I’m happy to report that I survived last evening’s running of the 26th annual Tchoupitoulas Barathon. Six miles, six bar, six beers; time 1:02:25. Not bad, considering that my longest recent run was five days prior: five miles (with no beer stops) in just under an hour.
I didn’t take a camera along this time. But my wife, Suzanne, did. She took some snapshots, which I uploaded here.
Here’s a rock-and-roll apple that didn’t fall far from the blues tree: the Pretenders’ live performance of “My City Was Gone.” Orleanians can relate to that.
The good folks at What About Clients Paris?, who led me to this video, have their own version of Saturday Evening Blues going. Today’s installment there is Howlin’ Wolf performing “Dust My Broom.”
If you want an FYYFF t-shirt (you know you do!) but can’t make it to Dirty Coast’s store on Magazine Street to buy one, fear not: you can buy one (or several) on line at Dirty Coast’s web site. While there, check out the photos of Hana Morris and some NOLA bloggers modeling these coolest of t-shirts. (All proceeds from the sale of these shirts go to Hana and kids.)
While you’re visiting Dirty Coast, check out some of their other offerings. My wife, for instance, just bought a Geauxbama shirt (I’m so envious!), and my t-shirt drawer includes NOLA Gothic. Next on my Dirty Coast wish-list is their NOS&WB welcome mat.
State Senator Ann Duplessis has caught a lot of flack lately for proposing a substantial pay raise for state legislators. Whatever you think of her proposal, two things should be universally accepted:
My own 2¢ on this issue: We should have a provision in the Louisiana Constitution similar to the 27th Amendment to the U.S. Constitution:
No Law, varying the compensation for the services of the Senators and Representatives, shall take effect, until an election of Representatives shall have intervened.
Under the 27th Amendment, a Congress can never enact a pay raise for itself; any pay raise is for the benefit of the next Congress. This has two benefits. First, it reduces the conflict of interests in the Congress voting on the pay raise, as 100% of the representatives and 33% of the senators have no guarantee of being part of the next Congress. Second, it promotes the perception (maybe even the reality) that any vote in this area is motivated by genuine economic concerns rather than self-interest or fear of unwarranted voter backlash.
In 2005, the U.S. Supreme Court held, in Kelo v. City of New London, that the U.S. Constitution does not prohibit a state from expropriating private land for “economic development,” e.g. a Wal-Mart. In reaction, Louisiana (like many other states) amended its state constitution to prohibit such an expropriation.
Louisiana’s amendments may have the unintended consequence of impeding New Orleans’ recovery from Katrina. For instance, they may prevent the state or the city from expropriating a blighted property burdened with tax liens, and turning the property over to, say, Habitat for Humanity. For an informative analysis of this potential problem, read this post on by Craig Williams on May It Please the Court.
The Ashley Morris memorial t-shirts just arrived at Dirty Coast on Magazine Street. Go get yours. You’ll look cool, and you’ll be helping Ashley’s family.
For the signification of “FYYFF,” read this classic by Ashley.
I’ve done some remodeling here at Minor Wisdom. I re-arranged the layout to put both sidebars on the right side, so that the newest post will appear in the upper left corner—the first place people usually look at on a computer screen. To speed up page loading, I deleted a couple of things features from the sidebar. (If you miss them, let me know. If you don’t, that tells me they didn’t need to be there in the first place.) Finally, I installed a new design, a prefab by TypePad called “Minimalist Red,” which I’ve also installed at my other blog.
Why did I say that Henry Butler is special? Here’s why, in two parts:
See also these two posts at A Scale Canadian:
This picture, spotted on Library Chronicles, is too funny not to share.
You can buy one of these gems here.
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.)
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.
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 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”.
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:
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