Jazz without Liquor

Jonathan Perry, Boston Globe

The applause for Turkuaz, a white-hot Berklee funk band, had barely died down inside Cafe 939 when its singers, Shane Allen, an 18-year-old freshman, and Jennifer Hirsh, a 21-year-old senior, found themselves beaming (in matching gold lamè) on Boylston Street.

“Honestly, it's about time," said Hirsh, a music business major, of Cafe 939, the mostly student-run, all-ages music venue and coffeehouse that opened at 939 Boylston St. in December and launched its live music program this month. "I've been here for four years and they've really needed a venue like this. The [Berklee] Performance Center is difficult to get involved with unless you audition for a big show there. And the sound was better here than at any of the venues we've played."

Allen, a voice student from Los Angeles, nodded her head in agreement: "They're running it like a real venue."

And so they are - "they" being 15 Berklee work-study students plus event manager Jacqueline Indrisano and engineer Lauren Caso, a Berklee graduate who handled light and sound for the likes of Aerosmith and the Who during the eight years she worked for promoter Don Law.

Most of this month's shows at the club - where everything from booking bands to working the box office is handled by the students - have sold out quickly. Programming, which has included a mix of internationally known artists such as jazz saxophonist Miguel Zenón (a Berklee alum) as well as Berklee undergraduate groups like Turkuaz, runs Wednesdays through Sundays between 8 p.m. and 11 p.m. Meanwhile, "The New Brew," a free lunchtime concert series showcasing student performers, runs Tuesdays and Thursdays from 1-2 p.m.

"This is the space everyone's been waiting for," said event coordinator Sarah DeMatos, a 22-year-old aspiring singer from Mattapoisett. "You can [be under] 21 and still feel welcome here and get the club experience. We're trying to bring awesome music to anybody with open ears."

Tonight, Brooklyn indie-folk duo the Fiery Furnaces is scheduled to play the 200 person-capacity room. The Click Five headline the club tomorrow night. Because Cafe 939 does not have a liquor license, says Berklee talent buyer Kenny Czadzeck, "it puts extra pressure on us to book really good talent. Unlike other clubs who might just book a bar band because they know they'll sell a lot of liquor, we don't have that option."

Indrisano, a veteran of Boston's nightlife who used to book the legendary Rat in Kenmore Square, describes her job as that of "fairy godmother." She feeds off the youthfully endless energy of her students, as well as the bustling atmosphere of Cafe 939.

"I'm the luckiest girl on earth," said Indrisano. "I've been to so many shows in the city and nothing aggravates me more [than] when I'm trying to listen and people are turning their backs on the show and starting their own party, and not even paying attention to the band. Here the music is the show and not the cocktails."

Berklee president Roger H. Brown is impressed with how students have run both the Cafe 939 club and the coffeehouse attached to the venue. "I'm in love with it so I'm a little irrational," said Brown, who regularly drops by the cafe. "The dream now is to get great [musicians] in here to do clinics and workshops. If we play our cards right, maybe on a night they don't have a show, they'll come over."

Too often, said Brown, "the star musician is in this hermetic bubble and goes back to the Ritz after their concert. Maybe we can get them to swing by here instead, and do a short set."

Czadzeck believes a crucial component of Cafe 939's success boils down to that old axiom: location, location, location. "There's lots of nightlife around here but there's no live entertainment, music or otherwise," said Czadzeck.

"So, in addition to us being the only all-ages club in the city, even if you are over 21, you can come here, see an early show, and still go out on the town. With the foot traffic outside, people see the party going on inside and want to come check it out."

Indeed, on the balmy spring evening that Turkuaz performed, the sleek but warm red-walled room filled up fast. No one bothered sitting on the couches that lined a wall of windows looking out onto Boylston Street, opting instead to crowd close to the performers. A phalanx of strategically placed stage lights flooded the band, soaked the sumptuous red velvet curtain stage backdrop, and bounced off the brass of the horn section.

By the time Turkuaz tore into an exuberant, radically reworked version of the Beatles' "We Can Work It Out" - sounding like Chic crossed with the Average White Band - the dance floor had become one massive groove, rippling with energy and smiles.

"It's a shame," said Lily O'Brien, a senior music business major, "that we have to graduate."