Minor Wisdom

The nutcracker sweet

This picture, spotted on Library Chronicles, is too funny not to share.

You can buy one of these gems here.

God speed, Mildred Loving

Every student of constitutional law knows about Loving v. Virginia, the Supreme Court decision striking down laws against interracial marriage. Well, Mildred Loving, the petitioner in Loving v. Va., died last Friday. We should commemorate her as we commemorated Rosa Parks.

(Hat tip to Greg Peters.)

After all, it is the Jazz Fest

I didn’t go to the Fair Grounds today planning to see mostly jazz. But as usual, the best moments at Jazz Fest are unplanned.

On arriving at around 11:30 or so, I headed for the Jazz Tent and caught most of Lillian Boutté’s set. She is a wonderful jazz singer with great stage presence. Something I noticed about the Jazz Tent: the amplifiers were not all set at 11. Most of them seemed to be set at 9. You could hear the music fine, but your ears weren’t bleeding. Something else I noticed: the audience dug the music. I suppose that’s typical of a jazz audience.

After Lillian’s set, I headed over to the Economy Hall tent and caught the last part of the Treme Brass Band’s set. They’re a traditional New Orleans street-music band. This means their style is as traditional as New Orleans itself, and as up to date as the music currently bubbling up from the streets.

I then went to Congo Square, to listen to the Dirty Dozen Brass Band and to contemplate the day’s most difficult choice: remain at Congo Square for the Dirty Dozen’s entire set or head to the Gentilly Stage for Henry Butler. The Dirty Dozen did everything they could to make the choice even more difficult. They hit the stage playing their asses off and never let up for the 20 minutes or so that I was there.

As hard as it was to leave, I knew that I had to see Henry Butler. So after the Dirty Dozen’s second number, I tore myself away. It was the right choice. I’ve heard some great piano players at Jazz Fest, including Dr. John, Marcia Ball, and (most recently) Eddie Bo, Billy Joel, and Stevie Wonder. Outside of Jazz Fest, I’ve heard Fats Domino and Allen Toussaint live. But Henry Butler is special. The best way I can describe him is this: Years from now, when he’s passed on, those who survive him will talk about how they once heard Henry Butler play, the same way that folks today talk about how they once heard Professor Longhair play.

After Henry Butler, it was either Marcia Ball at Gentilly or John Mooney in the Blues Tent. The tie breaker was that I’ve seen Marcia many times, but had never seen John Mooney. So I decided to see him.

When I listen to John Mooney, I’m reminded of Son House. You can tell that he spent years absorbing the likes of Son House and Robert Johnson, to the point that they altered his DNA. Today, John Mooney does not imitate the old masters. He plays in his own style, but his style reminds you of the old masters. Anyway, John and his band, Bluesiana, played one hell of a set.

I decided to end the day in the same venue that I started: the Jazz Tent, where Irvin Mayfield and the New Orleans Jazz Orchestra were performing. Irvin Mayfield is probably the premier trumpet player in New Orleans. But for this set, he functioned mainly as the leader of a band full of virtuosos (though he did take a couple of solos). They put on a great show.

A few words about today’s eats: beignets and iced cafe au lait, crabmeat po boy, file gumbo, and barbecued turkey wing with white beans and cole slaw.

I hope that some folks outside New Orleans who’ve been reading these posts and who love music will consider spending their 2009 vacation at Jazz Fest. Imagine spending 10 days away from the ordinary grind, immersing yourself in great music and great food.

An editorial

After Ashey Morris’s death, one of the New Orleans bloggers (I forget which one) suggested that every NOLA blogger post something with the word “fuck” during the month following Ashley’s death. I missed the deadline by a day or two, but something I saw today at Jazz Fest gives me the feeling that I’m about to channel the Big Guy. So here goes.

This is a message to the boorish bleacher-dwellers in the Blues Tent during John Mooney’s performance today—the ones who couldn’t shut the fuck up for so much as five seconds while a living breathing treasure and bandmates were playing their asses off on stage. It’s the Jazz Fest, not the fucking Yack Fest. While you’re sitting there not paying attention to the music, there are blues lovers standing outside the tent in the sun, digging and dancing to the music. Seeing as how you went to all the trouble to snag a nice seat inside the tent for John Mooney’s set, kindly take the next step, shut the fuck up, and listen to the goddamned music. If you can’t manage that, take it outside, and let someone who wants to listen to the music have the bench space.

