Sorry about the delay in getting this one out. Once I returned from New Orleans, my workload really picked up, and I took another little trip to Dallas over the weekend.
On this last day of Jazz Festival, we dealt with off and on rain throughout the day. On the one hand, rain keeps away many fans (and thereby thins the herd just a bit) and it keeps it from getting very not. On the other hand, it tends to turn the site into a big mud pit, and of course drenches you. On the former matter, this year Festival organizers wisened up and poured sand in all the usual muddy spots. Though it meant that blowing sands gave Jazz Fest something of a desert setting (its humid and the desert, how can that be?), it really reduced mud issues the last day. As to the latter, the ponchos one of the locals lining Carrollton Avenue on our way into the Festival grounds provided some relief. Fortunately, it only rained really hard when we were in the Jazz Tent enjoying the Phillip Manuel show in the 11:20 a.m. time slot.
Last year you may recall that Phillip Manuel performed an excellent Nat King Cole tribute show, so I was eager to hear him perform his own set. He didn’t disappoint, performing an authentic jazz performance, including new material (for many of which he wrote the lyrics) and classics (such as “Cheek to Cheek”) updated a bit for some modern touches. Each song afforded the players an improvisation opportunity; at one point Manuel channeled his inner Ella Fitzgerald, dropping into scat mode. His voice evokes Al Jarreau, though with a bit less expansive quality. Manuel really connected with the crowd, introducing each song and explaining his relationship with it. Here, yet again, I stayed longer than I planned because the performance held me there. Plus it was raining pretty hard outside and the strong winds were making the Tent creak a bit. Oh, and the drummer was drinking a beer at 11:30. Well as a t-shirt seen this weekend said, “You can’t say you drank all day if you don’t start in the morning.”
Sidebar: what is with all these performers exhorting the crowd to buy their CDs? Don’t they know the CD era is over? People buy songs on the internet, just like they used to buy singles when records were the prevailing technology. No one wants to buy 8 or so mediocre, bad, or uninteresting songs to get the one or two interesting songs they want to hear. The CD/album era is over. Its 1964 again, and the single reigns supreme.
After a stop for more crawfish bread (it was calling my name, and it haunted my dreams…I had no choice but to succumb to its command), we ventured to the Fais-Do-Do stage and checked out Gal Holiday and the Honky Tonk Review. Now, despite the photos of a tatted-up rocker chick who looks like she just got back from a night out with Joan Jett stomping men who gave them attitude, this Gal was all country on stage. This was old-time country swing, not Cajun or zydeco, and not rock and roll dressed up as country. We heard three songs, and two were Bob Wills songs. She was all energy, and the crowd really loved it. Who wants to two step?
But to sample as much great music as possible on this talent-rich last day, we moved on to the Gentilly Stage for Austin’s own Ruthie Foster. I didn’t enjoy this so much. Its not that Ruthie or her band lack talent or presence. The fairly thin crowd (for which the rain was probably more responsible than the musicians) really seemed to enjoy the performance, and Ruthie reached out to the crowd on every song. My problem was, I guess, just my problem, that I didn’t care too much for her musical style of a rock, blues, funk blend. It just struck me as kind of generic happy/fun/empowerment music. Tracy Chapman and Bonnie Raitt have been mining this territory for nearly 30 years. Its just not my bag, man.
What is my bag is Lafayette’s own Feufollet. For the second year in a row, these still young guns played a very well-received show at the Fais-Do-Do stage. Some of you may recall my rather glowing review from last year, and today’s performance was on par with last year’s as well. While other kids their age are trying to avoid scholastic probation or hitting their moms up for gas money, these kids have formed a really tight “nouvelle” Cajun group. Though the music strays a bit from the typical Cajun formula by working in more of a popular vein, they sing all the songs in French. Its not chanky-chank, but its in the same family. The small but enthusiastic crowd ate it up.
From there began a fairly challenging two hour period packed with some of the strongest performers of the whole Festival. First was Trombone Shorty, at the Gentilly Stage. This guy has rapidly shot up the New Orleans musical ranks to achieve elite status. Troy “Trombone Shorty” Andrews graduated from the New Orleans Center for the Creative Arts, as did some other New Orleans musical luminaries, including Wynton and Branford Marsalis and Harry Connick, Jr. He often guests with the likes of the Neville Brothers, Irma Thomas, and yesterday, Galactic. Now fronting Orleans Avenue, Andrews is working on a hard rock/funk/R&B/hip-hop vein. Imagine later period Hendrix jamming with War. And a little Edgar Winter thrown in. Shorty means business, and the now packed Gentilly Stage crowd was eager to follow him. This band was on fire. Shorty played trombone, trumpet, even some keyboards. An excellent performance and I’m sure we’ll continue to hear a lot more from Trombone Shorty for years to come.
About mid-way through his performance though, we jumped over to the Gospel Tent to listen to one of New Orleans’ premiere gospel and musical institutions over the last 70 years, the Zion Harmonizers. Led since the early 1940s Brother Sherman Washington, the Zion Harmonizers represent the pinnacle of New Orleans gospel music. Every performance I’ve seen has been very moving, particularly last year’s performance, with Brother Sherman singing “I Want to Be At the Meeting” from his wheelchair. This year he wasn’t on stage, but the group still filled the Gospel Tent with Jesus, wandering out in the crowds to touch the people. As is true every year, it was moving, breathtaking, and amazing. The crowd was on its feet, as the Harmonizers broke in to “When We All Get To Heaven.”
