Las Vegas, a town noted for innovations in the entertainment business, has turned the idea of an artist's residency into an art form/endurance competition. In recent years, so-called "nostalgia acts" such as Rod Stewart, Donny and Marie Osmond, Celine Dion, Elton John, Cher, Barry Manilow and Garth Brooks have all set up camp in one hotel or another, churning out hundreds of gigs over the course of long-running and exclusive bookings.

In our part of the world, an impressive residency of another sort took place in the lounge of Mystic's Steak Loft restaurant. From 1991 to 2008, jazz singer Pat Mitchell and her band Standard Time reeled off 17-plus years of every-Wednesday-night shows — an astonishing legacy in any context, but certainly within the parameters of a local club.

That run ended when the recession imposed economic hardships, but Mitchell continued to stay busy both as a solo artist as well as through various gigs with Standard Time, including occasional full-band shows back at the Steak Loft. Each appearance in the Loft resulted in a full-house crowd of longtime fans drawn to Mitchell's gorgeously fluid way with the extensive American Song Book, as well as the intuitive interplay with her band.

Sadly, due to illness, Mitchell has announced an end to her gigs with Standard Time and, fittingly, their farewell show together takes place Wednesday in the Steak Loft Lounge. She thinks it's the appropriate venue and says Steak Loft owner Jon Kodama has been "an angel" over the years, supporting the band's creative freedom and the live-music dynamic. Still, Mitchell hates to give it up.

"I'm having to stop earlier than I wanted to because I just can't do it anymore. I have cancer," says Mitchell, who turns 80 today. "I'm hoping chemo and medicine help overall, but my back and knees give me trouble. If I can sit down and play, it's okay, but it's getting to the gig or climbing the steps to the stage that are too much."

Though the Standard Time membership shifted some over the years, the musicians were always top-level. Pianist/music director Kent Hewett was with Mitchell from the start, and he, bassist Todd Baker and drummer Vinny Pagano will share the stage with Mitchell as the last-ever Standard Time lineup. Among others who've played with Standard Time are Jim Oblon, Bob Kolb, Lou Bocciarelli, George Masso, Joe Barbato, Alan Bernstein, Artie Cabral, Tim Ray, Jack Menna, Steve Davis, Arnie Krakowski, Paul Schmelling, John Turner and Brian Rizzuto.

The Wednesday Steak Loft shows were well known with national artists, too, and folks like Boston guitarist Jon Wheatley, pianists Mike Renzi (Peggy Lee, Mel Torme and Jack Jones) and Norman Simmons (Lena Horne, Ella Fitzgerald, Betty Carter, and Nancy Wilson), guitarist Grey Sargent from Tony Bennett's band, Artie Shaw music director Dick Johnson, and Jim Gwin and Mike Monaghan of the Boston Pops all sat in with Mitchell and Standard Time over the years.

Mitchell is originally from Vermont but lived in Wisconsin and Alaska before deciding to pursue a music career full-time. After visiting New Orleans and being captivated by the music and ambience, she moved there, though, she says, "I had no day job, no gigs, and didn't know anyone. But I was determined."

When New Orleans changed in the 1980s and got a reputation as an increasingly dangerous city, Mitchell relocated to New London and, with a superb Crescent City resume, has stayed busy since. In a long conversation last week, Mitchell shared warm reminiscences, funny and bittersweet anecdotes and gentle observations on lessons learned. Here are excerpts.

On getting that first-ever job in New Orleans at the piano bar in New Orleans' famous Fairmount Hotel — a prime gig where she stayed eight years:

I'd heard of it, of course, but to see that hotel in person, you think, "My God, it's huge and beautiful. And intimidating." But I went in and saw the piano lounge and I thought, "Well, I can do that."

I looked in the phone book and, every day, I called and asked for the gentleman in charge of entertainment, but I couldn't get past the receptionist. That woman! I'll never forget the sound of her voice and her inflections. I thought, "She can't possibly work every day and every night; she's gotta have a day off."

Finally, I called one night and someone paged him. He came to the phone and he had this cultured Austrian accent. I was so scared but I just started talking. He told me to come to his office and I was on Cloud Nine, but I was also terrified. It only got worse when I saw his office. It was so beautiful and I thought, "What have I done?" There was a silver service and crystal glasses — and there sits that damned secretary. When I told her my name, she gave me a look that would stop a clock.

But he was so nice and cultured. He took me downstairs and on the stage with this 12-foot Steinway grand piano. "You come in Monday night," he told me. I had a letter from my old boss at the Valley Inn in Wisconsin. I remember it said, "Pat has no bad habits." He took the letter and had this warm grin on his face. Looking back, I'm sure he was thinking, "Where the hell is the Valley Inn in Menasha, Wisconsin?!"

I showed up on Monday, played and sang everything I knew. At the end of the night, I said, "What do you think?" He said, "I think you got the job."