But you yacking turds, stinky as you are, aren’t the worst bleacher occupants I saw today. No, the worst of the worst, the one who looks up to pond scum, is the classless, clueless asswipe with the sideburns and yellow shirt who couldn’t bother himself to applaud even once during Mooney’s entire set—not even after the finale. Message to Mr. Classless Clueless: There is a contract between musician and audience. The musician’s job is to put some heart and soul into the performance. Your end of the bargain is to show some appreciation. If you don’t dig the music, then shuffle your indifferent ass to one of the 10 other venues at Jazz Fest. If, on the other hand, you dig the music enough to hang around, then your obligation at the end of a song—and especially at the end of the performance—is to applaud. Or cheer, or whistle, or make some other audible gesture of appreciation.

Do you know what “polite applause” is? It’s what people do when the don’t like the music but don’t want to insult the musician. When you couldn’t even manage polite applause today, you insulted the band. If you dislike the music so much that you can’t even manage polite applause, then what in the  everlovin’ fuck are you doing taking up valuable space in the Blues Tent? Get your apathetic ass out of there and make some room for someone who appreciates the music.

My name is Ray Ward, and I feel sure that Ashley would have approved this message.

Sonny Landreth, “Native Stepson”

Sonny Landreth is playing at Jazz Fest tomorrow. I won’t get to see him, so I’ll console myself with this 2007 performance of “Native Stepson”.

Raindrops keep falling on my head

So how was Stevie Wonder’s performance yesterday at Jazz Fest? I was going to say it was worth seeing, even though it bogged down in the middle. But Times-Picayune music writer Keith Spera says it better than I can. On top of that, you had to endure the rain, the mud, and the multitude. But it was worth it to hear Stevie live, performing “Love’s in Need of Love Today,” “Too High,” “Living for the City,” “Golden Lady,” “Higher Ground,” “Sir Duke,” “Isn’t She Lovely,” “Boogie On, Reggae Woman,” “Signed, Sealed, Delivered,” and “Superstition.”

The best set I saw yesterday was by Trombone Shorty and Orleans Avenue. Their music is somewhere between funky jazz and jazzy funk. They are a high-energy group bent on pleasing the crowd, and they did.

Also seen yesterday: the Gospel Inspiration of Boutte, 007, Theryl “Houseman” deClouet, and D.L. Menard and the Louisiana Aces. For the hungries, I had the duck po boy, some crawfish bread, and some meaty white beans. The duck po boy was delicious, but in my book, the cochon de lait po boy is still the champ—and $3 cheaper ($8 for the duck; $5 for the cochon de lait).

Today will be an adventure. As Suzanne and I were waking up, the rain outside was pouring, and the thunder was loud. Right now (10:23 a.m.), the rain has slacked off. The track at the Fair Grounds is surely muddy, and the infield muddier. But then, today’s lineup includes these folks:

• The Dirty Dozen Brass Band (1:50, Congo Square)
• Henry Butler (2:15, Gentilly)
• Aaron Neville’s Gospel Soul (3:25, Gospel Tent)
• Spencer Bohren (3:35, Allison Miner)
• the subdudes (3:35, Acura)
• John Mooney (3:45, Blues Tent)
• Marcia Ball (3:45, Gentilly)
• Bobby McFerrin and Chick Corea (3:45, Jazz Tent)
• Jimmy Buffett (5:30, Acura)
• Kenny Wayne Shepherd (5:30, Blues Tent)
• Irvin Mayfield and the New Orleans Jazz Orchestra (5:35, Jazz Tent)
• Joe Krown (6:00, Allison Miner)

An ordinary Thursday at Jazz Fest

Today was the first Jazz Fest Thursday since Katrina. Thursdays were relatively low-key days. Today seemed to fit that mold. Here’s a short account of one attendee’s low-key day:

