Minor Wisdom: “My blues heaven” debriefed

Every now and then I’ve had a perfect day at Jazz Fest. But this must be the first time I had a perfect weekend—all day, every day, Friday through Sunday.

I arrived when the gate opened. And with some time to kill before the first act I wanted to see (Guitar Slim Jr.), I decided to browse the crafts booths around Congo Square. These people make everything they sell an art form, whether it’s a picture, jewelry, a rain poncho, or whatever. If I had needed a hat, I probably would have bought myself a funky one there.

After browsing Congo Square, I caught a little bit of Wayne Toups and a little bit of Guitar Slim Jr. (They were playing opposite each other—fortunately the stages were not too far apart.) Wayne’s genre is Cajun-zydeco-rock; at least that’s the best way I can describe it. Guitar Slim Jr. is a blues cover man, and a very good one at that. He has the genes, the personality, and the talent to pull off any blues song you can think of. My impression: despite his name, his real talent is singing. Not that he’s a bad guitar player. But if through some tragedy he lost the use of his hands, he would still be worth seeing just as a singer.

The main event today for me was Sonny Landreth at 2:10, Gentilly Stage. Sonny just happens to be the world’s best slide guitar player. I’ve seen Sonny live before in a more intimate setting: the free Wednesday concerts in the spring at Lafayette Square. Somehow he managed to outdo himself today. I was fortunate enough to be standing next to a few other guitar connoisseurs during Sonny’s set. The universal reaction was speechlessness. (The set was recorded. If you want to buy it, visit this in a few days.)

After Sonny’s set, I was hungry. I found a booth selling boiled crawfish, and, not having eaten any this season yet (I know; shame on me), I decided to cure that failing. I was reminded that most of the Jazz Fest crowd is from out of town. It’s sort of a convention for serious music lovers. The reason I was reminded of this is that I was the only person, it seemed, who ordered the boiled crawfish. And the only person within a stone’s throw who knew how to eat them. But that’s okay. Even though you talk funny, you out-of-town Jazz Fest people are ALL RIGHT! You have good musical judgment, and you’re helping us by coming here and spending money. And it’s a pleasure to meet you and to talk about our mutual love of the music.

Anyway, after sucking the last head and pinching the last tail (that’s how you eat crawfish, folks), I returned to the Gentilly Stage just in time for Robert Cray. He and his band were superb. And Jazz Fest geography being what it is, I snagged the same spot I had for Sonny Landreth’s set: about 50 yards from front-center stage.

After Robert Cray came the most difficult choice of the day. At the Gentilly Stage would be Etta James. At Congo Square: Earth, Wind & Fire. In the Gospel Tent, the Mighty Chariots of Fire. And nine other acts at nine other stages. I wandered over to Congo Square, where I found a crowd so thick it spilled over from the infield onto the race track. (The Jazz Fest is held at the Fair Grounds, a horse-race track.) The tie-breaker between EW&F and Etta James was the venue: the Gentilly Stage was less crowded, and the folks I met there during Robert Cray’s and Sonny Landreth’s sets were most congenial. So Etta James it was.

Let me tell you about Etta James. She’s been around for a long time, meaning she’s old. But whatever she may have conceded to age, she has not conceded one atom of attitude. Some of her songs are nasty, and when she sings the nasty parts, she really means it.

So much for the first weekend. I have three days to rest up until the second weekend starts this Thursday. The lineup will be ferocious. Here’s just a taste:

Thursday: