As the commercials are about to run on the Dubai One TV channel, an all too familiar melody plays out, signaling a transfer to the next program or continuation of the current one. The short melody is accentuated by famous lines from Louis Armstrong’s famous ballad, “La Vie En Rose”.

“Hold me close and hold me fast… The magic spell you cast… This is la vie en rose …”

It is a song with strong romantic motif laced with the idea of seeing the world in positive light. The songs title, to be exact, is a French term meaning “life in pink” or “life through rose-tinted glasses.” It’s often used to describe an optimistic outlook on life, seeing the world in a positive and perhaps even idealized way.

The phrase is popularised by the iconic song of the same name by French singer Édith Piaf also known for her famous song Je ne veux pas travailler. While the songs resonate with global audiences for their flowery and laid back attitude towards life, they also cast their long shadows on the cultural and artistic universe forged by the Jazz age. Louis Armstrong’s rendition is by far the most glamorised and famous one that brought the phrase to the mainstream.

When I approached the now defunct “The Sun” newspaper a quarter of a century ago with my maiden article on Jazz, the editor-in-chief was pleasantly surprised by the 24 year old who knocked at his door. It was quite unusual to have an OP-ED column contributor this young and a subject matter quite out of line from my generation’s zeitgeist. We were fresh in university, and the most natural choice of music at the time was hip hop, R&B, and rap. Even my friends were awestruck by how I switched to listening to jazz at that time and even quipped that I should see a shrink. Ignoring the negative attention, I gave serious attention to a jazz article that I visited at the John F. Kennedy library in Addis Ababa University, referred to a book titled Encyclopaedia of Jazz, and read a whole chapter on Armstrong. The article was an instant hit and paved the way for my subsequent article submissions to the Sun and another famous paper from the era, Addis Tribune.

Fast forward 21 years to 2023, my article found its place in the Ethio-Jazz hall of fame when a framed version I autographed and presented to Mulatu Astatkie found its place on the wall of the Africa Jazz Club. Listening to Armstrong’s music and writing an article about him back in 2001 ensured a lifelong adherence to Jazz and helped me brush shoulders with the Ethio Jazz giants, though I am just a fan. Seeing the framed article on the wall of the Africa Jazz club among countless memorabilia brings meaning to my life for a passion pursued and still relished. A regular at the Africa Jazz Club, I am deeply honored to be an esteemed customer, a regular, with friendly acquaintance of Mulatu Astatike, all the musicians from the ASLI band, the club staff, and even the parking attendants that coordinate payment at the gate.

Listening to Louis Armstrong ushered in a life of reflection and a new perspective, even more so augmented when I started visiting the ASLI band at the Africa Jazz Club every Thursday in Ghion Hotel in 2022. An Ethio-jazz band featuring the towering saxophonist Jorga Mesfin, veteran keyboardist Tewodros Mekonnen, and others strengthened my passion for Ethio-jazz, an amazing musical, cultural, and scientific phenomenon still in evolution and likely to bring a great impact to the world musical scene.

Back in 2001 when I wrote an article on Jazz and Blues, much to the dismay of my university roommates who listened to the likes of Notorious B.I.G., Tupac Shakur, and Snoop Dogg, Jazz was as exotic as traveling to Mars. Well, not anymore. Addis is now filled with two or three dozen clubs that pride themselves on playing Jazz music. I have come across quite many vocalists who claim to sing to a Jazz tune while the level of expertise in performing instruments is truly world standard.

In the movie The Terminal, Tom Hanks’ character, Victor Navorski, travels to New York City with the goal of getting an autograph from Benny Golson, a jazz musician. Victor’s father had a collection of autographs from jazz musicians featured in the photo “A Great Day in Harlem,” and Golson was the only one missing. The movie culminates with a scene at The Village Vanguard club where Golson is performing, very much similar to the Africa Jazz Club in Ghion hotel, and Golson signs him the autograph. Navorsky had to endure months of being stranded at the New York JFK airport, denied entry due to suspected dissidence and faulty immigration paperwork, and mistaken for an asylum seeker. His obstinate insistence that he was out to get Golson’s autograph wasn’t in line with the immigration officer’s bias and prejudice, as he came from an unstable Eastern European country where a coup d’état happened unbeknownst to him while flying to the US.

Life had yet another major surprise in store for me as I was driving across Africa Avenue, customarily called Bole Road, and hit a turn to the direction of the Rwanda Embassy last Friday. As I slowly drove, a building unfolded before my eyes with the unmistakable heading at its gate “LA VIE EN ROSE” at the end of the entrance stairway. I had to blink twice to make out the text and ensure it was indeed what I thought I was seeing. I glided to the side of the road and confirmed it was indeed Louis Armstrong’s famous song that bore the name of the building in sight. I took a picture just to make sure my imagination wasn’t playing tricks on me or that I wasn’t seeing a mirage. It was a heavily congested early evening after a heavy downpour, and I was on my way to an appointment, so I didn’t venture to check the hotel.