• Arrive some time after 11:00 a.m. Go first to the Gospel Tent to sit down and apply sun screen. While there, be treated to an uplifting performance by Charles Jackson & the Jackson Travelers.
• After the Jackson Travelers set, stock up the carry-around cooler with beer and snag some lunch: today, boiled crawfish. Go back to the Gospel Tent to suck the heads, pinch the tails, and listen to another uplifting performance, this one by the Melody Clouds.
• After the Melody Clouds finish, catch a little bit of the TBC Brass Band at the Jazz & Heritage Stage before heading to the Acura stage for Bonerama.
• See kick-ass one-hour set by Bonerama.
• After Bonerama, walk to the Gentilly Stage at the other end of the Fair Grounds, and arrive just in time for the start of Kermit Ruffins & the Barbecue Swingers. On the way, pick up a Creole stuffed bread.
• As Kermit finished, be unaware that the best was yet to come. Go get a quick bite of food, then return to the Gentilly Stage for Randy Newman.
• Listen to Randy Newman deliver perhaps his finest performance ever at the Jazz Fest. The highlight of the day.
• Go home relatively early (6:00). On the way out, catch a little bit of Widespread Panic’s cover of Earl King’s classic “Big Chief.”

Of course Randy Newman did “Louisiana 1927,” and of course it drew some tears. Here’s a video of Randy doing the same song in Stuttgart.

So what is this “Christian” thing all about?

It’s not about people who abuse children. It’s especially not about people who are called “religious” abusing children. It’s about a child who undergoes such abuse and turns into an adult with no bitterness. Like Sr. Mary Martha’s mom.

 

Maybe this shows why heaven belongs to children. E.g. Matthew 18:3, 19:14; Mark 10:14.

No demons

“Jesus broke all the social etiquette in terms of relating to people and bringing people into relationship with himself. He acknowledged no barriers or human divisions ... no category of sinners from whom he would isolate himself.... I am a follower of Jesus. That’s what I’ve called myself for decades. And that is a radical faith that refuses to define any human being or group of human beings as being outside God’s grace.”

— Rev. James Lawson (interview by Leonard Pitts).

Take a vacation

One of my chronic failings is failing to take a real vacation. Since passing the bar and beginning my legal career, I’ve never spent a solid two weeks away from work. And I’ve never traveled for pleasure—to me, “travel” and “pleasure” are opposites. I don’t mind being someplace else, but the process of getting there is so much of a pain that, to me, it’s a barrier.

And then I look around at where I am—my New Orleans—and think why go someplace else when there’s so much sensuousness here? Where else can you have your senses of sight, smell, taste, and hearing as gratified as in New Orleans?

Still, time off is a good thing, I discovered last weekend. I had been to Jazz Fest many times before, but that was the first time I spent three solid consecutive days there: three days devoted solely to eating, sleeping, and going to Jazz Fest. A vacation without travel. It did my mental health a world of good.

Starting tomorrow, I get to do it again: Thursday through Saturday will be devoted to Jazz Fest. (Can’t go on Sunday, unfortunately.) So here’s the tentative plan.

Thursday has three acts in the middle of the afternoon that I hope to see: Bonerama (rock-and-roll trombones!) at 1:25, Kermit Ruffins and the Barbecue Swingers at 2:35, and Randy Newman at 4:00. Before 1:25 and after 4:00, I’ll play it by ear.

On Friday, Stevie Wonder is scheduled for 5:15. Before that, I’ve circled D.L. Menard and the Louisiana Aces (2:10, Fais Do Do) and Trombone Shorty (3:50, Congo Square). The rest of the day, again, I will play by ear.

Saturday presents some difficult choices. Early in the afternoon, the Dirty Dozen Brass Band (1:50, Congo Square) competes with Henry Butler (2:15, Gentilly). Later in the afternoon, at 3:25, Aaron Neville is doing a gospel set in the Gospel Tent. He’ll be competing with Spencer Bohren (3:35, Lagniappe Stage), Marcia Ball (3:45, Gentilly), and John Mooney (3:45, Blues Tent). To close out the day, I’ll probably catch Kenny Wayne Shepherd in the Blues Tent. Other folks playing at the same time as Kenny include Jimmy Buffett, Diana Krall, and Irvin Mayfield.

Master class

For all you guitar players out there, here’s an interesting video of Sonny Landreth playing “Gone Pecan.” The camera operator focuses on Sonny’s right hand, so you can watch Sonny’s finger-picking technique. This reveals how he does what he does, but it doesn’t reveal how he makes it look so damned easy.

