Some bands seem obliged to jam at Jazz Fest, even if jamming isn’t what they do best. That was partly the case in Hall & Oates’ set, with stretched out versions of “I Can’t Go For That (No Can Do)” and “Sara Smile” that collectively filled nearly one-third of a 90-minute show. (Both featured saxophonist Charlie DeChant, the senior member of their band and the one who’s been there since hitmaking days).

John Oates & original saxophonist Charlie DeChant at Gentilly Stage | Photo by Earl Perry

The jams were largely beside the point, and the point with H&O is great four-minute pop/soul singeles. Fortunately the set began and ended with a brace of those, with a four-song encore (“Rich Girl,” “You Make My Dreams”, “Private Eyes” and “Kiss On My List”) that was a jukebox in itself. Though H&O are tied to the past as hitmakers (1985’s “Method of Modern Love” was the newest song played), Daryl Hall remains a charismatic performer—and make no mistake, it’s 95 percent Hall’s show, with Oates singing but two leads. But even if they cut off in the 80s, their catalogue is full of neglected gems: Their Fest set had one minor hit (“How Does It Feel to be Back”) and one deep cut (“Las Vegas Turnaround”) and there’s plenty more where those came from.

Pete Fountain at Jazz Fest May 5 | Photo by Kim Welsh

Pete Fountain’s set amounted to a celebration of the man, who’s seen some recent health problems and had to miss a scheduled French Quarter Fest appearance. Seated in a red walker, he was joined onstage by family members including his granddaughter who played washboard; and his great-granddaughter who serenaded him with “You Are My Sunshine.” The sadder part is that Fountain was unable to do much playing: He held his clarinet throughout but was mainly there as guest of honor, smiling broadly and posing for photos for the fans upfront. Longtime protégé Tim Laughlin handled most of the clarinet lines; Fountain added a few grace notes here and there. So his fans didn’t get to hear his trademark version of “Do You Know What It Means to Miss New Orleans,” but they did get to be part of a well-deserved salute.

The one pitfall you might expect from a solo Aaron Neville set—that it would be wall to wall ballads—wasn’t really the case at his Gentilly Stage closing set: Neville made smart choices from his solo and brothers catalogue, picking upbeat tunes (“Fever,” Allen Toussaint’s “Hercules” – featuring young Jason Neville – and his own “Angola Bound”) to scatter through the set, and saving the big ballads (not the commercial ones, but sturdy numbers like Leonard Cohen’s “Bird On a Wire” and Sam Cooke’s “A Change Is Gonna Come”) for the peak moments. Neville isn’t reinventing himself at this late date: The songs (including the odd “Mickey Mouse” finale) were all ones that he’s sung for many years, and the band included familiar faces Charles Neville (who got more sax solos than he usually does with the Brothers) and guitarist Eric Struthers. There were times (especially during the doo-wop material) when you wished the band was better at rocking out, but Neville’s voice was perfectly angelic, without the occasional raspiness that’s shown up in recent years.

Aaron Neville closed out the Gentilly Stage May 5 | Photo by Kim Welsh

The post Jazz Fest Recap, Sunday, May 5, 2013: Meter Men, Hall & Oates, Aaron Neville & More! appeared first on OffBeat.com
Like OffBeat on Facebook
Follow OffBeat on Twitter
Find out who's playing in New Orleans tonight

For a certain stripe of blues fan, the older, wilder and more obscure the performer the better. If you’re of that mindset, you probably saw Drink Small, the 80-year-old South Carolina bluesman who’s been playing various joints for the past half-century.  The opening of his set, where he delivered a borderline-risque rap and then a song about how all guys should marry nurses, would have you thinking you’d struck gold. The rest of the set was a good deal loopier, as he played some very familiar songs—“Stand By Me,” “Little Red Rooster” and James Brown’s “I Feel Good”—in not-quite familiar ways, changing keys and lyrics at will. Backed by a tireless rhythm section (including drummer/writer Ben Sandmel), Small navigated the fine line between idiosyncratic genius and just plain wrong.

