Let me show you something incredible. There is a staircase on West 10th Street, just off Seventh Avenue, that drops you into a low-ceilinged basement room with about sixty seats, a big black-and-white portrait of Louis Armstrong on the wall, and a bar tucked into the side. The seats run right up to the lip of the stage. There is no stage, really — the musicians stand on the floor, and your knees are about two feet from the bass player’s shoes. This is Smalls Jazz Club, and after midnight on a weekend, it becomes one of the most extraordinary rooms in New York City.
What It Feels Like After Midnight
The headlining set wraps around 11:30. Most of the audience filters out. The room exhales. And then, slowly, the late-night crowd starts filling in — younger players carrying horns in soft cases, a few off-duty bartenders, a couple of die-hards who come every week. Around 1 a.m., the jam session begins.
Someone calls a tune. A standard, usually — something everyone in the room already knows in their hands. The house rhythm section locks in. A sax player who was sitting at the bar three minutes ago steps onto the floor and takes a chorus. Then a trumpeter. Then a singer who was visiting from out of town and got talked into it. The energy in the basement shifts — looser than the headlining set, more dangerous, more alive. You are watching musicians find each other in real time, in a room small enough that you can see every facial expression.
This is the part of the New York jazz scene that almost never gets photographed and almost never gets reviewed. It happens after the tourists have gone back to their hotels.
The History You Are Sitting In
Smalls opened in 1994, founded by a former submariner and nurse named Mitch Borden who wanted a room where young musicians could play long, weird, ambitious sets without a clock running over their head. It became a proving ground. The club closed in 2003 — declining attendance after September 11, rising rent on West 10th Street, and the indoor smoking ban all squeezed it shut. In 2006, Borden teamed with pianist Spike Wilner and Lee Kostrinsky to reopen the room, and the club has been running ever since.
Today the basement at 183 West 10th Street still feels like the same room it was thirty years ago. The portrait of Armstrong has not moved. The bar still serves drinks in glass that clinks against the music. And the late-night jam tradition — players showing up after their other gigs to sit in for fun — has only deepened.
Why You Have to Stay Late
Plenty of people come to Smalls for the early sets, hear a great performance, and leave thinking they got the full experience. They did not. The headlining sets are excellent — the club books some of the most respected players in the city — but the after-midnight jam is where the room becomes unrepeatable. You will hear combinations of musicians that have never played together before and may never play together again. You will hear someone take a solo so good the rest of the room actually applauds mid-chorus. You will hear a tune you know taken somewhere you did not know it could go.
Insider Tip: If you want a seat for the jam, do not show up at 1 a.m. Get to the club for the second set of the night, around 10:30 p.m., and stay through the changeover. The room thins out for ten minutes between the headliners and the jam, and that is your window to claim a chair near the front. If you wait until the jam is in full swing, you will be standing against the back wall.
How to Visit
Address: 183 West 10th Street, New York, NY 10014 (basement, on the corner of West 10th and Seventh Avenue South)
Nearest subway: 1 to Christopher Street-Sheridan Square (a 2-minute walk)
Hours: Nightly, with sets typically starting in the early evening and the late-night jam running from roughly 1 a.m. to 4 a.m. on most weekend nights. Schedules vary, so check the club’s site for the night you want.
Cost: A modest cover for the headlining sets, with a separate cover or reduced cover for the late-night jam. Drink minimums apply at the table seats.
Reservation: Tickets for headliners can be reserved in advance through the club. The late-night jam is generally walk-in.
What to Order
This is not a craft cocktail bar. The drinks are honest, classic, and exist mainly to give your hands something to do while you listen. Get a beer or a whiskey, settle in, and stop looking at the menu. The point of the room is the music.
While You Are in the West Village
Smalls anchors a stretch of West 10th Street that has been playing live music since before most of the audience was born. If you want to plan a fuller week of small-room shows, our guide to this week’s jazz and small-venue picks maps out where else to be after dark in the next seven days.
There is a moment, sometime around 2 a.m. on a good night at Smalls, when a soloist plays a phrase so unexpected that the bartender stops pouring, the crowd leans in, and the room collectively decides to remember the night. That moment is why the basement still exists. It is why people fly across oceans to sit on those sixty seats. And it is why, if you live in this city and you have not gone yet, you should put it on the list this week.
