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The Café Central, a jazz club located just off Madrid's Puerta del Sol — Spain's "Kilometer Zero" — has been going out of business for more than forty years. And now, it finally might. Opened in the early 1980s during Spain's cultural reopening after Franco's dictatorship, Café Central became a rare kind of space: part jazz club, part café, part public living room. Bands were booked for full weeks — seven nights at a time — a model that favored musical development over turnover, and community over efficiency. It was never a good business. But it was a great room. For nearly thirty years, my father, jazz musician Ben Sidran, and I returned every November to play there. Over time, the ritual turned into a tradition, and the tradition turned into a legacy — not just for us, but for audiences who marked their calendars around those weeks. Café Central also reflected the city around it. For years, Madrid felt quietly provincial — less touristy, more inward-facing than other European capitals. But that changed. Tourism surged. Rents rose. The economics shifted. In 2018, new owners took over the club. The booking model changed. Week-long residencies largely disappeared, replaced by shorter runs and double seatings. The future arrived, whether anyone wanted it or not. And yet, something endured. Café Central wasn't just a place where music happened. It was where relationships formed — between musicians and audiences, between locals and visitors, between generations. It taught us that culture survives not because it's profitable, but because people show up, night after night, year after year. As Café Central prepares to close — or possibly move — it raises a familiar question: when a place disappears, what actually goes with it? The answer, I think, is never just the room. It's the memory of how it felt to be there — and the responsibility to carry that feeling forward.
Featuring conversations with my father, Ben Sidran and my mother, Judy Sidran, this episode explores music, memory, and the fragile ecosystems that keep culture alive.
www.third-story.com www.leosidran.substack.com www.wbgo.org/podcast/the-third-story
By Leo Sidran4.9
172172 ratings
The Café Central, a jazz club located just off Madrid's Puerta del Sol — Spain's "Kilometer Zero" — has been going out of business for more than forty years. And now, it finally might. Opened in the early 1980s during Spain's cultural reopening after Franco's dictatorship, Café Central became a rare kind of space: part jazz club, part café, part public living room. Bands were booked for full weeks — seven nights at a time — a model that favored musical development over turnover, and community over efficiency. It was never a good business. But it was a great room. For nearly thirty years, my father, jazz musician Ben Sidran, and I returned every November to play there. Over time, the ritual turned into a tradition, and the tradition turned into a legacy — not just for us, but for audiences who marked their calendars around those weeks. Café Central also reflected the city around it. For years, Madrid felt quietly provincial — less touristy, more inward-facing than other European capitals. But that changed. Tourism surged. Rents rose. The economics shifted. In 2018, new owners took over the club. The booking model changed. Week-long residencies largely disappeared, replaced by shorter runs and double seatings. The future arrived, whether anyone wanted it or not. And yet, something endured. Café Central wasn't just a place where music happened. It was where relationships formed — between musicians and audiences, between locals and visitors, between generations. It taught us that culture survives not because it's profitable, but because people show up, night after night, year after year. As Café Central prepares to close — or possibly move — it raises a familiar question: when a place disappears, what actually goes with it? The answer, I think, is never just the room. It's the memory of how it felt to be there — and the responsibility to carry that feeling forward.
Featuring conversations with my father, Ben Sidran and my mother, Judy Sidran, this episode explores music, memory, and the fragile ecosystems that keep culture alive.
www.third-story.com www.leosidran.substack.com www.wbgo.org/podcast/the-third-story

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