Drink Small (Photo: Earl Perry)

Thursday is traditionally family day at the Fest, which doesn’t mean you can’t get away with some innuendo: Fronting the Honeypots at Lagniappe, singer Margie Perez delivered a playfully sexy number whose chorus went “If I knew you were into Latin girls, I would’ve taken a chance.” Meanwhile at Economy Hall, Aurora Nealand sang a version of “Ain’t Nobody’s Business” that retained all the suggestion in Bessie Smith’s version and probably added a little. I expected zydeco’s queen of the double entendre, Rosie Ledet, to complete the trifecta, but she played a largely G-rated set, possibly because her own daughter was onstage with her (Ledet also let it be known that she’s become a grandma). That didn’t make her sound any less sprightly—she believes in keeping the songs short and fast, and she introduced a nifty one about the Rock ‘N’ Bowl.

He hasn’t released it yet, but Shamarr Allen has his hit: Once “My Girl Doesn’t Have Enough Sex With Me” gets out, he’ll be a patron saint to frustrated guys everywhere. It’s one of his classic-R&B styled songs, with a funny (but respectful) Michael Jackson mention in the lyric. When he played it at Congo Square he had most of the guys, and a few of the gals, singing along in agreement.

A rock band that impressed me at last month’s Freret Street fest, Gravy made their Jazz Fest debut at Lagniappe. This time they had a four-piece horn section, and some of their freer jams went into Galactic territory. But as on Freret, the highlight was a version of Pink Floyd’s “Fearless”—one of the Floyd’s few moments of outright joy, and one that translates well to gospel-rock context. The band’s own deep-Southern styled ballad, “Monterey” wasn’t far behind.

Patti Smith invokes "WOW." (Photo: Earl Perry)

Since last weekend’s George Benson set was for more enjoyable than expected, it seemed a good occasion to check out another jazzman who crossed over to smooth R&B success in the ‘70s/early ‘80s, namely vibraphonist Roy Ayers. His set at the Jazz Tent opened with some of the material that made him a hit back then: Elegant disco with cosmic overtones, completely enjoyable now that this kind of music is all but extinct. Ayers played MIDI vibes which sounded tinnier than real ones, but allowed for more variation of sounds. Unfortunately he followed that with Dizzy Gillespie’s “Night in Tunisia,” a classic tune that became a springboard for overlong sax, bass and drum solos, with a zillion melodic quotes and the tune itself falling by the wayside early on. Never thought I’d ever say this about anybody, but Ayers’ set needed less jazz and more disco.

On to Patti Smith, who was starting “Because the Night” as I arrived and went into frantic versions of “Banga” (with longtime guitarist Lenny Kaye doing the dog barks) and “People Have the Power”, a high level of intensity that I was told she’d maintained for the full set. There was a short breather on a piano/vocal Neil Young ballad, “It’s a Dream,” which she slotted in because “I didn’t do as much yakking as usual and we zipped through our set.” Then came the encore segue of “Land” into “Gloria,” a moment designed to inspire and to empower: As the song peaked for the third or fourth time, Smith made her testimony: “We have our blood. We have our imaginations. And we are fucking HERE!” Never mind if you’re too cynical to go to concerts looking for epiphanies: This was one.

The post Jazz Fest Recap, Thursday, May 2: Patti Smith, Roy Ayers & More appeared first on OffBeat.com
Like OffBeat on Facebook
Follow OffBeat on Twitter
Find out who's playing in New Orleans tonight

The funky blues guitarist they call the Wolfman only let opportunity pass him by once. One night in the early ’60s, Joe Tex, soul master and fixture of R&B scenes across the South, walked into a tiny club in Thibodeaux called the Sugar Bowl and found the teenage Walter Washington onstage with his group. So impressed was Tex, still a few years away from national success with “Hold What You’ve Got,” that he immediately pressed the boys into service as his backup band. But Walter, still only nineteen and having never left the borders of Louisiana, timidly stayed behind. The regret was more or less immediate, but short-lived; a few days later, the bass player for another New Orleans soul legend, Lee Dorsey, came into the club. Then riding high with “Ya Ya” and “Do-Re-Mi,” Dorsey was also looking for a guitarist. This time, Washington jumped at the chance—and the minute he walked into the lobby of Harlem’s legendary Apollo Theater, he found his old band there waiting for him. Turns out Tex was also on the bill that night.

