Vortex

You'll find yourself squeezed into Gillett Square on a Friday night, climbing narrow stairs into a basement room that's seen some things. The air's thick with cigarette smoke (well, the memory of it), cheap beer, and the kind of earnest musicianship you don't get everywhere. The crowd's a proper mix: serious jazz heads nursing their pints, couples on dates, mates just after a good night out. The stage is basically in your lap, which means you're either enchanted or wondering why you paid £8 for a pint.