Unintentionally seeing yet another group through to the end, we went from there to catch the end of the Ellis Marsalis show over at the Jazz Tent. What more can you say about the Marsalis family in New Orleans? Wynton, Branford, Delfeayo, Jason…and the scion of the family, Ellis Marsalis. At this point, he’s more institution than performer. Yet, he and his four piece band played an accomplished, technical set of straight up jazz. Youngest son Jason manned the drums, putting in an extraordinary solo toward the end of the set. Ellis pretty much sat glued to the piano bench, seldom acknowledging the crowd, letting the band members shine instead. “My Favorite Things” was a real highlight, showcasing Jason’s inner Elvin Jones.
OK, now we have to get into the Van Morrison thing. Now, I’m well aware that Van Morrison is basically a saint. I know that his pre-eminence is Not To Be Questioned. He’s pretty much the Greatest Musical Genius, since Dylan. No, strike that. Reverse it. Dylan was the precursor to Van the Man. And I get that when Van Morrison brings his hat and his scowl across the Atlantic to play your festival, that’s proof that you’ve hit the big time. And I further get that Van Morrison is the window to the soul. I realize all these things, and in no way mean to question the legitimacy of Van’s Claim to the Throne. Please don't you people sue me. But at the risk of the Van-quisition getting to me...geez I couldn't stand that show. Now, before all of you write in with your lawsuit threats and “you’re an idiot” blasts, let me explain. I’ve never exactly been clear where this "Van is God" reputation comes from. Other than using more multi-syllable words and non-guitar instruments than most, I really never got the whole Van Morrison thing. To me, Van Morrison is basically Steely Dan fronted by Oscar the Grouch. More importantly, I never got why he’s such a festival favorite. Its brooding, slow, and layered music, not exactly the sort of happy, energetic, or upbeat music more suitable for festivals. It requires careful listening. Which is hard to do with five guys from Atlanta behind you screaming in your ears and blowing smoke at you. Today, the rains broke through in earnest mid-way through the Van Morrison show, yet Van didn’t once acknowledge the crowd during our stay (I understand that he did speak to the crowd early on…we never heard it). In particular, he never as much as introduced his band, or thanked the sizable crowd from sticking around during the rain. He didn’t even take a bow or acknowledge the crowd as he left the stage. A friend writing about this show thought it was really cool that he left the stage letting the music speak for itself. Maybe, but to me it reeked of “OK my two hours are up—pay me now.” On the other hand, he did have solid gold microphone stands with the “VM” logo, like a Sedan de Ville hood ornament. And alone among all Jazz Festival performers, he arranged to have huge signs flanking either side of the stage warning fans not to use video or sound recording devices, or cameras, or any other recording devices (or presumably engage in any other fun activities like talking, raising eyebrows, making too much noise while putting on raincoats). Otherwise they risked “ejection.” It was kind of like we had been allowed to take a $45 guided tour of Morrison Manor, with strict instructions not to touch, photograph, or otherwise disturb anything. At the show’s conclusion, as the rains picked up, the crowd started leaving in droves.
The post-Van plan had been to get some more food and then camp out at the Blues Tent for BB King. But even before Van Morrison concluded, the Blues Tent was overflowing with fans. Paradoxically, though the rains had kept people away, they also caused the tents to become over-crowded as people sought cover. Space on the concrete plaza outside the tent was even at a premium, an hour before the show. Whoever had the bright idea of putting the “King of the Blues” into the small Blues Tent, while the Radiators play to vast stretches of empty space against the Neville Brothers at the Gentilly Stage …well that’s just not good space utilization. Sitting on a concrete slab listening to a band play off in the distance is not a good utilization of my $45 to get in, so we gave up on BB, and instead passed the time at the Gospel Tent, catching the end of the Tye Tribbett show. I had no idea who this guy is, but let me tell you I’m coming back to see him next year. This guy is the Jackie Wilson and Otis Redding of gospel. Put together!
When Tye Tribbett concluded, we made our way to catch Richie Havens who, oddly, had been booked at the Fais-Do-Do stage. This makes the fifth performer who played Woodstock that I’ve seen live (added to Neil Young, Carlos Santana, The Who, and the Grateful Dead). Havens opened the Woodstock Festival; today he closed the New Orleans Jazz Festival. He came out in a long shirt, accompanied only with one other player on a very quiet electric guitar. His voice and acoustic guitar chops were still intact, and he played the old songs. Opening with “Maggie’s Farm,” he proceeded in to “All Along the Watchtower,” and a couple of other standards. As he introduced and began “Here Comes the Sun,” the rains ironically restarted at that very moment. It struck me how odd it was to be at a music festival listening to Richie Havens singing these songs in the rain, more than 40 years after a similar performance in the rains at the iconic Woodstock Festival. We stuck around long enough to hear “Motherless Child,” his most famous song, before leaving to catch the now obligatory end of the Neville Brothers’ show.
It proved to be a little better performance than the last few I’ve seen. The Nevilles seemed more energetic and enthused than prior years. Joined, as last year, by Big Chief Bo Dollis of the Wild Tchopitoulas, they played rousing renditions of “When the Saints Go Marchin’ In,” and “Big Chief.” In the end, after Quint Davis gave his usual effusive benediction, calling the Nevilles the “First Family of New Orleans Music” (a label that the Marsalis clan might dispute), Aaron came back out to sing “Amazing Grace.” As usual, it was a moving, touching moment. Which unfortunately some douche right behind us managed to ruin by calling his buddy on his cell phone and yelling into the phone for him to listen to the song. And then loudly carrying on a conversation with him as Aaron Neville sang the greatest gospel song of all time. That’s the down side of music festivals. From there, the rest of the Family joined in on Bob Marley’s “One Love,” after which the rains resumed, the show concluded, and the remaining fans headed off into the night back to their homes.
No comments:
Post a Comment