Minor Wisdom

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.

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.

First Friday

Okay, so my Jazz Fest plan for today was to see Susan Cowsill, J. Monque’D, the Zydepunks, Anders Osborne and/or Tab Benoit, and Buckwheat Zydeco. As usual, I departed from the script as the day developed.

I did arrive early enough to see most of Susan Cowsill’s set. I had heard of her but never really listened to her before. She’s exquisite. Her life story has her starting out as a member of the musical Cowsill Family. Years ago, she came to New Orleans and became an adopted daughter. I learned today that she’s an excellent song writer. Her singing voice I would describe as sexy. I’m a new fan.

Next up was the J. Monque’D Blues Band. JMD is a serious student of the blues. His band, I noticed, is excellent. They turned in a solid set, and when they finished, they got a well deserved standing O.

After that, I was hungry. I had my heart set on a cochon de lait po boy. The line was long and moved slowly, but the wait was worth it. At $5, it’s the best food bargain at the Fest.

With pig sandwich in hand, I headed over to Fais Do Do stage for the Zydepunks. It turned out that their music is neither zydeco nor punk. It wasn’t quite my cup of tea, but I did enjoy watching this bohemian girl and her guy-friend dancing to their music with hula-hoops.

I didn’t stick around for the whole set. Instead, I headed over toward the Blues Tent, ended up in the Gospel Tent, and had my serendipitous moment of the day, courtesy of Lady Tambourine. Things are always jumping in the Gospel Tent, but Lady Tambourine got them jumpier. (They say you haven’t been to the Jazz Fest if you haven’t been to the Gospel Tent. They’re right.)

The next act on my plan was Anders Osborne. But with time to kill before his set started, I swung by the Fais Do Do stage and caught a little bit of Dwayne Dopsie and the Zydeco Hellraisers. They are a young, rock-solid zydeco band. Dwayne is a wizard on the accordion. The white kid (?) playing the washboard was excellent, as was the rest of the band.

After catching half of Dwayne Dopsie’s set, I headed over to the Gentilly Stage for Anders Osborne. The good news: it wasn’t nearly as crowded as I thought it would be. There was plenty of space, even close to the stage. I guess that the threat of rain kept some people away. The bad news: the set was 15 minutes late getting started due to some technical problems.

I caught a couple of Anders’ songs, then had to make a choice: see the rest of his set or head to the Blues Tent for Tab Benoit. The threat of rain broke the tie: if it started to rain, a tent would be a good place to be. So I headed for the Blues Tent, where I caught Tab’s entire set. Going into the day, I would have called Tab the day’s best bet. The bet paid off. He and his band, Louisiana LeRoux, were excellent.

My plan for closing out the day had been to see Buckwheat Zydeco. But he was playing in the Blues Tent, and I decided I wanted to be outside for the final act. And with Fair Grounds not too overcrowded, I decided to go see Sheryl Crow instead. Of course I’ve heard of her, but I’d never listened to her before. I learned there’s a reason for her popularity: she’s good.

Tomorrow’s plan:

• 11:20 - Sonny Bourg and the Bayou Blues Band.
• 12:30 - Wayne Toups and Zydecajun.
• 2:30 - This is going to be hard. Walter “Wolfman” Washington and the Roadmasters will be at Congo Square, while Eddie Bo is next door at Fais Do Do.
• 3:35 - An easier choice: Dr. John.
• 5:30 - Billy Joel will be on the Acura stage. If the crowds are not too bad, I may give him a look. Otherwise, I’ll catch Rosie Ledet and the Zydeco Playboys.

Where I’ll be on Friday (maybe)

A day at Jazz Fest rarely goes as planned. As Chris Rose wrote a few days ago, the most carefully thought out plans always yield to serendipity. So with that disclaimer, here’s my plan for First Friday:

• 11:20: Susan Cowsill
• 12:30: J. Monque’D Blues Band
• 1:35: The Zydepunks (never heard of them, but love the name)
• 3:35: Anders Osborne
• 4:20: Bilocate between the last 20 minutes of Anders Osborne and the first 20 minutes of Tab Benoit.
• 5:50: Buckwheat Zydeco

Between the Zydepunks and Anders Osborne, there should be time to eat. For years the best food bargain at the Jazz Fest has been the cochon de lait po boy, written up today in the Times Picayune. Delicious. And filling — eat one and you won’t be hungry the rest of the day.

Eulogy for Ashley

Ray Shea has posted his eulogy given at Ashley Morris’s funeral yesterday. I can assure you that every word of it is true, and all of it occurred in just the last three years. Read it, and marvel at a man who knew how to live.

Please keep Hana and the kids in your thoughts and prayers — and let a bit of your money follow. It’ll be a good thing.

Ashley’s obituaries

Ashley Morris’s obituaries (he has two) are here and here.

The funeral is tomorrow at Jacob Schoen on Canal Street. Mrs. Morris says that if you attend, you may wear your Saints attire.

You can help

Last week, extraordinary New Orleans blogger Ashley Morris died suddenly, leaving behind a wife and three young children. On hearing the news, many of us felt helpless, thinking “I wish there was something I could do to help.”

Here’s some good news: You’re not helpless; you can help. Ashley’s widow, Hana, is facing some big expenses. You can help ease her financial burden in one of two ways: click here to donate by PayPal, or write a check payable to Hana Morris and send it to:

HumidCity
c/o George Williams
5500 Prytania St.
PMB #417
New Orleans, LA 70115

If you have a web site, there’s one more thing you can do: Spread the word. Just link to or copy from HumidCity’s fundraising post. Even if you don’t have a web site, you can print the flyer and pass it around.

Remembering Ashley

In December 2005, Ashley Morris first hit my consciousness. Not like a bug hitting a windshield; more like a baseball bat hitting a grapefruit. My conclusion after reading his blog for the first time: “I can’t write.”