Walter "Wolfman" Washington plays Jazz Fest on May 5. (Photo: Golden Richard III)

Between about 1950 and 1975, the rich New Orleans R&B scene interacted on a regular basis with the national entertainment business, and Walter “Wolfman” Washington was right in the thick of it, one of New Orleans’ last living links with what was arguably its commercial and musical zenith. As he tells it, the interplay amongst musicians on the scene was not just collaborative but magical. “During the Dew Drop (Inn) days,” he recalls, “You only had to go two, three blocks, you’d find four people who had three big hits. You could walk down the street anywhere and hear music: more guitar players in certain neighborhoods, and more horn players in others, but music everywhere. You could sit in a club, they wouldn’t even have to be playing and you would know they were musicians by the way they conversate. You’d have to go in them clubs, battle with different musicians—that’s how you get recognition. And still you could walk down the street with your instrument and them cats would come up to you and say, ‘Let me show you how to play that.’ They’d teach you things. Thank God I caught on the tail end of that era…”

Music is walking, talking art history, which is why the Wolfman’s guitar style (and to a slightly lesser extent his voice) remain cornerstones of Jazz Fest. Equal parts blues grit, funk moves, and jazz improv, it combines most of the city’s defining musical characteristics into one roots music singularity. Whatever the Crescent City version of Americana is, it comes out of Mr. Washington. As the nephew of Lightnin’ Slim, he also had an impressive pedigree; but suggest that the city’s not the first place you’d expect to find blues, and he’ll just laugh. “I was raised in church, in the choir,” he says now. “The New Home Missionary Baptist Church. I started out playing spirituals by myself—in those days, you didn’t have no bass player and drummer for a spiritual group; you only knew three or four different chords, because a spiritual group didn’t have too many chords. I learned how to play rhythm and chords on the road with Lee. It was like a door opening for what I wanted to do.”

Walter "Wolfman" Washington (Photo: Golden Richard III)

Walter still had a lot to learn before he could transform into the Wolfman, however, “When I started to listen to different guitar players on the radio, I started picking different cats that matched that certain something within in me that I heard—almost a sanctified rhythm. Then I heard Snooks [Eaglin] and the way he soloed—he did it in a way, he already knows the note he’s gonna pick that’s gonna flow with that chord he’s on. I started listening and watching Earl King, who was utilizing certain notes within the chords, creating a certain energy. Johnny “Guitar” Watson, he could either project roughness or smoothness with the same note.”

Walter had come a long way as a sideman—even playing lead on Dorsey’s big hit “Ride Your Pony”—but his final stage as a musical novitiate came during the two decades he spent with his true spiritual/musical mentor, the Tan Canary himself, New Orleans’ own Johnny Adams. Another soul legend, Irma Thomas, had let the guitarist sing on two songs a night, but he had trouble doing both at once. Johnny, who also played guitar, sat him down and taught by example. Together, they became renowned for their late night performances at Dorothy’s Medallion Lounge, a black mecca and go-go joint smack in the middle of Mid-City. “Johnny helped me to understand how to really project what I’m feeling and not slow my body down,” Walter claims. “See, you got to really be in tune with your body, you actually maneuver it to a point where you get it the way you want to use it.” Not just your hands, or your throat? Everything? “Oh yeah. I felt myself utilizing different parts of my body.”

Believe it or not, that also included using his mouth on the guitar—Wolfman picked up his famed teeth-picking stunt by watching another elevated R&B sideman, Jimi Hendrix. But it took practice: “It kinda hurt. I had the wrong technique, I got my teeth loose, you know what I’m saying! I learned it’s not how much strength you use, it’s how to feel where you at. I musta got shocked about three or four times before I learned not to use my tongue to guide my teeth,” he laughs.

By the Eighties, he’d progressed enough to begin a belated solo career in earnest. There’d been 45s—a version of Big Boy Myles’ “Mickey Mouse Boarding House,” on the Maison de Soul label, was his first—but it wasn’t until 1981 that he was offered a real record contract, again thanks to Adams, who hooked Walter up with “Senator” Jones, the very last of the city’s indie label moguls. John signed him to the local Hep Me label, where he released “Rainin’ in My Heart,” an LP with some promise. But the struggles of finding local airplay in a conglomerated music business soon frustrated John, and Walter was on his own again until Rounder’s Scott Billington signed him in mid-decade.