One dilemma solved

Jazz Fest can pose some difficult choices. Case in point: This Saturday, Marcia Ball is playing the Gentilly Stage at 3:45, while John Mooney is playing the Blues Tent, also at 3:45. What to do?

This dilemma has an easy solution: Catch Marcia Ball this Wednesday evening in Lafayette Square; she’ll probably take the stage around 6:00. Then on Saturday, see John Mooney at Jazz Fest.

Jazz Fest Day 3: “It’s Raining” and “Feet, Don’t Fail Me Now”

Another monsoon at Jazz Fest today. Another great time.

I made a point to get there early today to catch all of Little Freddie King’s set (11:30–12:30, Blues Tent). I have a couple of his records, but I’d never seen him live before. I learned that, besides being one of the last of the real-deal country blues guitarists left (in the tradition of R.L. Burnside and T. Model Ford), Little Freddie is quite the showman. No duckwalk, but he does have a bit of a Chuck Berry streak.

After Little Freddie, I had nothing in particular planned. So I grabbed a crawfish pie at one of the food booths and wandered over to Congo Square, and listened to some salsa Cubana courtesy of AsheSon. Good stuff.

After Ashe Son, it was a short walk to the Gentilly Stage, where Rockin’ Dopsie Jr. and the Zydeco Twisters were playing. I’ve seen them many times, and they always put on a great show. Today was no different.

But during their set, the sky darkened and the rain started falling. By the time they finished, it was pouring. It got so bad that they had to cut the 2:30 set short at the Acura Stage. It was the Voice of the Wetlands All-Stars, featuring Tab Benoit and some of his friends. As I arrived, Tab was announcing that they weren’t going to get to play another song.

So I wandered around looking for music. There was music in the Blues Tent and the Gospel Tent, but both were jammed. Fortunately, I had no particular need to get under a tent. On arriving this morning, I bought a Jazz Fest rain poncho, and I’m happy to report that the thing worked pretty well. It was a bit pricey at $35, but it’s heavy-duty material, not a glorified Hefty bag. It should last for years.

I found some music at the Jazz & Heritage Stage, where the Midnight Disturbers Brass Band was kicking ass. The rain was pouring, and the area in front of the stage ranged from quagmire (the relatively dry spots) to lake. By “lake,” I mean knee-deep brown water. But none of that mattered. The band was smoking as the stage crew continually squeegeed the water off the stage. In front of the stage, everyone was dancing—good thing, because if you planted your feet too long in one spot, you’d sink in the mud.

After the Midnight Disturbers, the rain slacked off a bit, so I went to the Acura Stage to see whether Irma Thomas would perform as scheduled. She did, and as usual, she delivered.

After Irma’s set, my choices looked like this:

• Elvis Costello and Allen Toussaint, 4:55 at the Gentilly Stage.
• Delbert McClinton, 5:30 at the Blues Tent.
• Al Green, 5:45 at Congo Square.
• Hot 8 Brass Band, 5:45 at the Jazz & Heritage Stage.
• BeauSoleil avec Michael Doucet, 5:55 at Fais Do Do.

Also playing at that time was Faith Hill’s husband, Tim McGraw, a Louisiana boy who’s made a name for himself in country music. But country pop ain’t my cup of tea.

The tie breaker was my poor feet, which begged me to find a place to sit down; poor things hadn’t done that much dancing since last year’s Jazz Fest. So I took them to the Blues Tent and found a seat at the top of the bleachers in the back. I took off my soaking wet shoes (ahhhh!), took off and wrung out my soaking wet socks , hung them on the back rail to drip-dry a little bit, opened up my little cooler, retrieved my last beer, sat back, and listened to Delbert McClinton and his band deliver a solid set. A great way to top of an exhausting three-day weekend.

The second weekend starts this Thursday; the lineup includes Bonerama, Widespread Panic, Kermit Ruffins & the Barbecue Swingers, Randy Newman, and dozens more. Friday will feature John Hammond, Trombone Shorty, John Prine, Art Neville, and Stevie Wonder. Saturday will feature the Dixie Cups, the subdudes, Charmaine Neville, Henry Butler, Marcia Ball, Diana Krall, Bobby McFerrin and Chick Corea, Irvin Mayfield, Kenny Wayne Shepherd, John Mooney, Jimmy Buffett, and many, many others.

