TILTING AT WINDMILLS - THE LEGSYBOYS' EURO ADVENTURE

NEW ORLEANS JAZZFEST 2013 - ON REFLECTION

From late April and into May I went to the U.S.of A. to attend the New Orleans JazzFest and then travel by road to Memphis in the company of my very dear friends Billy & Lois. There's much to cover so this is glossed summary of JazzFest to get things rolling. We had a great group of people - there was Billy & Lois of course, as well as mi hermano from Newcastle, Mark Tinson and his beautiful woif Julie, then there was Jen Missing (the Princess Of Pascoe Vale); we all stayed together at the Inn On Ursuline, and Mark's brother Lee was also with us but staying at a different establishment. Seven different people and we had a ball. Here's how it unfolded.........

Billy & Lois at the musical Gates of Eden

More than most of its ilk, JazzFest polarises sentiments; for every person intoxicated by it there is an opposite opinion held. Indeed, whilst acknowledging the economic benefits of the festival to the Big Easy, its residents are curiously apathetic towards the event. This year was only my 2nd time (previously have been in 2011), but all things considered it is a wonderful experience, particularly if you stay for the complete 10 days.

It's serious stuff being a Mardi Gras chief

Given there are 7 actual festival days with somewhere around 400+ acts, then there is always going to be something for everyone. This is also the first hurdle to get over, i.e. it’s not all about jazz, far from it in fact. In truth, it’s not even all about Louisiana’s rich musical heritage, although you won’t be hard pressed to find it on any given day (especially around the aptly named Fais Do Do stage). For a festival of its kind to remain viable, the bills have to be paid and let’s face it, jazz and ‘heritage’ (roots) acts aren’t going to attract crowds in sufficient numbers to do this.

Crazy dance woman

I love these people

And so, there is the necessity to bring in headliners that may well heighten the cringe factor and question the ‘roots music’ legitimacy of the festival, but really, it’s just a matter of ignoring it and watching someone you DO wish to see. You, i.e. I, may not see the bona fides of Billy Joel, Fleetwood Mac, Maroon 5, Frank Ocean, Dave Mathews, Widespread Panic, and even Patti Smith to JazzFest (or, in some cases, to anything), but tens of thousands of others did, and that’s popular people power in action. Forty thousand punters watching Stevie and Lindsay re-enact their broken relationship for the umpteenth time translates into bulging coffers, so good on them. And best of all, it meant that other stages were slightly less crowded.

Tutu

No takers I'm afraid

Inconspicuous

I was initially a little disappointed in the overall artist roster, and on reflection it was a tad light on for the kind of music I was looking for (and certainly well below the brilliant 2011 cast). Nonetheless, each day still had its memorable, and not so, moments. Day 1 was started by watching Guitar Slim Jr’s fine blues set, before heading indoors to listen to a fascinating interview between author David Fricke and guitarist John Fohl. The former Cherry Poppin’ Daddy and Dr John sideman was a delight, interspersing his anecdotes with a couple of selections from his terrific new album ‘Teeth And Bones’. The rest of the day was filled in at the Gentilly Stage; Anders Osborn managed to squeeze 3 songs into the 55 minute bracket of his southern boogie guitar hero set, before Gary Clark Jr simply wiped the stage floor with him in what turned out to be one of the major highlights of the fortnight - he is a truly awesome talent.

Guitar Slim Jr

Sign language

John Fohl

Gary Clark Jr

Sadly, the Band Of Horses were so excruciatingly off key that an earlier than intended end was brought to the day. They did, however, provide an interesting distraction I have not seen before; standing beside the stage were ladies delivering the songs in sign language. Now, presumably this was for the hearing impaired in the crowd (and that’s a fantastic service), but it raised more questions than answers; why come to a festival of sound in the first place if you can’t actually hear it? How do you get close enough to see the sign girls in the first place? How did the girls manage to translate lyrics that were fundamentally indecipherable (I for one, couldn’t understand a word BoH sang!)?

Cyril Neville

Tab Benoit

Big Chief Monk Boudroux

Cedric Watson

The beauty of Nawlinz is that it’s not just about the festival; there’re also the evening sideshows to consider. I’ve waited considerable years to see the enigmatic Terry Reid and I wasn’t going to let the chance go by when he appeared at the fire trap known as One-Eyed Jack’s. Knocking back the gigs in Led Zeppelin and Deep Purple is genuine “I coulda been a contender” stuff, and I desperately wanted to hear the man responsible for the sublime album ‘River’ in the flesh. I had managed to convince Mark to come along too, and sadly it was a disaster, with the clearly damaged Reid lurching from one incomprehensible monologue to another, his voice shredded and his guitar almost an accessory; it lasted 20 minutes before a judicious retreat was called for. Whilst disappointed, Mark and I were able to put it down as another unique JazzFest experience.

