club's general manager.
On Nov. 7, the New Vegas Lounge reopened to the expectant public, and what the Kittrells have done is nothing short of breathtaking. Gone are the wood paneling and mirrors plastered with beer logos that covered the walls, the well-worn carpeting and the cramped wooden stage set in a far corner of the room.
Renovated literally from pressed-tin ceiling to tiled floor, the Victorian building's toasted orange brick walls and slate fireplace are now fully exposed. In front of a spacious new stage lies a burnished hardwood dance floor. The audience can watch the show from an area of tables and high-backed chairs, or from seats at a new L-shaped brick bar set with smart glass blocks. It's modeled after a bar in New Orleans's legendary Preservation Hall, Kittrell says.
"Our initial thought was to create a modernized feel but keep the ambiance of the blues," Kittrell says. "We put a bit of Chicago and New Orleans and Memphis and all those places combined. We wanted to create something that was new and hip, but keep the feeling of the old times."
What they've lost aesthetically is the feeling of being in a time-forgotten juke joint, but the stripped-down atmosphere is easily the best place in town to get the blues. On Friday and Saturday nights, the seven-piece Out of Town Blues Band knocks out audiences with a killer one-two vocal combination. First, Special D (David Henderson), decked out in a zoot suit and flashy shoes, leads the band through tight, rousing versions of Stax and Motown hits -- "Ain't Too Proud to Beg," "Mustang Sally," "Stagger Lee" -- and a James Brown medley that includes "Mother Popcorn" and "Get Up (I Feel Like Being a) Sex Machine." The dance floor doesn't slow, even during "Try a Little Tenderness."
Then Dr. Blues takes over.
An older gentleman who wears thick glasses, a tuxedo and red bow tie, Dr. Blues (aka Jessie Kittrell) is the club's patriarch and, as Kittrell aptly describes him, "godfather to everybody." He lends his sonorous voice to the canon of the blues: "Goin' to Chicago," "Stormy Monday," "The Thrill Is Gone." He bellows, "Shake what your mama gave you!" over a funky groove, and the crowd happily complies. After his performance, Dr. Blues wanders to the bar, where it seems half of those in attendance -- young and old, black and white -- seek a handshake or to slap palms.
The Out of Town Blues Band rules most weekends, and the New Vegas Lounge has long been a destination for touring blues performers, but Kittrell says, "The emphasis on renovating this place was to be able to facilitate concerts by acts like the Delfonics, the Winstons, the Persuaders, Denise LaSalle, people of that level. Washington does not have a facility that offers real live rhythm and blues in concert in a comfortable setting. We're kind of like the counterpart to Blues Alley, in that they have jazz and we have the real rhythm and blues."
This weekend, the club's grand opening celebration includes the Winstons, a Washington R&B band that had a major hit in 1969 with "Color Him Father," and Major Harris, a former lead singer of the Delfonics, joined by other members of that Philadelphia soul band.
The Kittrells have big plans for the future, including a new soul-food menu. Gone, though, are the early-week open-mic jam sessions. But as long as Dr. Blues is in the house, the music will remain healthy.
-- Fritz Hahn (Nov. 21, 2003)
