TILTING AT WINDMILLS - THE LEGSYBOYS' EURO ADVENTURE

JAZZFEST CURTAIN CALL.....

Saturday night sure had its moments. Many of the house guests convened around the tuuurb for a drink and a chat, when JJ (who clearly needs to consider a move into clairvoyancy) announced some sad news - B.B. King, aged 89, had passed away. Of course there was much eulogizing of the blues legend from all and sundry. Now on the 4th May, BB's physician Dr Brimhall announced that this news was a hoax, only to have to retract it on the 14th May when he did, in fact, leave this mortal coil. Maybe we should reconvene in the tuuurb to eulogize him one more time, but I know I'll never ask JJ how my health is from now on! Anyway, we've also got tickets to see Black Joe Lewis & The Honeybears, a red hot, raw soul band from Texas, at...oh oh..One Eyed Jack's.

Advertising poster - which one's Black Joe (50% chance of being correct!)

We mosey down and get told that the support act hasn't yet started, so we head off for dinner. Ninety minutes later we enter the venue as Joe announces "Thanks for coming, here's our last song!" We were gobsmacked...luckily he played a three song encore, and he kicked derriere big time; fortunately we could see the funny side of it, returned to the IOU and chatted into the wee hours with the English retirees and Marley. One topic of conversation - "why would a man of clear African/American extraction need to preface his name with the colour of his skin?" Answers on a postcard please.

Sold in a confectionary shop - truly bizarre

And so, last day. At the Blues Tent I witness what is, without any exceptions, unequivocally the worst act I've ever seen here. Take a man in his 80's, put him in a silver foil jump suit, and give him an ironing board to rest his keyboard on, and BINGO - welcome to the stage Ironing Board Sam. He was, quite simply, unlistenable, and would struggle to draw a crowd on a French Quarter corner as a busker! Thankfully, Tinno and JJ happened to be at the back of the tent and also witnessed this travesty, and can provide firm concurrence on this.

Over at Congo Square I watched a couple of songs by the sartorially resplendent Walter "Wolfman" Washington & the Roadmasters. I really like Walter and he turns in a typically fine blues set.

After Anders Osborne attempts to prove that he can play boringly long guitar solos as well as the next axe hero, comes a festival highlight. Art Neville, Leo Nocentelli, George Porter Jr and 'Zigaboo' Modeliste, all four considered peerless on their instruments, were collectively known as The Meters, and hadn't played together for an eon. This was their reunion and they displayed just why they are regarded as the godfathers of New Orleans funk with an outstanding show. If you've not heard of them then you really must check out their 70's albums, you owe it to yourself.

Art

Zigaboo

George

Leo

At the other end of the fair ground I get to see one of the greatest ever blue-eyed soul singers, Steve Winwood, put in a superb performance that covered his 60's glory moments with the Spencer Davis Group right through his solo peak, and when he sang 'I'm A Man' it rendered Chicago's effort on Friday totally irrelevant. I'd never seen him before, tick another box!

I zip quickly in to see Kermit Ruffins blowing his cheeks out like a cane toad as he performed a tribute to Satchmo, and the saw the Mulligan Brothers who were memorable only because their bass player used some home made instrument that consisted of two suitcases.

Handy for a quick getaway!

One last time in the Jazz Tent to see The Blind Boys Of Alabama. Man, can these fellas sing, Jimmy Carter (no, not THAT one!) is an original member but still going strong after 70 years, and you don't need to be a God fearing person to be utterly lifted by the power, the beauty and the unabashed joy of these venerable singers. A mini highlight was watching them leave the stage in a conga line, arm to shoulder, blind but true brothers in arms.

Jimmy Carter

Seeking intervention from above? He didn't need it!

I've seen Trombone Shorty enough times, and I certainly didn't want to watch Dr John's Satchmo tribute (one listen to the record and you will understand why), and so I decide to wrap it up this year at the Blues Tent; great decision Don Legsy. Home town hero Tab Benoit knows how to work the locals and he plays a spirited set of guitar based blues. He's wearing a shirt that he's either found in the local Desigual store, or he's borrowed one of Tinno's. But wait, there's better, for standing next to him on stage is a senora belting away on two tambourines, a grin that would humble a Cheshire cat, and raunchily gyrating along. The "raunchy" bit is quickly forgotten when she turns out to be Tab's mother!!

Tab and mum!!

Finally, one of the all-time greats of Chicago electric blues takes the stage, and the audience (and Don L) goes bananas as that instantly recognisable sound is wrung from his Stratocaster; Buddy Guy is in the house, and he proceeds to peel the paint off the walls - well, he would have if the tent had painted walls. It's a stellar end to seven days of music that has had its share of peaks and troughs.

Another great JazzFest full of music, food, friends and Mardi Gras Injuns. Personally, I don't get the whole indian thing, and the pounding drums and chanting is anathema to me, but they are a truly spectacular and vibrant part of the festival, and New Orleans in general.