Cedric Watson is, to my mind, at the pinnacle of Cajun accordianists, and his Day 2 set didn’t disappoint. With a bowl of Crawfish Monica and a strawberry lemonade in hand, it was then on to watch the Voice Of The Wetlands All-Stars strut their stuff. Whilst Dr John didn’t grace the stage with an appearance, the high octane chops of Tab Benoit, Johnny Sansone, Anders Osborn, George Porter Jr, Cyril Neville and Johnny Vidacovich more than compensated. Over in the Blues Tent I watched the mighty Jon Cleary and his latest combo The Diabolical Fandangos do their sound check and all sounded fine; what unfolded was anything but! The mix was horrendously muddy, ‘Big D’ Perkins’ languorous guitar almost indecipherable until the truly sublime moment of his solo on ‘Help Me Somebody’. This was a real shame as Cleary unveiled half a dozen songs from his forthcoming album, all of which sounded top shelf. Fortunately, the sound at the House Of Blues later in the evening was pristine and those in attendance (I was actually an absentee, I confess) heard the majesty of New Orleans’ finest keyboard player, Perkins (who for the 2nd time in a day brought a packed crowd to total silence) and the other band members in full cry; Jon Cleary is in a class of his own.

Diabolical Fandangos

Jon Cleary

Big 'D'

If you have not seen Charles Bradley & His Extraordinaires, then make every effort to do so. His James Brown infused stage show is an absolute riot, and man oh man, can he sing up a storm! Under the leadership of the Daptone’s Thomas Brenneck, the big band is exhilarating, and Bradley’s sheer exuberance is infectious; one doesn’t often see a 64 year old doing the splits on stage, a performance he repeated later in the evening, again at One-Eyed Jack’s. I managed to get Jen to accompany me and we had a real stroke of luck as the show was a sellout. However, as we bemoaned our luck outside the venue, a little man near the door was taken by our obvious disappointment and promptly added us to his personal guest list – it was Kyeato Sanchez, Bradley’s drummer!! Another unique JazzFest moment.

Charles Bradley

Thomas Brenneck

Chuck again....

Having seen Calexico bring the Madrid house down last December, I was keen for a repeat performance, and Joey Burns and John Convertino et al didn’t disappoint. With a brass section swollen by 4 locals, plus a harp player from downtown Tucson, they ripped through a strong set of songs from their latest album, and left one to ponder how the Gipsy Kings took headline billing over them - a conundrum even more puzzling once the Kings set began!

...and Joey Burns

Calexico's John Convertino...

Rain, rain, and more rain; I’ve never been to a festival when it’s rained, and this year’s JazzFest clearly made up for lost years. For 3 of the final 4 days it teemed down, turning the racecourse into a quagmire. The hottest ticket in town was a pair of gumboots, and by the 2nd Friday there was not an unsold pair to be found in the city. Numbers were obviously affected, but the intrepid souls who turned out were treated to some terrific shows, and (almost) without exception, artists who appreciated the crowd’s dedication. Widespread Panic limited press access in the pit to 3 songs, at least 2 more than necessary, and allowed early access to see punk’s most famous female proboscis. Patti started out just fine, but after a half dozen songs she was spent. It was a shame, too, to walk past the Fais Do Do stage and encounter a quagmire of such magnitude that only 7 people were watching Rockin’ Dopsie Jr, the stage’s headline act for the day; to their eternal credit, the Zydeco Twisters soldiered on as if it was a full house.

Patti....

...Smith

Kyeato Sanchez - muchas gracias

I’m not big on gospel, but I gave it a go. I tried the Boutte family, the Branchettes and the Bolton Brothers, all with minimal success and no chance of me being re-born. My apathy towards the genre was obviously shared by the populace as the tent was rarely more than half full. There was an exception however, and when Irma Thomas did her Mahalia Jackson tribute the crowd was 20 deep OUTSIDE the tent (even my photographer’s pass couldn’t get me within sight of the stage) - and Irma was imperious. It was one of several highlights of a 2nd Friday that featured fine performances from Lil’ Band O’ Gold pianist David Egan, a great interview and show by dobro genius Jerry Douglas, a smouldering Ana Popovic in a stunning excuse for a dress (and who, for obvious reasons, held her mainly male audience in the palm of her hand!), and Jimmy Cliff making sure the audience was all right between every song.

John Boutte

David Egan

Soul Queen Of New Orleans

Whether the rain that affected my senses I don’t know, but I was amazed at just how GOOD Maroon 5 sounded (no, I’m serious!), and half the 30,000 throng would have been mud spattered pre-teens; JazzFest really is for everyone these days. I was so close I could see the hairs up Willie Nelson’s nose; at 80, he’s lost it completely (a bit harsh if you think he never had it!) but I was surrounded by thousands singing along to his every word and they adored him, and that’s what it’s all about. Willie was simultaneously doing to the baby boomers what Maroon 5 were doing to the boppers. But wait, the Friday had more, in the form of The Mavericks. Raul Malo and his sidekicks turned on a festival stopping extravaganza; it was exhilarating and I swear the people enjoying themselves the most were the band themselves - unforgettable.

Raul

The Mavericks

Whatcha lookin' at!!