On Standard Time:

These guys have been so good to me and taken such good care of me over the years. They know what it's about. They live it, just like me. (She names virtually everyone who's ever played in Standard Time.) Kent has been with me the whole time and he's so wonderful. I don't read music. I'm self taught and do it all from memory. So we'll have a new player or someone will sit in and I'll call a song. They'll say, "What key is that in?" "I dunno. Kent?" And, of course, Kent knows (see sidebar for Hewitt's thoughts). I have over 200 songs in my repertoire, and Kent wrote the lead sheets for all of them. I'm going to miss these guys so much. I think we learned a lot together and had so much fun together. They taught me a lot.

On solo shows:

I love playing with the band, but it's a special experience just doing the piano bar because of the people. You're right on top of them and you see everything that's happening. I don't drink and I've never smoked a joint, so if you go to work and you're on top of it, you remember so much.

My first solo gigs were audience singalongs. But I was going through marital trouble and, one night, I asked the maître d to turn the lights down and I just started playing torch songs. It went over really well, so I started mixing standards into the show and pretty soon I wasn't doing singalongs anymore. Before long, I was doing five-hour nights with no break — and I wouldn't repeat one song.

People ask how I remember them all, but it's the songs. When I play and sing a song, each one takes me somewhere. I might remember the 45 spinning on the turntable. "That one had a purple label with silver writing." I could tell you not only the name of the song and the artist but also what was on the flip side.

In the same way, I get to know the people who work in the bar. We spend a lot of time together! I might call a waiter over and say, "When you clear that table, don't pick up the napkin. A guy blew his nose in it."

And the regulars! Boy, so many of them. I love them. I know what songs they want to hear. I usually play their favorite when I see them come in the club. I get to know their families. I even have "regulars" among the tourists. Maybe they only visit once a year, but when they do, they come out. I remember what they want to hear, too.

On the power of music and her commitment at this point to do an occasional solo gig:

Music is all I ever wanted to do and, in the end, what's in it for me if I can't do my music? It's been one hell of a ride and I wouldn't change a thing. You know, I've been doing some single shows at nursing homes, and that's right down my alley. They love the songs and I love that they appreciate the music.

One place I've been playing has mostly Alzheimer's patients. This is a tough job, but it's also rewarding because you realize often the only thing they remember IS the music. I'll be playing and suddenly someone will start to move their hands or feet in time, or maybe their lips move as some of the lyrics come back to them. They're connecting and who knows what memories they're reliving — but they're happy. When the gig's over, they don't remember you've been there, but for those isolated moments, you realize the power of music in a way that's so big.

So many times in my life someone would say, "When are you gonna get a job? When are you gonna go to work?" (She laughs.) I'll tell you. I've worked! I played 58 straight days at Foxwoods — that was a day gig — and then, depending on which evening it was, I'd go play in Old Saybrook, Norwich, Providence or the Steak Loft. Occasionally someone would ask, "You need a sub or a day off?" And I'd say, "Why? I live for this. I've made so many friends of regulars, and I've had so many good times. It's the music that keeps you going. I don't have to look far to find the music. It's in my heart.

If you go

Who: Pat Mitchell and Standard Time

What: Farewell show

When: 6-9 p.m. Wednesday

Where: Steak Loft, 27 Coogan Blvd., Mystic

How much: Free

For more information: (860) 536-2661

View from the piano

Pianist Kent Hewitt, known throughout New England and beyond for his jazz prowess, has played with Pat Mitchell since their Salute Cafe gigs in New London in the late '80s. He was also in Standard Time for the band's entire run. In an interview last week, Hewitt spoke fondly and wistfully about his relationship with Mitchell.

"In jazz, there's a special relationship between the singer and the pianist," he says. "Pat's a special musician because she's a special person. Her way of expressing lyrics is up there with Billie Holiday. Pat can read an audience in a second and uses that for the best reason: to give back to them. At the same time, she had so many great songs for any emotion and she'd use that. We called certain songs 'the jugulars' because that's what we were going for when we played them."

Hewitt offers a few tidbits about his time with Mitchell:

Mitchell's oft-expressed mantra: "You got to live it, to play it!"

Beyond the stage: "Pat is a true musician's singer. She spent so much time at other musicians' gigs because she believed in supporting the artists and live music."

A memorable gig among hundreds: "The Westin Hotel in Providence, where (former mayor) Buddy Cianci used to show up. He loved Pat."

Funniest situation: "We were playing a nursing home in Cromwell, and they started vacuuming."

Putting Standard Time in his personal perspective: "We were an institution. Mystic might be a small town, but this was a special band. World class. Pat didn't sing the songs. She lived them, every time we played them, she was feeling it as though it was the first time."

If you go

Who: Pat Mitchell and Standard Time</p><p>What: Farewell show</p><p>When: 6-9 p.m. Wednesday</p><p>Where: Steak Loft, 27 Coogan Blvd., Mystic</p><p>How much: Free</p><p>For more information: (860) 536-2661