" data-original-title="" title="">Nick Hempton played two sets at a park in Dobbs Ferry, NY, a striking location right on the Hudson River. It was a comfortably warm summer evening. Families sat on lawn chairs and blankets, noshed on goodies, applauded the sounds of Hempton's quartet and laughed at the dry wit of his monologues. It's easy to look back and wax nostalgic for the freedom of movement, the abundance of pleasant interactions in a public space, and marvel at the ease of those carefree hours.

Fast-forward to the present day, the live streaming of Hempton's trio from "a secret underground bunker" somewhere below Manhattan was in some ways a dissimilar, yet no less of an enriching experience. In the midst of a pandemic that continues to spread like wildfire, it almost seemed natural to view/hear Hempton's trio on a computer from the safety of home. The notion of relative security extended to the scene on the screen. A somewhat small, windowless space captured by a single camera angle was perhaps an apt representation of our present reality. The room wasn't so much claustrophobic, as sealed off from human contact. D��cor was comprised of a wildly diverse array of objects, ranging from a life-sized statue, to an American flag, to a bright yellow, child-sized table that Hempton sometimes used as a seat. The absence of an in-person audience didn't present a problem. At one point between selections Hempton quipped, "I assume you are all applauding wildly at home."

It should come as no surprise that jazz thrives during a pandemic in "a kind of bat cave" every bit as well as in a picturesque riverfront setting on a near perfect evening. Several months of relative inactivity have not diminished Hempton's abilities as a bandleader, soloist and master of ceremonies. The group featured his alto sax, organist