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| Willie Nelson |
OK, I actually have some things to write about. Other than, you know, the (alleged) history of American music substituting as a review for some local band, or "hey did you ever notice" social commentary based on some random event I saw that day.
Basically, it was a day of highs and lows.
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| Someone likes the mud |
To start off, I've been freezing all day. And I spent much of the afternoon and evening caked in mud. I've been this cold before, and I've been this muddy before. But I've never been this cold and this muddy at the same time. Yesterday's front stuck around today in the form of morning rain and then 60 degree temps with constant wind. That doesn't sound like much, until you factor in that everything at the Festival was wet, then muddy. And when you take into account that I prepared for 90 degree days, I didn't have the proper clothes to deal with the elements. My feet were soaked all day, and that's not too comfy. I had to run all over the West Bank to find a functioning raincoat, which was the only thing keeping me out of the deep freeze. Nothing like squishing with every step. Yeah, I found some "shrimp boots" but stupidly decided not to buy them. Bad idea.
Then after chasing around looking for raincoats and dashing over to the Festival in time for the opening, I found out they delayed the opening by an hour. So, standing around for an hour in line waiting for it to open. I saw proof positive that this isn't a local festival--a woman was waiting in line wearing an Atlanta Falcons jacket. That's grounds for an ass kicking in most parts of town. About the only thing worse would be wearing an Alabama shirt in Baton Rouge. I met two older ladies from New York who come down every year for the festival. We talked about the "superstorm" and other stuff. The two drunk guys behind me were talking about fishing. And how their bloody mary buzzes were wearing off. Important stuff. I thought the one guy in cammo gear was really going to have a freak out if the bar didn't open soon. Oh, and then this young couple, also behind me, got into a really uncomfortable fight. Basically revolving around him objecting to her wanting everything so highly organized, and her objecting to him. I tried to tell the guy to back off, but he just kept on talking. With the inevitable results. Dude, when Chris Reeder knows its time to shut up before you do, you really need to rethink your whole approach to women.
Once in, it quickly became apparent that the extra hour the Festival organizers took to prepare the field was a complete waste of time. The place basically looked like the Ho Chi Minh trail. (modern reference). Or Port Arthur. Whatever they did, it didn't work. So very quickly in, everyone was in mud up to their knees.
But why let a little squishiness stop you from enjoying the day? First I went to the Holly Williams show. I had no idea who she is. Turns out she's related to that Williams. The Hanks. She doesn't really trade off it though, other than keeping the name. It definitely wasn't the family's style music. Basically, it was introspective country ballads about love and life. Though she did play "I Saw the Light." Her voice reminded me of Shelby Lynne. By the way, whatever happened to her?
Next up was the New Leviathan Oriental Foxtrot Orchestra's annual appearance at the Economy Hall tent. As you may recall, these folks all wear Captain Stubing outfits and play music from the 1900-1920 era, along with weird instruments like the theramin. Its like the music in every Woody Allen movie. Or what you'd imagine you'd hear on the Titanic. And not ridiculous Enya "music." Oldsters and youngsters alike packed the place, as they do every year. Kids danced with their parents, along with older couples. Everyone loved it and cheered every song. Its great that these songs aren't dying along with the generation that produced them.
This left me only enough time to hear a couple songs from the Iguanas. One thing about the mud...it forced the thicker crowds into narrower, less muddy walkways. That made it harder to move around from stage to stage. So it was more difficult to see as many acts. I don't really know what the Iguanas are about. They're a long-time, very successful New Orleans club act. I vaguely remember seeing them back when I lived here. And I remember not really liking them much. Today, one song was some sort of Latin dance song. The other was a rock and roll song. What's going on here guys? But I didn't give it enough of a listen.
OK, next it was on to eat and then catch the Mavericks. They've long been a favorite, but I thought they broke up. Turns out they recently reunited. I never realized there's about 30 members. It was some kind of circus with things happening all over the stage. One guy thought he was Eddie Van Halen. The keyboard player was some sort of performance artist. The lead singer was about the size of two people. All in all, they're more energetic and rocking than I remember. And..a little more Latin too. Imagine Ray Price combined with Los Lobos. Festival director Quint Davis emceed, giving their show the official imprimatur of Importance.
Then it was local favorite Papa Grows Funk. I'd heard of this group but never actually seen them. After reading good reviews, I resolved to check them out. Well, yes, its "funk." While its pretty good when its uptempo (though lots of the songs sound like some sort of porno soundtrack), its still kind of like a bad Neville Brothers song without the harmonies. Most songs, though, were ponderous, dark dirges that frankly bored me.
Marcia Ball was playing around the same time, and gave yet another great performance. When does she ever have an off show? Its bound to happen at some point, right? But in all the years and all the shows I've seen her, I've not seen one flat performance. She always gives you your money's worth. That's no doubt why she's a Louisiana and Jazz Fest legend. And sadly, the DJ on WTUL with tonight's shift couldn't even pronounce her name right. Shameful.
Then it was on to Gal Holiday and the Honky Tonk Revue at the Kids' Tent. This is a recent Jazz Fest find from a couple of years ago. Western swing, jazz, country...its all fun and its the kind of music you might hear at the Broken Spoke. Lots of covers (George Jones, Johnny Cash, Elvis Presley), and some original material. They really connect with kids. I think its because they play fun music and talk directly to the kids. And Gal Holiday wears super bright clothes.
Finally, the day closed with Willie Nelson. He just turned 80, in case you haven't heard, but is still going strong. This guy's going to outlive us all. He played Jazz Fest last year so I was a little surprised he came back so soon. But I guess at 80, with all the miles he's put in, there may not be too many more Jazz Fests. The show was great, the huge crowd swimming in the mud loved it. I couldn't quite figure out something though. His heroes have always been cowboys, but he doesn't want mothers to let their babies grow up to be cowboys. That contradiction just doesn't make any sense. Maybe its Waylon Jennings' fault. Everyone sang all the songs, and Willie actually played some really nice guitar solos. Marcia Ball and Holly Williams came out at the end and joined him on "Will the Circle Be Unbroken." A great end to the day's music.
So, near the end of the show as I'm standing right next to what looked like a swamp, Willie threw his headband into the crowd. And, guess who caught it? This guy. That's right. Me. I own Willie's headband. Unfortunately, it was sort of like fans trying to catch a home run. About 10 people fell on top of me in the melee, pushing me into said swamp. To show you how weird I am, as it was happening, all I could think of was the old Steve Martin line, "Into the mud, scum queen!" I could have dealt with that fine. But my expensive Canon camera and telephoto lens also wound up in the swamp. Ordinarily that would have totally ruined my weekend, but after all, I got Willie's headband. Someone told me later he doesn't sell those things on his web site or anything so it should fetch a good price on eBay. Which I won't do. I wiped off my camera later with a damp rag, but its still covered in dried mud. So if anyone has any ideas on how to clean it enough to make it the rest of the weekend, please let me know.
Before I freeze to death.
OK, back to the title. David Sedaris told this joke about a year ago at his Austin reading. Here's the set up: "What's the worst thing you can hear when you're blowing Willie Nelson?"
TOMORROW: Fleetwood Mac, Terence Blanchard
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