The final weekend also brought the big guns out to play, and one or two pop guns. Frank Ocean has obviously let the general hysteria over one seriously overrated album go to his head, ‘cos he was appalling, ‘all at sea’ in fact. Even the New York guitar maestro Jim Campagnolo and the stunning diva Norah Shankar (Jones) couldn’t raise The Little Willies above the mediocre - they lack the necessary grit to pull off country effectively. Galactic pulverized the Gentilly audience into submission with their sonic brand of funk, ably assisted at one point by trombonist Corey Harris’ 12 year old daughter ripping off a blinding trumpet solo; of course, Irma’s secular show was vibrant and ample evidence of why she picked up a Blues Music Award a couple of nights later in Memphis (more on this at a later time); and how cool it was to hear Clarence ‘Frogman’ Henry step back in time to belt out ‘I Don’t Know Why I Love You (But I Do)’. Los Lobos and the Black Keys were simply sensational, and Billy & Lois assured me that both The Mac and Hall & Oates rolled out all the big hits in their performances, although thankfully not within earshot of me.

A Maverick

Dan Auerbach

Black Keys

A subtle changing of the guard is apparent at festival curtain call. With long time finishers The Radiators having called it a day, it was left to Nawlinz’ latest ‘flavour of the month’ Trombone Shorty to close one stage, and presumably the new tradition has begun. On the other main stage, it was left to Aaron Neville (sans the Brothers) to draw an end; who knows what the dynamics are behind the brothers not convening, but as a soloist, Aaron doesn’t deliver the knockout punch his siblings as a whole unit did. The same can’t be said of Taj Mahal in the Blues Tent and Del McCoury at the Fais Do Do, where both veterans turned in stellar performances.

Galactic horns

Los Lobos' David Hidalgo

There were other notable detours along the way. The Rock’n’Bowl held the annual Bobby Charles tribute evening that featured Tommy Malone, Shannon McNally and the LBOG. In an interview earlier in the day (more about the day’s adventures will follow!) with David Egan and Steve Riley, they had alerted Mark and me to the absence of Warren Storm, a not insubstantial loss to the band’s sound one would suggest, at least vocally. And so it proved to be, as they performed adequately but steered clear of showstoppers such as ‘I Don’t Want To Know’ (a song Storm has made his own). At a Parish Hall gig later in the week (Mark & Billy went – I piked out) they would also perform without saxophonist Pat Broux in what was apparently a fairly lack lustre show. One suspects that there will be plenty of back room manoeuvring going on if LBOG is to embark on the road as Robert Plant’s support act in Texas later this year. Whilst LBOG may have been off the boil, the same can’t be said of guitarist C.C. Adcock, who turned in an amazing show at D.B.A. in Frenchman Street. Over the course of 60 minutes he displayed all his ‘rock god’ poses, had all his repartee down pat (at one stage offending nearly every woman in the house, including Lois, Jen & Julie), nearly knocked over a speaker stack whilst adopting a guitar god pose, did his best ‘Jimmy Page with violin bow’ impersonation, and strutted like a triumphant rooster - it was fabulous. Plus, his band was simply awesome, featuring an acoustic bass player and 2 drummers!

C.C. Adcock at D.B.A.

Away from the festival, Nawlinz has so much to offer. The French Quarter can be an absolute delight where buskers prevail on every street corner and fine little eateries are to be found down side alleys (try Cafe Amelie off Royal St for size). A short cable car ride can get you to the Commander’s Palace, the finest eating gig in town where the Ponchatoula Strawberry Shortcake is simply the best I have ever tasted - anywhere! If you’ve been inspired by Treme then a must-do is a visit to Dookie Chase’s for the city’s finest fried chicken (I’ve increased my anti-cholesterol dosage to 80gms!). Beignets at Cafe du Monde is always a hoot (don’t wear black!), and Billy & Lois confirmed that the best burgers in town can be found at Port Of Call - if you’re prepared for the 2 hour wait! The thing is, don’t get hung up on the odourous swill that is Bourbon Street; have a look if you must but there is so much more to be taken advantage of elsewhere. And a final word of warning; like all of America, New Orleans proprietors are guilty of false advertising. Unless you have some morbid masochistic streak within you, then simply refrain from even attempting to drink the grey-brown swill they pass off as coffee; it defies description.

Hmmm...I know them!!

I can see why some people do not take to the JazzFest experience with unrestrained glee. It’s a cultural and musical marathon that, at the very least, requires a hotel with a spa to ease the aches after a long day of standing – fortunately, the Inn On Ursulines was such a place. But having stood in searing heat, stood in ankle deep mud (losing a pair of shoes in the process), stood in awe at the grandeur of some artists (come on down Irma), stood in utter amazement at the sheer awfulness of others (the blue ribbon goes to the appropriately named Brushy One-String of Jamaica, the most appalling act I have witnessed at JazzFest), stood devouring an array of Louisiana culinary delights, and stood watching a cavalcade of human diversity pass amiably by, I can only conclude that it’s something everyone should do at least once; and once bitten........