Unfortunately I won’t be able to attend next Sunday. So someone else will have to go to Blues Heaven and report on the performances by (deep breath now): Sonny Landreth, Keb’ Mo’, Santana, Derek Trucks, the Radiators, the Rebirth Brass Band, Snooks Eaglin, and the Neville Brothers’ post-Katrina homecoming.

Rained real hard and it rained for a real long time

Once again, my day at Jazz Fest did not go as planned.

It started off nominal. Sonny Bourg & the Bayou Blues Band were good. Wayne Toups and Zydecajun were great. But toward the end of Wayne’™s set, a few scattered rain drops started falling. And I congratulated myself for tossing an umbrella in my carry-around beach bag.

At 2:30, I had to make my choice between Walter “œWolfman” Washington and Eddie Bo. The tie breaker was the venue: Eddie was playing at the Fais Do Do stage, a more intimate setting than Congo Square, where Walter was playing. So I went with Eddie.

During Eddie’€™s set, the scattered raindrops turned into a steady drizzle. Out came the umbrellas and rain ponchos. Eddie played a great set. But after the first song, they had to move stuff toward the back of the stage to get it out of the rain, including Eddie’™s piano and the monitor speakers.

Meanwhile at the Acura stage, the entire schedule was being moved up. Dr. John, who was supposed to start at 3:35, started at 3:15. By this time, the rain was steady and the track was getting muddy. The good Doctor was okay. He brought out Shannon McNally for a couple of songs, and I’m glad he did; I’™d heard enough about her to be curious.

After Dr. John, the rain let up a bit, so I went to one of the food areas and snagged a Cuban sandwich. While there, I heard the sound of an unbelievable brass band from across the infield. It was the New Birth Brass Band. So I followed my ears toward that stage. And New Birth played the best set I heard today—”quite possibly the best set I have ever heard at Jazz Fest. And the crowd was into it, everyone dancing, everyone into the call and response. The rain, meanwhile, was turning into a downpour.

The rain divided the world into two groups of people. There were those for whom the rain washed out their Jazz Fest; they were leaving in droves, some of them doubtlessly disappointed at the weather’™s non-cooperation. And there were those for whom rain is part of Jazz Fest, as sorrow and death are part of life. They were trying to stay dry as best they could, with mostly ineffective umbrellas and maybe slightly more effective ponchos, or improvised rain gear such as the classic Hefty bag with head and arm holes. But mostly they accepted the fact that whatever they did, they were going to get soaked. So while they were getting soaked, they sang and danced.

New Birth finished their set around 5:30. By this time I was soaked from my ribcage on down—an umbrella isn’t much good when it’™s raining sideways. And the rain was still pouring down and around. Leave? Or go to the Acura stage to catch Billy Joel? Remembering those droves of people leaving, I figured there would be some elbow room in front of the Acura stage. And since I was already wet anyway ....

So I caught most of Billy Joel’s set. (He had been scheduled to start at 5:30 but, like Dr. John, started early.) And Billy play his ass off. He played all his songs that everyone knows by heart, so knowing them by heart, everyone sang along. When he did “You May Be Right,” lightning was striking not too far away, and I thought as I sang along that indeed, “€œI may be crazy.” He saved “Piano Man” for his encore, and the thousands of hearty souls still there sang along lustily. All the while, the rain kept pouring down and around.

By the time Billy left the stage, the Fair Grounds infield was a mud pit. I didn’™t feel cold until the music stopped; as I walked back to my car, my teeth were chattering.

So how wet did I get? You know how, when you go swimming, sometimes your fingertips get wrinkled? I swear on my mother’s grave that when I got home, got my soaking wet clothes off, got in the shower, and washed my backside—my ass was wrinkled.

I had a blast. Can’t wait until tomorrow.

__________

Goes without saying: hat tip to Randy Newman for the headline.

High-energy blues by Tab Benoit

Yesterday at Jazz Fest, I heard Tab Benoit simulate a washboard on his guitar. This video features the same thing, along with some other spicy guitar playing.