((( This Blog Originally appeared in April of 2007 and was sort of the original “blog” that started me on the road to Blogdom.   It’s great to be reminded of the stellar musicians in this EGB configuration that made “A Night At The Bazbar!” )))

THE EGB in ST. BARTHS, MARCH of 2007.

The band was hired to play at the BAZBAR, a music venue in St. Barths for the entire month of March, 2007, six concerts a week, Monday through Saturday. Here is a (somewhat) complete account the EGB invasion of this little French island. Although there are more stories than can possibly be written down, I have endeavored to make this a general report, rather than writing pages and pages of descriptive tales (that comes later in my autobiography!). Some names have been changed to protect the innocent and parental discretion is advised!
No, I’m kidding.
To anyone who wants to know what our month long stay in paradise was like –read on. To anyone who doesn’t feel like reading, just enjoy the pictures.  (BELOW: 1st? night at the BAZ)

(ABOVE: The EGB crew leaving Logan airport (Boston) at 4am. L to R: Boston legendary saxman Tim Mayer, me, Bassist Rick O’Neal, and newcomer drummer Matty Alger.

The first sight I had of St. Barths was from the small six passenger plane that we flew in on (referred to as the St. Barths commuter) from St. Martin ( St.Martin is a commune of Guadeloupe which is an overseas department of France for those of you who may or may not be up on your European Island territories!

The airport at St. Barths is scary. It’s on a narrow Strip of land that connects one of the peninsulas to the main body of the island. This small stretch of blacktop runway is hidden directly after a steep hill. Thus, it takes some ingenuity in landing small aircraft, as the pilots need to swan dive over the hill in order to “catch” the landing strip (The deeper the dive, the more time they have to touch down –get it?). Makes for a fun landing –but not after lunch.

The penalty for not landing the aircraft in time? 10 feet of sand and then…the Caribbean. Yes, it’s true. They have to pull a plane out of the Caribbean -average once per year. At the top of the hill is an active rotary and there are plenty of stories about the wheels from the planes “bouncing” of the roofs of cars.

(A plane makes its approach over a parked convertible)

First, we met our promoter/club owner/host Jean-Marc (he picks the bands up from the aiports himself). A French transplant, he drifted through this part of the Caribbean working on a ship, fell in love with an island native, and never left. Below: He’s the owner/operator of Le Bete a Z’ailes VISIT THE BAZBAR WEBSITE HERE or more commonly referred to as the BAZBAR, a small, open walled sushi/drink bar situated only a few feet from the anchored sailboats in Gustavia (the main city/port of Barthelemy. The Bazbar is quite famous on this little island (there are 7000 inhabitants, and that number swells to 11,000 in the “on-season,” which runs from October through May), carrying the best reputation for music, sushi, and of course, mixed drinks. The man and his beloved Bazbar.

(BELOW: Jean-Marc steals my guitar outside the Bazbar at night)

(ABOVE: Le Bete A Z’ailes by day)

Jean-Marc (with his beach blonde ponytail and sandals) turns out to be quite hospitable, and proudly displays our quarters for the month, a two floor house less than two hundred yards from the club that sits on a hill that overlooks the harbor.

(BELOW: The view from the porch of our house at night)

About the yachts. There are a lot of yachts. Yacht-ville in fact. Yachts with helicopters on top and spare sailboats hoisted to their back decks (it seems that the richest of the rich have a thing for this place).

(BELOW: The Ultima III parked in the harbor)

(ABOVE: The dock just outside the Bazbar)

Just hours after landing, we’re eating dinner (at the Bazbar) and then we play our first night (a Monday night). And the first night goes well. Almost too well. We are instant celebrities. Word spreads around the island in the first few days almost immediately more and more new faces pop up accompanying the familiar ones (although we play Monday through Saturday, it’s important to remember that every night on St. Barths is Saturday night!). There’s no talk of work the next day, or at least that I ever heard. Even the local working class come out to listen to the band until 1am, even when they have be on a fishing boat in four or five hours time.

(BELOW: The Bazbar at night)

(The crowds are excited. They’re really into the music, buy CD’s and dance.  And it gets crazy: people dancing on tables, etc. The craziness builds over the weeks until every night turns into a kind of out of control party)

Jean-Marc is very happy with the band. In the beginning we are new to him and even though he is inviting, he’s hesitant to make friends. He’s had troubles with bands in the past, and it’s going to be a week before he decides whether or not the trashed condo and the police tickets for band members being intoxicated in public will be worth the price of having this new band from Boston. But in the end, we make him proud by keeping the chaos in control, and showing gratitude and responsibility.

