new orleans / jazzfest report

@Lefty wrote:

Very cool, Ray. Who else did you see & like? How’s “Nawlins” looking?

I can’t answer Lefty’s questions in abbreviated form. So, it’s either a couple of words — or this. Apologies in advance for the long, enthusiastic account….

I’ll defer to New Orleaneans regarding how the city is doing. But from a skewed visitor’s perspective (someone who’s only seen the city once a year since Katrina) things did seem a lot busier this year — even outside the french quarter. This year in mid-City and Gentilly, I saw few FEMA trailers, fewer houses with dumpsters/piles of debris out front, and it’s getting a bit harder to find those sad Xs spray-painted on Katrina-flooded homes. I have no illusions — no doubt there is still great need and desperate folks, but it seems a good part of the city is back on it’s feet. One big vote of confidence is that Rock ‘N Bowl, which lost it’s first floor in Katrina, just opened up in a new location — same fun joint with amazing Zydeco and brass bands + bowling alley, just bigger and fresher! (3 visits this trip; saw Bonerama, Dr. John, Lil’ Buck Sinegal, Buckwheat Zydeco, and…. and….)

On to the music: At Jazzfest i usually avoid the big name performances at the larger stages (though i made a wise exception for NEIL!). I try to get up close at the smaller stages for the great local brass bands (Mahogony, and Soul Rebels are faves), or hang at the Fais Do-do zydeco stage for the incredible cajun bands, or just dip in and out depending on the crowds. A lot of outstanding N.O. musicians also move from stage to stage, and you catch them again and again at the Fest and around town. Shamarr Allen is a rising star trumpet player, incorporating diverse music into his own hip-hop/funk/traditional sound. At the Jazz tent I caught him doing a very cool brass version of Nirvana’s “Smells Like Teen Spirit.” I love the way music is constantly re-interpreted here — and invented — in a non-stop frenzy.

Other brass treats: Trombone Shorty and Orleans Ave, Rebirth Brass Band, and Bonerama (another fav — caught ’em 3 times). The Instruments A Comin’ benefit at Tipitina’s was an amazing night that wouldn’t end (Walter “wolfman” washington, Ivan Neville, Trombone Shorty, Rebirth, Big Sam’s Funky Nation…). And I dug the Bocherie lunch truck that showed up at 2AM (had a well-balanced meal: pulled pork po-boy, grit fries, collard greens, and free boudin balls just for waiting patiently in line!)

Emmylou was wonderful at the Gentilly stage with a small, fairly rapt crowd; it definitely made my first weekend to hear her sing Lucinda’s “Sweet Old World” (as well as “Pancho and Lefty”). Also at the big stages, I got to hear some of Wilco and Dave Matthews. I loved a performance by Patty Griffin with a small, more intimate crowd at the zydeco stage. Patty also joined Emmylou on a few songs the day before.

Another highlight was Mavis Staples at the Gospel Tent. She did a great gospel/soul version of “For What it’s worth” (which made me contrast it with Lucinda’s), “Wade in the Water,” and civil rights era songs. She performed a spoken word account (with bass and keyboard) of her father “Pops” Staples meeting Martin Luther King and remembered him saying of Dr. King, “If he can preach it, we can sing it.”

Really enjoyed Beausoleil avec Micheal Doucet (a two-step dance party right in front of me!), and the Subdudes — one of my all-time louisiana faves; always a pleasure. (i can’t understand why these great musicians haven’t had more success).

Wynton Marsalis put together an incredible 2 hr. performance with African tribal drummers and musicians combined with his formal Jazz at Lincoln Center orchestra — what a contrast (musicians in black tie — and in tribal robes). It revealed musical connections and origins brilliantly. I thought I’d just stay for a part of this performance, but was so drawn in I couldn’t leave. (A typical situation.)

I couldn’t see it all, of course, but I did a respectable job over 2 wknds this year. Unfortunately, I let the Drive by Truckers drive right by me, and passed up Bonnie Raitt (crowds were too intense for me to put up with, even for Bonnie).

Between Fest weekends, the Ponderosa Stomp, which features “lost legends” of rockabilly, swamp pop, and R&B, was a hoot as always; only went to one of the two nights this year, but was happy to see Little Freddy King do his famous “Chicken Dance”. He’s a blues guitarist who is a genuine throwback to another, simpler time (and a really decent guy — he graciously sat for a picture with my son a year ago at a show in NJ).

Also, I love checking in at the Louisiana Music Factory, the funky old record store on Decatur, for in-store performances, which take place all the time around jazzfest. Just grab a $2 Abita draft next door, and bring it back to the store for great music up close and personal. The best place in town to hear and buy N.O. and Louisiana music (and t-shirts and posters….). Worth a pilgramage on its own.

At nights, nothing beats the experience of a brass band playing in Donna’s. Went 3 times to
this tiny bar where there the musicians and their family usually outnumber the bar patrons; the rice and beans or charlie burgers are a bonus — as is Donna, or the bartender showing you family pictures.

As always happens, this new orleans trip was filled with “small” but wonderful surprises. Here’s one: The morning after the first weekend’s festival, I wander into Jackson Square, and then for some reason into the beautiful St. Louis Cathedral. A funeral is going on, and I slip into a back pew. I hear a soloist sing Amazing Grace in this historic church. Maybe i’m a little hungover and tired, but this non-catholic agnostic gets goosebumps and moist around the eyes. So I slip outside, and am thinking about what a place this is, where the African American story is all mixed up with French outcasts, the history of the Spanish and Haiti and Cuba, and how there might not be any of the music we know today without the extraordinary coincidences that made New Orleans….I hear the ferry to Algiers wail its parting whistle, a freight train rolls by, and the funeral is over. And as people emerge from the cathedral into the sun, some shedding tears, there is this single clarinet player in the middle of the square, standing up playing a jazz solo that resounds off the Cabildo and chuch all the way to the Mississippi, and it sends shivers to my bones.

What a place.