My first Tuesday Night was in March of 2002. I almost didn't go at all, thinking myself senseless for staying out so late with a job that required me to be physically active and mentally alert at 8:00 the next morning. I remember thinking to myself beforehand that that there was not a chance on earth that some band tucked into the corner of a bar playing in the middle of the week would be worth anyone's time. But I had learned to trust the recommendations of DJ 1ey, Live Live's field correspondent, photographer, and generally foolproof music resource, and as such was willing to see about this tiny bar in Brookline at least once. I remember the crowd being sparse that first night, probably no more than 25 people total. I remember a nice selection of aged single malts. I remember walking causally up to the front of the bar and sitting on the floor three feet from the drum kit once the music started. I remember thinking to myself that this music is hands down the best kept secret in Boston, if not the East Coast. Despite the diffuse crowd and unbelievably unruffled atmosphere, the music to ensue that evening seized me completely and has been making my Wednesday mornings extremely difficult ever since.

Exactly who is responsible for all this? That, it turns out, is a tough question. Altitude Music, known to the regulars simply as "Tuesday Night," features a rotating cast of musicians, all of whom provide for a new and different experience each night. The ringleader of the whole operation, and the only musician that performs every week, is Geoff Scott, guitarist of the Miracle Orchestra. Each week, he brings together a highly talented group of musicians to work through his compositions and dabble in uncharted musical territory that make the whole enterprise so unique. As a rule, the common thread between each of these musicians is that they have a propensity for improvisation and experimentation. Other than that single criteria, the Tuesday Night cast's resumes range from dub to hard rock, from hip hop to free jazz, Latin to drum n' bass. And it shows.

With every new combination of players there is a new sound, and as such, Tuesday Night is all but impossible to categorize. The closest I can come is this: Geoff's instrumental compositions combine elements of the jazz/funk movement and the organic techno/instrumental trance movement, with accents of dub, trip hop, and rhythms in nontraditional meter thrown in for flavor. This is all then left to the interpretation of the ensemble on a given night. Tuesday Night, as a result, is an ever-shifting creature that has no chance of growing stale. But the one fixed quantity that can be counted on is groove. This is the anchor to it all: whatever is being played, Altitude Music always grooves.

The whole experience is an anomaly in live music circles. Matt Murphy's Pub is not fitted for live performance by any means; the band usually takes the place of a family-sized table in the back of the room (They used to tuck themselves into a nook at the front of the bar, but eventually outgrew that initial setup). On top of that, there is never a cover charge. While this may happen at many bars around the city, it generally doesn't happen when established musicians are on the bill who are more accustomed to playing at much larger venues, or venues designed for music for that matter. The fact that Tuesday Night thrives is a testament to those musicians who come each week and play purely out of the love of making music. Even if they aren't scheduled to play, musicians come to listen. In many respects, Tuesday Night is a musician's gig. Musicians who have been there and back, seemingly jaded beyond their years, are regularly working their way through the crowd to fight for the good listening spot up front. And as a consequence, in your dancing you might just be rubbing shoulders with someone whose CDs you avidly collect. It's equally likely that on a given Tuesday Night you might be talking with someone at the bar, and they might politely excuse themselves in order to join the band for a song or two, thoroughly impressing you with how musically they violate their saxophone, and at the same time amazing you with what a nice guy they are.

If there is a "core lineup" to Altitude Music, it would be Geoff on guitar, Mike Rivard (Club d'Elf) on bass, Brian Sayers on drums, and Drew Sayers on tenor sax. This lineup is the closest that Altitude Music has come to a band, but the reality is that this is most likely not a project that will ever be referred to as a band. Musicians that perform with Altitude Music usually have their own band or project. Tuesday Night, to them, is a no-pressure jam session that above all else is a lot of fun. The "core lineup" hasn't convened in the back of Murphy's for some time, but with weekly guests from bands such as John Brown's Body, Dead Cat Bounce, Club d'Elf, Soulive, and The Slip, it's hard to complain. Miracle Orchestra drummer Bill Carbone, who has his drums rolling in more projects than you can count (Mang Dub and Krimsky's Renegades to name two) often sits in on kit when he's available. DJ Mister Rourke has been active on the turntables as of late. Reggae/Soul MC Toussiant Liberator made his presence abundantly clear for a stint in October and November. MO bassist Garrett Sayers even took some time off from his day job with the Motet last November to play with Altitude Music for a night (mp3s from the first set of this show are available on Live Live's website for free download). Altitude Music's ever-growing roster of alumni places it squarely in the eye of the storm that is today's live music scene.

I think that the success of Tuesday Night is due to the intimacy and resultant community of the experience. Murphy's is a warm wood-paneled pub, a room that is really stretched to its capacity on some nights. There is a certain closeness between everyone in the room. You can easily hear the band talking with one another; in between sets they mingle freely with fans and friends. At the height of the music, bartender, 'spiritual advisor', and gracious host Jason Waddleton will often join in by pounding out rhythm on the ice drawer behind the bar. People are forced to cut through the band in order to use the bathroom in the back. In its imperfections, the whole setup at Murphy's achieves a beautiful effect. The whole experience of sharing close quarters late into the night has fostered an easygoing, laid back community of music aficionados over the weeks and months, and gives a sense of personal agency to everyone who walks through Murphy's heavy curtains late on Tuesday Night.

To be absolutely clear, I still think that Altitude Music is the best-kept secret on the East Coast. I guess it's becoming less and less of a secret with every day. At this point, the buzz is just beginning in earnest. Geoff assembled a few highlights from Altitude's sessions at Murphy's on a CD entitled Table 8 (most likely the bar's designation of the table that they take out back every Tuesday to make room for the band), which is available for purchase. I highly recommend the second track, which was culled from a gig on May 21st, back when the band played in the front of the bar. Their posters are looking more and more professional. The website (www.altitudemusic.com) is coming together nicely. An incarnation of the project recently performed on WERS's Jazz Oasis. It seems that Altitude Music is making a promotional push, and my only worry is that once people get wind of it, Murphy's will not be big enough to hold them. I personally vacillate between wanting to tell the world and wanting to keep it under my hat. Something this good should be shared, of course, but Tuesday Night at a place other than Murphy's just wouldn't be the same. For the benefit of everyone who plays and listens, I hope Tuesday Night stays at Murphy's for as long as possible.

Now, almost a year later, it's safe to say that I'm addicted. Since that Tuesday in March last year, I've missed only a handful of weeks (and for the record, all were for really good reasons). Table 8 is in heavy rotation in my CD player. Regular sleep schedules are a thing of the past; I come to work bleary-eyed and groggy regularly on Wednesday mornings. But I don't care. I'll continue to pop into Matt Murphy's every Tuesday Night I can, chat with Jason over a freshly poured Guinness, give a heads-up to some of the regulars, brush by the band on my way back from the bathroom, and in the most unlikely of corners in Boston, take in some of the best live music I have ever had the fortune to hear.

-David Taus