By that time Walter had honed his own band, the aptly named Roadmasters, to a sharp point, the kind of fully instinctual group Washington had dreamed about for years ever since seeing Betty Wright’s band open for Dorsey back in the day. “Them cats,” he marvels, it was like—it was a band that played music, not just instruments, you know? I closed my eyes and said, if I ever get up there, I want to have a band that sounds like that.” He found a drummer right in his neighborhood, who shared his vision, but he still needed bass, and James Booker suggested Jack Cruz, then playing with J.D. Hill. “We must have jammed for an hour and a half,” the Wolfman marvels, “and we didn’t say nothing to each other. Finally Jack says, ‘Gimme one year, let me finish my obligation to J.D., and I’ll play with you the rest of my life.” 27 years later, he’s still right behind him.

So is Walter’s hometown—he’s been there for it, after all. (He was one of the first musicians to play after Katrina, walking into the Maple Leaf one week later and plugging his guitar amp into a generator.) So in demand is Washington that he also has a steady side gig as a trio with organist Joe Krown and drummer Russell Batiste. Yet Wolfman’s first studio album since 2008’s Doin’ the Funky Thing, which he expects to release later this year, finds him stretching out musically, just as if he were still the young unknown performing with the city’s first generation of leading lights. “I want to do a Christmas song, probably an original, just to see what it would do,” he muses, and it’s unclear whether he’s talking about its marketability or its groove. “I feel that I can reach another level of understanding what funk is all about, from my point of view.”

And though he doesn’t rest on his accomplishments, his rep continues to grow. A few years back, Mayor Nagin recognized Walter’s invaluable contribution to Crescent City culture by declaring April 30 “Walter Wolfman Washington Day.” It usually falls during Jazz Fest, so naturally all Washington does is play that day. He sees it, after all, as a sacred duty of sorts, a way of passing down the traditions he learned walking the streets of the city in its musical heyday. “I feel like I’m being recognized as one of the pillars,” he says when pressed about his reaction. “And Jazz Fest is when everybody understands what New Orleans’ best musicians are doing. It’s like when the Mardi Gras Indians came out. That’s their special thing. It’s like preserving a culture.”

Like a jazz guitarist, he keeps doing conversational variations on this theme. A true believer, he wants to make sure I understand. “Those old musicians, you see, we called them ‘shepherds.’ They passed it down. The young guys, we need someone to explain to them the energy of it, why you choose certain instruments. It’s about more than learning how to play—you know that it’s a gift that you have. A vibration.” He relaxes a little. “It’s not a hobby.”

 

The post Walter “Wolfman” Washington’s Spiritual Vibrations appeared first on OffBeat.com
Like OffBeat on Facebook
Follow OffBeat on Twitter
Find out who's playing in New Orleans tonight

Order a collector's copy of our June 2004 issue with Frogman's cover story!

 

He can sing like a girl, he can sing like a frog… and today he’s 76. OffBeat wishes happy birthday to one of the heroes of New Orleans R&B, Clarence “Frogman” Henry, who first hit in 1956 with the immortal “Ain’t Got No Home.” His use of female and frog voices made the tune a novelty smash, but further hits, “But I Do” and “You Always Hurt the One You Love,” proved he could also sing it straight. The Beatles were fans and had him open their show in 1964; OffBeat’s September 2004 [order now] issue had a look back at that historic tour. Frogman’s performances are fewer these days, but when he does hit the stage the joy in his performances is as infectious as ever.

Here’s one of our favorite Frogman nuggets: “Troubles, Troubles,” the original B-side to “Ain’t Got No Home”. Note the contrast between the woe-is-me lyric and the celebratory feel of the tune; a depression-beater if there ever was one.

The post Happy 76th Birthday, Clarence “Frogman” Henry appeared first on OffBeat.com
Like OffBeat on Facebook
Follow OffBeat on Twitter
Find out who's playing in New Orleans tonight

Eric Lindell has never been someone to stay in one place for very long. The R&B singer/guitarist has seen his share of high times and hardships in his comings and goings. But like the familiar breeze he often rides off on, in his own time, he winds his way back, sketching songs until he’s settled. His soul is his style — and luckily for him, it suits him just fine. On his most recent outing, I Still Love You, Lindell hangs his heart — and his heartbreak — on his sleeve. It’s a story that the San Mateo, California native knows all too well: he’s been singing its songs for a while.

