THE BUILDING on the corner of McKean and Colorado has stood vacant for more than 25 years--and looks it. The doors are secured by a heavy, padlocked chain. The windows are boarded shut. Even the liquor-license application notice, the one sign of progress visible from the outside, has faded from the familiar, safety-cone orange to a sickly yellow.
Stepping inside, most people would see only the evidence of a quarter-century of disuse--a layer of dust on every surface, holes in the plaster, gaps in the wood floor, pigeons roosting in the second-floor rafters.
Matthew Feldman, on the other hand, sees a bustling neighborhood jazz club.
In one corner, now crowded with debris, is a small bandstand crowded with Philadelphia's best jazz musicians. Or maybe a blues guitarist is playing, or even a classical chamber ensemble.
Those parallel lines of blue tape on the floor near the stairwell reference the well-stocked bar.
The area in the back near the lone window is a kitchen turning out food made from local, sustainably produced ingredients. That space stacked with boxes on the second floor isn't really there at all--it's the balcony where patrons are watching the band.
Feldman has been reimagining this space for almost three years but doesn't seem frustrated that only he has been able to see it for so long. “Some of these architectural and restaurant issues that I'm not an expert on have been challenges," he admitted over lunch at a nearby Mexican restaurant.
“I don't necessarily love researching kitchen equipment. But when I have doubts about this, the part that gets me over the doubts is the music--thinking about all the musicians I know, imagining this space, imagining people who are getting exposed to this music for the first time and loving it. That's what excites me."
Stepping inside, most people would see only the evidence of a quarter-century of disuse--a layer of dust on every surface, holes in the plaster, gaps in the wood floor, pigeons roosting in the second-floor rafters.
Matthew Feldman, on the other hand, sees a bustling neighborhood jazz club.
In one corner, now crowded with debris, is a small bandstand crowded with Philadelphia's best jazz musicians. Or maybe a blues guitarist is playing, or even a classical chamber ensemble.
Those parallel lines of blue tape on the floor near the stairwell reference the well-stocked bar.
The area in the back near the lone window is a kitchen turning out food made from local, sustainably produced ingredients. That space stacked with boxes on the second floor isn't really there at all--it's the balcony where patrons are watching the band.
Feldman has been reimagining this space for almost three years but doesn't seem frustrated that only he has been able to see it for so long. “Some of these architectural and restaurant issues that I'm not an expert on have been challenges," he admitted over lunch at a nearby Mexican restaurant.
“I don't necessarily love researching kitchen equipment. But when I have doubts about this, the part that gets me over the doubts is the music--thinking about all the musicians I know, imagining this space, imagining people who are getting exposed to this music for the first time and loving it. That's what excites me."