(BELOW: A shot of the Bazbar at night, pre-chaos, from my microphone angle)

(ABOVE: A random photo sent via email from a new fan after our arrival back in the states (There were many people taking photos with their digitals and cell phones, so I can only imagine the number of existing photos))

The shows are so much fun, and when we finish playing at 1am, everyone who is out for the night, go to a place called the yacht club (a dimly lit euro trance DJ dance club that happens to be close to our villa). The thumping beat can be heard across the harbor until six in the morning every night. It is the only “late” place to go, where everyone goes for the “last hurrah.” Strippers (male and female) dance on poles, locals try to pick up tourists, and old crew-mates meet when their ships happen to be in the same port. Although the music is simply too loud to carry on a conversation, the club does carry a fascinating “people-watching” element to it. (Use your imagination)

(BELOW: Yachts keep their lights on all night in the harbor)

(ABOVE: Tim Mayer in action (Photo: Barbara Bialkowski 2007))

Our days are spent on the beach, snorkeling and swimming, and trying to learn French with the locals at the Tiki hut style bar that sits on Shell Beach (this is the closest beach to our house, and so we wind up spending the majority of our time here). It’s a topless beach (that’s right kiddies, more sights than Disney world!). And we usually wind up seeing vacationers and locals from the night before. Spending an hour or two in the water at a time, we come across moray eels, turtles, and spotted rays (cousins of the stingrays). And the best part is: We can hear whales singing to each other from miles away. Walking out of the surf one day I was propositioned for an autograph!

We eat at the Bazbar twice a day ( The meals are part of the deal). The club has the reputation for being the best sushi/tai joint on the island (and even including the neighboring islands by some accounts). And so, we’ve been assigned a strict tai/sushi diet. And, it’s the best food we’ve ever had. Two meals a day. Once at noon, (breakfast for us because we get up so late), and once at 6pm. Then it’s the long haul in-between meals (6pm till 12pm the next day). Unfortunately we have to snack on wine and beer at night to keep from going hungry.

The first day we have off we’re invited to be guests aboard the Van Ki Pass (the ship that won the 2006 Newport Bucket Regatta). Here’s a LINK. We spend the whole day searching for whales and hanging out with a new friend, Dom Perignon.

(BELOW: The Van Ki Pass lies in Gustavia Harbor)

(ABOVE: The band collects in the late afternoon at a friends “island chateaux” to watch a sunset above Shell beach)

As you can imagine, we made friends with a lot of people down there and spent many a day and night on boats and roaming around the island. Renting a car or scooter is easy, and helps when you have a destination that is outside of walking distance. Our house is great and we wind up spending time there as well. There’s a full kitchen, an upright bass, and an upright piano. And it’s tuned. I spend afternoons rehearsing the band through new arrangements to be played that very night, and it’s quite easy to lose the entire late afternoon reading a book on the couch that sits on our outdoor porch.

The band gets along marvelously (for living in such close quarters) and we find the rhythm of the daily schedule with ease. The people who work at the Bazbar quickly become our friends and are happy to show us the neat spots that can be hard to find.

(BELOW: St. Barths avenue at 4am)

(ABOVE: Matty Alger poses for a shot behind the drumset) Both photos: Barbara Bialkowski 2007)

People continue to show up night after night, mostly because of the massive repertoire that we put together (so each night was a different show), and they gladly buy CDs (we ran out before the end of the trip), oftentimes tipping us or buying us a round of drinks!

(LEFT: Matty does his famous “pound-a- beer drum solo,” (Photo: Barbara Anna Bialkowski 2007) RIGHT: Tim Mayer looks on as the crowd climbs the tables)

We met people from every continent (even Africa) and the atmosphere at the BAZBAR is electric: The boat owners and their hired crews actually hang out together, the tourists from the States collect postcards from the band, the Europeans dance on the chairs and tables, and Jimmy Buffet shows up five nights in a row to watch the band (he has a house on the island and he chooses to spend his time at the Bazbar when he’s not out sailing his fifteen foot sailboat, the “Groovy”).

(BELOW: Jimmy Buffets’ boat, the “Groovy”)

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Each day seemed to bring a new adventure.

Each night seemed new.
25 Shows in 28 days.
(And it’s recorded! We’re in Post-production phase of releasing “A Night at the Bazbar.” Look for it later this summer!)

As the final week approached and the countdown to our departure started the crowds became so large, that they spilled into the streets and onto the docks. Everyone wanted to see us one last time. And the music was the only alleviation to the idea of leaving such a great place. No one slept for the final 48 hours (we had to be on a plane a mere seven hours after our last performance!).

But, no matter how tired we were in that last stretch, I’m sure that we’re all looking forward to the next time.

(BELOW: The band during a San Juan International (Puerto Rico) lay-over after the final 48 hours)

(ABOVE: Cell phone snapshot taken of me during the last concert)