Buy I Still Love You on iTunes

Buy I Still Love You on Amazon

Akin to Lindell’s previous endeavors, his soothing croon lights I Still Love You’s way. And though his emotions leave him out to dry at times, his songwriting and steadfast fretwork always reel him in.

On his last album, West County Drifter (2011), Lindell picked up wily bluesman Delbert McClinton along the way. This time, McClinton’s pals, guitarist Anson Funderburgh and keyboardist Kevin McKendree, hang around for a few cuts. Like McClinton, they make the most of their ride, particularly on the twangy shuffle of “Back Stabbin’ Jones.” Throughout the album, the camaraderie Lindell initially cultivated with string bassist Myles Weeks and drummer Will McMains on Drifter cruises. In the rare moments when I Still Love You wanes, New Orleans pianist Marc Adams and (underrated) saxophonist Brad Walker are there to lift its sails. After praying to the Queen of Soul (“Aretha, Sing One for Me”), vowing to change his ways (“Let’s Live for Ourselves”), running from the past (“Trouble”), and hitting rock bottom (“Cold November”), Lindell turns the corner (“Love’s Gonna Live Here”) and realizes that wherever the wind blows him, his heart belongs to rhythm and blues.

The post Eric Lindell, I Still Love You (Sparco Records) appeared first on OffBeat.com
Like OffBeat on Facebook
Follow OffBeat on Twitter
Find out who's playing in New Orleans tonight

Dave Ferrato is a Quarter Rat with an eye for storytelling detail and an ear for the classic currents of New Orleans R&B. This is an extremely polished and professional effort for a first album. The expert ministrations of Mark Mullins as producer and arranger ensure that technical quality, and Mullins assembled an outstanding cast based around the rock-solid rhythm section of George Porter Jr. on bass, Michael Skinkus on percussion and Doug Belote on drums.

Buy Later, On Decatur on iTunes

Buy Later, On Decatur on Amazon

The gentlemen swing the R&B-influenced street rhythms of Ferrato’s cleverly written and engaging songs, which take you on a merry romp through the streets of New Orleans from Pigeon Town to South Rampart Street to the eerie “Tchoupazine Triangle.” Ferrato sings with convincing passion and gets an assist from the phenomenal Leigh “Little Queenie” Harris on the rollicking “Same Old Story” and “Back for More.” James Singleton and Johnny Vidacovich take over on bass and drums for the atmospheric title track, which evokes a late, fog-enshrouded night walking along darkened streets near the river. The song is the album’s centerpiece, with a moody string arrangement and a haunting trombone solo from Mullins, whose playing is even more nuanced than usual on a record that obviously has special meaning to him. This song could become a New Orleans classic, along with the rumba-tinged “Candy Lady,” the boisterous “Feelin’ So Unnecessary,” with its great horn track and exchange of solos from all the band members, and “Round Here,” the ironically topical story of a bar that got closed down by the police. Mullins enlisted his Bonerama bandmates for the brassy “When I Get Home” and gets outstanding performances from Jason Mingledorff and Joe Cabral on tenor sax (check out Cabral’s monster break on “You Been Runnin’”). All in all this is a great illustration of how much damn good music exists per capita in this magical city.

The post Dave Ferrato, Later, On Decatur (Independent) appeared first on OffBeat.com
Like OffBeat on Facebook
Follow OffBeat on Twitter
Find out who's playing in New Orleans tonight

Wayne Cochrane and the C.C. Riders are a legendary soul band known for the near-hysterical performances of the white-pompadoured Cochrane, whose variations on black soul singers were arresting enough to earn releases on both the Chess and King labels. Cochrane’s histrionics were over the top, but his bands were always of the highest caliber. The Allyn Robinson Project’s Full Circle is a reflection of the quality of those bands. Robinson was Cochrane’s drummer when one of his partners in the rhythm section was Jaco Pastorius.

Buy Full Circle on iTunes.

