Herbie Hancock’s piano intro follows with a short riff of staccato trumpet. The 10 o’clock crowd is excited and attentive; beers sprawled across the packed tables.  This is just a regular night at the historic A-Trane jazz club. Or at least I picture it that way. This Charlottenburg musical institution can boast the likes of Alice Coltrane and Wynton Marsalis among its long list of famous performers, though I have never seen these people. More important than them, the pricey 30 Euro concerts and the magical performances of eras past is the egalitarian, convivial atmosphere of the place.  Free Saturday night jam sessions, when musicians and enthusiasts stroll in past midnight evoke that cool, improvisational nonchalance that we want from jazz. The waitresses will pass you tall glasses of beer through the arms and coats of eight people. You can go alone or in a group, but loneliness and company become irrelevant as you are blasted away by simple noise. After, walking out into the cold quiet of Bleibtreustrasse at 3am, in the dead of December, your blood is warm and pulsing—maybe from the beer or the lingering bass vibrations—and you feel ready for anything and nothing at the same time. (Bettina Warburg-Johnson)