On the dark, winding, old Breaux Bridge highway, a neon sign outside the former King Creole club flashes: "Saturday at 9 p.m. Fernest and the Thunders." Inside it's 9:30 p.m., but Fernest is behind the bar using the pay phone.

He hangs up the phone and heads for the stage. Only a handful here tonight and most of those are employees. Fernest doesn't look much in the mood.

A friend moseys into the bar as the Thunders are tuning up. She orders a beer and complains a bit about her cramps. A...