The Future of Jazz Music in Detroit?

In the heart of Detroit’s downtown, Cliff Bell’s is a living piece of the city’s rich cultural history. A part of the history that speaks the most to me as an avid jazz lover. Cliff Bell opened up the jazz club in 1935 and the venue has over the years since been a witness to the changing tides of music, culture, and community. 

The time capsule that is Cliff Bell’s instantly transports the visitor to an era of art deco elegance and musical brilliance. As many other similar establishments the club faced difficulties and by the 80’s the club closed and was left for many years to come. 

In the early 2000s, the jazz club received a much-needed revitalization, breathing new life into its veneered walls. The original charm was kept intact while adding modern touches, making it the go-to spot for jazz lovers today. In short, Cliff Bell’s is more than just a jazz club; it’s a symbol of Detroit’s resilience and the ongoing rebirth of a city. 

My wife and I had the pleasure of experiencing a slice of that wonderful pie of rich musical history as we visited the establishment in late December of 2023. I received the visit as a birthday gift from my wife, who, like me, is a lover of good music. Specifically, jazz might be more my cup of tea. According to my Spotify Wrapped, I was among the top 0.05-0.1% of Chet Baker listeners on Spotify year after year.

Oh well, back to Cliff Bell’s.

It was not my first visit; my wife brought me here the first time I visited the country. I was taken that time and never could let go. We have wonderful venues in my home country, Sweden, as well, but nothing quite like this, not that I can think of. The air, the aura, the way the employees not only carried themselves but the venue itself—it was breathtaking.

Now, my second visit was no different. Alex Harding, William Hill III, and the other musicians made sure of it. More on that later.

Here we are: drinks, a beer, and wonderfully talented musicians brought us into a different world.

A few drinks in, and during steak dinner, a young musician got up on the stage. We had seen the nods and the seemingly quiet behind-the-scenes arrangement where this guy from over on the far right by the stage was sitting. He got up and took to the stage by the grand piano. He and the band on stage exchanged a few words and then they took off at the speed of light. The young pianist fired off single notes here and there, and I thought to myself, “Did he know what he walked into?” He did, as it turned out.

Before the set had ended, his glasses had to be fished out of said grand, nestled in between the strings. His big fur hat was somewhere else. He had played part of the solo with his elbow and his heel. Think Thelonious Monk meets Little Richard.

The main band we watched was Quartet Now!, with a few changes in the lineup. They were, I believe, led by Alex Harding on baritone saxophone. I had the pleasure of talking to him. We chatted for a moment and he let me take a few photos of him in the dark setting. He was eating his dinner so I tried keeping it short. He had the air of a professional yet humble jazz giant.  

By the end of our night, I asked the young pianist, William Hill III, if I could take a couple of pictures. He let me. I took a few pictures, let him off the hook. A little bit later, when passing his table again, he stopped me and asked if I could send him the pictures I took. I said I could, but if so, I wanted to borrow him to take some more. 

Out in the rain we went.

Music is alive and well. Jazz is still young and fresh. Detroit is like the music that flourishes in it—regenerative. I left the old-school jazz club with a newfound belief in the future of the music I love.