Buy Full Circle on Amazon

The high-powered mix of R&B, funk and electric jazz Robinson plied with Pastorius is carried over to Full Circle, which features another Cochrane alumnus, guitarist Harry Henry Hahn. As you might expect, Full Circle is an expertly made, beautifully performed party album with terrific grooves cut by Robinson and bassist Chuck Archard. Hahn and Archard supply the album’s originals, which are cleverly designed and eclectic but only occasionally stand-alone material. Like many crack backing groups, this band lacks a coherent personality. Nevertheless, Robinson, a sought-after figure on the New Orleans roots music scene, and the rest of the members of his project can be justifiably proud of the outstanding playing on this record.

The post The Allyn Robinson Project, Full Circle (Independent) appeared first on OffBeat.com
Like OffBeat on Facebook
Follow OffBeat on Twitter
Find out who's playing in New Orleans tonight

After co-founder Lowell George left the band Paul Barrere became co-leader of Little Feat with keyboardist Bill Payne. A lifelong fan of New Orleans music, Barrere often plays with Louisiana musicians, and his slide guitar work has a rhythmic subtlety and sophisticated funk that reflects his New Orleans influences. Little Feat’s latest album, Rooster Rag, features some of Barrere’s most inspired playing. It’s the first album the band has recorded since the death of original drummer Richie Hayward.

Little Feat. Photo by Ashley Stagg.

You wrote the song “Just a Fever” with the late Stephen Bruton.

Stephen and I hooked up years ago. We were playing in Austin and we went to an AA meeting together, back in the days when I was still going to meetings. So here we are years later, still sober individuals and glad of it and so forth. We had a conversation that went sort of like this: “Why is it that aging musicians, whenever they have a conversation, it turns into an organ recital? So we decided, let’s write a song about rock and roll that describes the pitfalls of it while at the same time being locked into it. And how can we fit the term ‘delirium tremens’ into it?” We had this concept musically and lyrically and we just kind of toggled it off together. We use the fever as a metaphor for substance abuse. I really enjoyed Stephen and working with him, he was such a gentle person.

I’ve seen you sit in with the Radiators, Anders Osborne and some other New Orleans players. How did you get to be friendly with so many New Orleans musicians?

I’ve known the Rads forever. I think the first time I met them was when Catfish Hodge and I were bumming around as the Bluesbusters. We did shows with the Radiators. Dave Malone and I, I think we’re brothers from another mother. We always hit it off pretty well. I’m a big fan of so many of the New Orleans musicians. The music scene in New Orleans is mind blowing to me when I come down to do my little things for Jazz Fest. Those cats do three, four gigs a day. They go from one gig to another. Eric Bolivar has been playing with Anders Osborne these last couple of years, Fred and I come down to do a thing with Anders. He’s always running off after our gig to do another gig. Then he’s got another one coming up at 5 a.m. Where do you guys get the stamina to do this?

When you joined Little Feat the story goes that the band turned in a direction more towards New Orleans music. Does that ring true to you?

Little Feat before myself and Sam (Clayton) and Kenny (Gradney) were very cerebral. If you listen to the first two records there’s some incredibly diverse music on there. But the one thing that they didn’t do really, really well… I hate to bust ‘em on this, but they didn’t boogie. When you listen to the original “Tripe Face Boogie” it sounds pretty stiff. I think what happened when Sam and Kenny and I joined was we brought in some funk. It just got a little more soulful, and I think they all appreciated that.

Had you been listening to the Meters?

I’d been listening to just rock ‘n’ roll. I was always an enormous fan of Fats Domino. Little Richard was my favorite. When I was 11 years old and I heard “Tutti Frutti” on the radio I grabbed a dollar out of my little cigar box stash money, went down to the corner, got on a bus at Sunset Boulevard, went down to Sunset and Vine to Wallach’s Music City, found the 78, got it, and got on the bus back home. Got a pretty good ass whipping from my dad for taking off like that but I had “Tutti Frutti” and “Slippin’ and Slidin’ on 78. That was the first record I ever bought. I said this is the shit! If you can sit still while listenin’ to this kind of stuff with that drum beat…

Well you know those records were recorded in New Orleans with New Orleans musicians.

