"Fest Companion, 2022": THE WEEKEND MIX

 

 

Mardi Gras is over, the French Quarter Festival has just begun and the New Orleans Jazz & Heritage Festival is less than a week away. From 1999 until 2019, I had only missed Jazz Fest three times. This was a very important time for me, as the city of New Orleans was and still is, very important to me. Of course, there are the obvious reasons- music, food, warm weather. 

But it's mostly the people.

The people.

The people of New Orleans somehow managed to calm me down. I didn't move as fast. I had patience. I smiled a lot. Some friends joked that I was taller in New Orleans. It wouldn't be wrong to attribute all of that to simply being on vacation, except the key to it all was that I never felt like I was on vacation. I was at home. New Orleans is full of invaluable intangibles. You either get it or you don't.

The picture you see up top, is where you would find me most of the time. It wasn't just about the Festival. Sitting one short story above the corner of Royal & St. Philip was like floatation therapy. I'd sit for hours and just observe. It was both incredibly entertaining and often very peaceful. 

The horse and buggy tours that drove by a dozen times a day thrilled me on every pass. The horse clomped on by and the driver/tour guide pointed up, excitedly sharing, "That balcony is where Elvis Presley sang King Creole." You'd hear that six blocks away. Across town. No one cared. According to those tour guides, Elvis filmed "King Creole" on just about every balcony in New Orleans. But if you were in the backseat, enjoying the tour, any one of those balconies would do. You were satisfied. On my balcony, I was satisfied. It was another of those invaluable intangibles.

There were also long stretches of beautiful silence, dotted with an occasional reverberating trumpet in the distance that I can still hear when I need to.

 

 

Evenings, right around 6:P.M., a voice, so beautifully haunting, would summon those who were listening.

"Pie lady. Piiiiiiiiie laaaady."

That voice, with the natural reverb of the Quarter, always tore my heart in two. I'd wait until her voice got closer. And there she was. Tall and beautiful, pushing a cart with her homemade pies. I never moved so fast in my life. Down the steps, out the door, and up the block.

"Dinner or dessert," she would ask. Wrapped haphazardly in foil and saran, she'd offer lemon, cherry or meat. I'd buy all three. One night I asked, "How do you do out here?" I had never heard a voice so beaten and yet so grateful. "Not so good tonight, but it'll get better tomorrow." 

One morning, early, I had just come back from a walk. Grabbed a coffee and the Times-Picayune. Viola, the housekeeper of the twelve units that comprised the building on that corner, had stepped out onto the adjacent balcony to cook a smoothie.

"Good morning, Mr. Sal."

One look at Viola and you could feel 75 years of struggle. Yet she was only 46. And she had 4 grandchildren.

"Mr. Sal, can I ask you a question? I'm having trouble with my credit cards. They keep calling me and telling me I have to pay. But I know I paid them. I was thinking, since you're a lawyer and all, maybe you can call them and get them off my back."

"Viola, I'm not a lawyer."

"Yeah, but they don't know that."

You either get it or you don't. 

One night there were five of us and somewhere out there, either Uptown or over on Bourbon, or maybe on Frenchmen Street, it was happening. But the balcony, my balcony was happening for us. Beer in the fridge. A bottle of Wild Turkey even closer. James Booker was on the box. "True," from Montreux. How do you get five lamped people to shut the hell up? Play Booker's "True," from Montreux. That balcony was happening and Booker was taking names.  That balcony was our home away from home four times a year from 1999- 2007 and I miss it terribly. It became a year round residence a few years after Katrina and we found a new home away from home just around the block. There is a balcony, but it's smaller and higher and the view is of buildings and hotels towering over downtown New Orleans. It's not the same, but what is?

Each year, I would compile a CD featuring artists performing at the Fest, mixed with artists and songs that felt right for the mix. I called it the Fest Companion and I would mail it out to the small group of friends that would be taking the trip. Most of them loved getting the mail and the music. By the third or fourth Fest Companion, I'd receive calls and e-mails wondering when the new edition would be arriving. It was an amazing time. 

Do you know what it means to miss New Orleans?

When one of my friends received the CD, he replied:

"Thanks. I'll save it for when I get back so I can have a good cry."

That's what it means to miss New Orleans.

You either get it, or you don't.

I think my last "Fest Companion" was in 2012, so this one is a long time coming.

QUICK NOTES:

One of the best things about walking the grounds of the festival, aside from the food, is that at any given time of the day, you can wander into any one of the tents---blues, gospel, jazz---or over to the open stages---Fais Do Do, Heritage---and hear something wonderful. But as long as I see two particular artists, Astral Project & Germaine Bazzle, I am good to go for the entire trip

Astral Project is a jazz quartet featuring four New Orleans legends---Tony Dagradi, Steve Masakowski, James Singleton and John Vidacovich. The music they play is hard to describe, other than it is an otherworldly type of jazz I have never heard outside of New Orleans.

The first time I saw Germaine Bazzle it was love at first sight. It was my first Jazz Fest, so I was at the mercy of my friends, who just knew I would love her. She is elegant and hip. Sassy and brilliant. Ella, Sarah, Anita and Bessie all wrapped up in one and still a complete original. Miss Bazzle just celebrated her 90th birthday and I know this year's performance will be a special one.

In the wake of Jon Batiste's 300 Grammy wins, I decided to pull out something from 2005, a cover of Maroon 5's "This Love" from Trombone Shorty's album "Orleans & Claiborne," which features Batiste on keyboards. Both Jon and Shorty were 19 at the time. 

(P.S. Troy "Trombone Shorty" Andrews was my neighbor for a few weeks on that balcony. I'd say I knew him when, but I already knew it then!)

If that photo of me on the balcony had an accompanying song, it would be Jon Cleary's instrumental take on Johnny "Guitar" Watson's "We're No Exception." Or maybe it's "Burgundy Street Blues" by Dr. Michael White. Both are too beautiful for words.

This is it from me until I return on May 7th. (Well, there will be one more SOTW post on Sunday.) My bud BuzzBabyJesus will be minding the shop with a couple of posts to keep you busy while I am gone, so show him some love. The side bars--SOTD, Today's Cover, Best Thing etc., will return when I return.

I will not be posting on the blog while I am away, but if you're interested in the music I am hearing, the food I am eating or just some picture postcards from New Orleans, I will be very active on Instagram, which you can access by clicking the photo underneath the "One Sentence Review" on the left.

See you soon.

TRACKLIST

Break In The Road- Betty Harris & The Meters
This Is My Country- Cyril Neville
Nuevo Boogaloo- The Iguanas
Function At The Junction- Tin Men
We're No Exception- Jon Cleary
Big Shot- Astral Project
Fat Man- New Orleans Nightcrawlers
Mize Pa Dous- Leyla McCalla
Lottle Mo '68- Lee Dorsey
All These Things- John Boutte
All Behind You Now- Galactic
This Love- Trombone Shorty
If You're Lonely- James Booker
Burgundy Street Blues- Dr. Michael White
Sing It- Marcia Ball, Irma Thomas, Tracy Nelson
Surrey With The Fringe On Top/Bazzle's Blues- Germaine Bazzle
Saints- The Wild Magnolias

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