The next day, a Saturday, was a perfect opportunity to check the venue, so we made our way with my loved one. As I parked my car on the side of the building, I could hear the opening melody of Armstrong’s song ringing in my mind, though no music was being played. My companion was intrigued at my level of excitement and absolute fascination with the place and kept asking me what was going on. I was in no condition to explain, rather than sucking in the vibe and wondering whether I was in a fairy tale or not.

The whole house, starting from the gate to the background of the hotel name, the huge bouquet of flowers and decorative laminates adorning the walls, and the seats were all made of pink, or rose in French. The sheer prevalence of the elegant pink, coupled with the romantic philosophy and the towering presence of the spirit of Louis Armstrong, all sent me into a trance-like euphoria, which my partner jokingly asked me either to shake off or to give a rational explanation. It wasn’t until we sat down under a huge canopy of roses and a handsomely clad young waiter came to take our order that I started explaining. I played Armstrong’s version on YouTube and explained the matter to the background of the music, so that the essence of what I was marveling at sunk in.

Sitting at the hotel, I felt the presence of Armstrong’s spiritual aura as if I met him in person, though he died in 1971, five years before I was even born. However, I feel like I lived with and knew him since I studied about his life and work for nearly three decades now. As we enjoyed our delicious plates of pesto pasta and vegetable sandwiches, which we downed with lemon tea and espresso coffee, I felt Satchmo (Armstrong’s nickname for his wide mouth, notorious beaming grin, and front lip sore from his constant trumpet playing) looking at us from above with his signature big smile, eyes twinkling in his famous knowing, soulful, and kind gaze. The barista was busy behind a pink wall with an italicized lighted text glaringly stating “Express yourself”.

It wasn’t long before I realized that I wasn’t the only one fascinated with the interior of the hotel. Many young people were taking shots in the iconic interior, whether or not familiar with the meaning of the hotel’s name. I was humbled by the insight and taste of whoever owned the hotel, as more details revealed a much deeper fascination with the subject matter. At one corner I saw a motto, saying, “Lights, Camera, Coffee, Action,” implying the owner’s possible fascination with the cinema, like mine was with jazz and Louis Armstrong.I am yet to get a clear idea apart from conjecture, as I am not just a regular and have not heard the real reason from the horse’s mouth, not having known or met the owner. On the other hand, the song’s performance is not limited to Louis Armstrong, since a number of artists have played the song ever since Edith Piaf played the French original in 1945.

The song reportedly became very popular in the United States in 1950, when seven versions reached the Billboard charts by Tony Martin, Paul Weston, Bing Crosby, Ralph Flanagan, Victor Young, and Dean Martin. A later version in 1977 by Grace Jones was also a successful international hit. We also took a moment to take our selfies and capture the romantic and delightful moments before the restaurant closed.

As we finally left for the cold Addis evening, the quiet and narrow moonless night was very similar to a Parisian street where Edith Piaf might have played. As we drove into the night, a more recent French version from 2013 was being played on my mobile YouTube by Melody Gardot. I could not understand the dreamy and fairy tale-like lyrics in French, which my companion did, adding more to the allure of the romantic evening.

It was indeed a rarity to find such a thematic hangout in Addis, especially a dream come true for a jazz fan like me. I don’t think the thrill would be any different if I went to any of the seedy clubs in New Orleans, Chicago, or Harlem where Armstrong played, or even boarded one of the riverboats that shuttle along the Mississippi River where he performed. Another legend, Duke Ellington, graced the stage of Addis Hilton in 1973, jamming with the then much younger Mulatu Astatkie. Ellington’s photo is displayed proudly by the Addis Hilton, citing his performance at the behest of Emperor Haile Selassie I, a mere one year and two years before the two passed away, respectively.

Indeed, Addis has always been a hub for jazz musicians and a long heritage of hall of famers whose works and names deserve praise. Sipping my espresso, or rather expressing myself, at La Vie En Rose, or soaking in the vibe at Africa Jazz Club, or walking in the foyer of Addis Hilton where Duke Ellington trod over 50 years ago, I feel I understand how Victor Navorsky must have felt when he finally met Benny Golson in the Village Vanguard club.

I felt it was time after nearly three decades I recounted the three decades of Jazz heritage that triggered my entry into writing newspaper articles and a lifelong Jazz fan, owing to my introduction to Louis Armstrong by a cassette brought from campus by my younger brother. My brother, Tewodros Balcha, was again the one who suggested I could pitch an article and submit it to “The Sun,” the now-defunct newspaper totally tailored as a duplicate of the British tabloid of the same name and owned by Elias Aweke, to whom I am forever indebted for letting me publish.

Indeed, Armstrong, though he never set foot in beloved Addis Ababa again, cast his towering shadow through my pen. His legacy, spanning over half a century and embroidered with success after success in the US and globally, wasn’t without its share of misery, ups and downs, and sheer willpower in the face of adversity. A lot of misery was hidden behind those big smiles, which he just chose to shrug and wave off, saying, “La Vie en Rose.”

Contributed by Bereket Balcha