Absolutely. When I finally started getting serious with the guitar and I was really into the blues, it just kind of took me to New Orleans where a lot of that stuff happened. Before that, when I was even younger, my father was such a huge fan of Louis Armstrong we’d be listening to Satch on the Victrola all the time. How can somebody be that funky?

So Louis Armstrong taught you lessons about phrasing and rhythm even before you began playing?

Oh yeah.

I can hear that in your playing.

I have my parents to thank for that.

When you come to town who do you want to sit in with you?

We always ask John Gros to come sit in with us. And whatever guitar players are around. It’s funny they have this thing down in Virginia called the Bayou Boogaloo, down toward Norfolk, where we met Trombone Shorty — who’s a great guitar player, by the way, in addition to his trombone playing. Hopefully Bonerama might show up. We were playing somewhere out in Montana with them and the generator went out in the middle of our set. We were playing some kind of funky thing so Dave just kept playing his funky beat and Fred was playing his trombone, and the next thing I know all the cats from Bonerama are up there on stage with their horns and they’re blowing with Fred, then they started doing a second line through the audience. People were going wild.

The post Paul Barrere of Little Feat’s Louisiana Connection appeared first on OffBeat.com
Like OffBeat on Facebook
Follow OffBeat on Twitter
Find out who's playing in New Orleans tonight

Click here to view the embedded video.

When Chuck Brown died on May 16 this year, it marked not only the loss of a great musician, but the rare passing of a cultural founding father. Brown is credited with creating and popularizing go-go, a subgenre of funk music that, despite ups and downs in national and worldwide popularity, has remained a potent musical and cultural force around Brown’s hometown of Washington D.C. and its environs.

Tonight, two of New Orleans’ biggest go-go fans—the Brass-A-Holics and DJ Soul Sister—join forces for a go-go tribute to Chuck Brown at Tipitina’s. The Brass-A-Holics, winners of the 2011 Best of the Beat Award for Best New Artist, play a go-go influenced style of New Orleans brass band music they call “go-go brass funk”. DJ Soul Sister regularly pulls from her deep collection of go-go records both on the radio and at her shows, and opened for Brown at his last two concerts in New Orleans, in ’07 and ’09. Doors for tonight’s show open at 10 p.m., and tickets are $10.

Those interested in go-go will be glad to know that a 1989 television documentary called Go-Go Swing has been uploaded to YouTube. The doc features Brown and other go-go artists performing and talking about the history of the genre. You can watch the first of six parts above, and the rest below.

The post YouTube du Jour: Go-Go Swing Documentary appeared first on OffBeat.com
Like OffBeat on Facebook
Follow OffBeat on Twitter
Find out who's playing in New Orleans tonight

Premium advertising platform it may be, but Champions Square is no place to spend an afternoon in July. At 4 p.m., at the Essence Music Festival’s Block Party I can’t find any unoccupied shade and so I push to the front of the stage to stand outside the umbrellas of wiser audience members. MC Lyte is visible behind of table with a MacBook Pro. She says, “I know things haven’t been real professional here, but one thing I do know how to do, and that’s rock a mic.” People applaud as much as the humidity allows.

Essence crowds love singalongs, and Lyte dishes them out, playing ’90s era hits by this weekend’s artists. Mary J. Blige’s “I’m Going Down”, SWV’s “Weak”, Carl Thomas’ “I Wish”, all get a good response from the 100 or so people. Unaware that MC Lyte was now DJ Lyte, I wait for “Paper Thin”, a track I get asked for every other week by a regular at my bar gig. She definitely can rock a crowd, even if we only see her head above the laptop. The set ends and DJ Spin (the New Orleans male, not the Salt-N-Pepa female) takes over. Rain clouds gather and soon erupt. I end up taking cover in the doorway of the defunct Rotolo’s on Rampart with a couple from L.A. who don’t share their fried catfish.

An hour later, I enter the Dome to the sound of Tank, but decide to head upstairs.

The Verizon Superlounge is nearly empty when I arrive. When Robert Glasper takes the stage with his band, he welcomes “all 20 of you. Actually, I wanted it this way. Very exclusive.” Glasper has great comedic timing and delivery. “There’s a line of a thousand people outside right now.” The crowd grows throughout the show, but begins as a cluster of younger fans who are with Glasper and his Experiment from the get go.

With Glasper’s keyboards serving as the adhesive, his band members shine individually and as a unit. Casey Benjamin on vocals, vocoder, keytar, and tenor provides the edge, manipulating his voice with effects and inserting both solos and complimentary sounds that rough things in important ways. Bassist Derrick Hodge may produce the most innovative sounds of the quartet, going thick then fragile to change the directions between songs. Like him, drummer Chris Dave builds drama, often through steady monotones, then bursts with the band back into a new realm. Yes, I guess I really dug this band.

Glasper’s humor is tied to his weird virtuosity, a kind of “watch this” tendency that works well with the outfit’s raw material, i.e. the last 30 or so years of Black music. Their freeness with references and their collaborations with vocalists like Bilal and Musiq Soulchild creates a sound that feels, well, evolutionary. This evening, after worrying about D’Angelo’s future for a day, I feel a little better that the enduring inheritance of later 20th-Century jazz, neo soul, and hip-hop will continue. Several audience comments suggest those factors are in the air.

“What you know about Herbie Hancock?!” the man behind me shouts playfully. The man in front of me turns and says, “He’s no one else—he’s Robert Glasper.” “Well, that’s Herbie Hancock.” Both of them are right. Benjamin leads an update of Michael Jackson’s “Lady in My Life”, complete with auto-tune and well-placed feedback squeals, that slays everyone. Later, Hancock guy incorrectly identifies a version of Common’s “The Light” as a Slum Village cover. The dude next to him and I both correct him—it is a Dilla production but for the Chicago MC, not the Detroit group. “Afro Blue!” another man requests. “Yeah,” Glasper jokes, “Erykah (Badu) is right back there, hold one.” When he announces the last song, a young kid shouts, “Play some Dilla!,” which is stupidly disrespectful and, as we all note, ignorant of the fact that, well, Dilla’s been up there all night.

The minute Glasper and co. stand up to leave, the Stylistics fans move in, creating an instant generational shift. Middle-aged men and women now sing along to the piped-in “Superfly” and await the Philadelphia sound.

Tonight’s emcee, Chuck Perkins, informs us that four of the original members are here, and then the band kicks in. The gentlemen take the stage in matching gray suits. They sound, look, and move flawlessly, masters of the show. “You Are Everything,” “I’m Stone in Love with You,” “You Make Me Feel Brand New,” all the hits, many of them introduced with “The year was 1972,” or “1982,” etc. When they do “You’re A Big Girl Now”, man, I’m elevated. I stick around for about half the set, then make my way to the floor.

We heard about this last night, but apparently comedian Kevin Hart wants no cellphones, photos, video, or—the most amazing part—tweeting during his set. As the lady next to me explains, “He’s big time now.” You can sort of see his point, not so much that his content will be stolen but that audiences in later tour stops will have heard the jokes already. How this plays out, though, serves neither him, nor the Dome security, who are forced to watch over us and pick out offenders, a thankless job. Since Hart requested silence, all I will report was general hilarity that revolved around his recent divorce and wrapped with some okay stories about his kids. The closing rap was borderline homophobic and involved a Spanish accent. Also, he uses large flames.

The crowd is much larger than the first night of Essence Fest and no one is getting up now, not with the “Queen of Hip-Hop Soul” about to arrive. When Mary J. Blige takes the stage, you understand why she holds the record for Essence appearances. Female empowerment and resilience have never known a greater clarion than Mary J., the Oprah of soul. She works herself into a sweat, still looks good, and has an endless list of hits to deliver. On several, the original music videos play behind her. Throughout, the giant screens on either side of the stage show her stalking from right to left, demanding respect with her lust, asking for better, and proving she cannot be stopped. She covers fellow fest acts Chaka Khan (“Ain’t Nobody) and Charlie Wilson (Gap Band’s “Outstanding”). At one point, I see Mayor Mitch Landrieu on the monitor as Blige shouts out all the females undaunted by negative comments. I hope he enjoyed “Family Affair” as much as I did.

The post Essence Music Festival on Saturday: Robert Glasper, The Stylistics, and Mary J. Blige appeared first on OffBeat.com
Like OffBeat on Facebook
Follow OffBeat on Twitter
Find out who's playing in New Orleans tonight