As I drove to the New Orleans All Star Jam-Balaya, I passed a small pack of Hilary Clinton supporters half-heartedly waving an upside down “Hilary” sign at passing cars. A couple of Native American Indians were walking Colfax in their traditional wardrobes, but they walked like they were going home, not like they had an agenda.
The New Orleans show was hosted by Friends of New Orleans, and though it was scheduled to start at 8 p.m., the first act – Lauren Barrett – went on at 7:30 when the doors opened. She was backed by Donald Harrison and his band, who also backed Mary McBride for a version of Otis Redding’s “Freight Train,” Johnny Taylor’s daughter(? granddaughter? I don’t remember) for a song, before he led the group, which included Walter “Wolfman” Washington, in a few Mardi Gras standards. That set was done before significant numbers were there.
I’m told 2,000 tickets were sold for the show, tickets going for $500 a pop. Not bad, and though another 1,000 would have made for a more impressive audience to play to, it was a solid audience. It beefed up after the Louisiana Delegation party ended, when some of the delegates and performers from the show made their way to the Fillmore for the event. With tickets going for $500, it was obvious there was money in the room, but it sometimes took an eye to spot it. There were a lot of men in blue sport coats and Dockers, which they wore like the casual dress of the wealthy, but the people I spotted in the crowd that had real money dressed down further. Not rock ‘n’ roll T-shirts, but no jackets, no shirts that had recently been adorned with ties – genuine casual wear.
After a video and recognition interlude as the stage was reset, we got a half-hour of “Brother Ray,” a theatrical performance based on Ray Charles’ life. The assumption everyone around me made was that the producer of the show – or some backer – broke off a check to Friends of New Orleans big enough to get the preview of the show on the bill. It was fine, but the “huh?” factor was hard to get around, particularly in a show that promised to be long without Ray.
Also in the crowd – Lt. Governor Mitch Landrieu, Senator Mary Landrieu and, later in the evening, former mayor Marc Morial. There was some speculation as to whether or not Mayor Nagin would show, but he didn’t. The area near the entrance to the backstage was the unofficial New Orleans cocktail party, and most of the people in that area were visiting from New Orleans or used to live in New Orleans. Actually, the whole show had more of the vibe of a cocktail party than a concert, complete with an open bar and Louisiana food (though the gumbo was burned and should never have been served).
The next segment was the Wild Tchoupitoulas accompanied by the Soul Rebels, and they entered from the back of the room and snaked through the crowd before the Indians went to the front of the stage and the Soul Rebels made their way to the stage for three songs. Two security people tried to get people out of the way – “A band will be passing through here” – as if people wouldn’t know enough to get out of the way of a man in feathers or a marching band.
After another short round of speeches and videos about post-K New Orleans, the Voice of the Wetlands All-Stars came on with Henry Butler subbing for Dr. John. Actually, the All-Stars seemed to sub for the New Orleans Social Club as designated backing band. After two V.O.W. songs – “Bayou Breeze” and “Louisiana Sunshine” – the set lost any political edge it might have as they backed Butler, Marva Wright, Marcia Ball, Irma Thomas and Big Chief Monk Boudreaux. All fine, but nothing special. At 11:15, Tab Benoit made the first openly political statement from a musician, pleading for protection for the wetlands, going so far as to point out that we need to protect the wetlands for the oil refineries. Probably true, but not the emotionally strongest appeal. Before Benoit, what political content the evening held came in videos or when the Women of the Storm through toy footballs to the crowd that read, “One football field of land washes away every 50 minutes.”
The night’s final set started with the Meters (with the String Cheese Incident’s Kyle Hollingsworth subbing for Art Neville) and Walter “Wolfman” Washington backing Randy Newman for “Blue Monday” and “Louisiana 1927,” the latter also featuring Terrance Blanchard. Allen Toussaint soon replaced Newman, and Blanchard was joined by Donald Harrison, Big Sam, Trombone Shorty and James Andrews. The crowd was noticeably smaller, and the set made the Ray Charles segment seem even more of a grievous addition because this was the set people needed to see. In the Indians and the Soul Rebels, people saw cultural practices kept alive. People thanked the Soul Rebels when they walked through the crowd after their performance. But this set was all about the joy of being alive and New Orleanians’ gift for improvisation.
Allen Toussaint sat at his piano in the middle of a funk jam and pounded his piano like it had been a bad boy, playing as hard as I’ve ever seen him play. During “Yes We Can Can,” Marcia Ball and the faux Raelettes ran onstage to wing some backing vocals and a little choreography. During the Meters’ “You Got to Change,” Harrison ran on for a quick sax solo that didn’t look scheduled. During “Hey Pocky-Way,” every horn soloist went off, going straight for showstoppers and high notes, high-fiving each other while someone else played. Periodically, George Porter, Jr. reminded people that Kirk Joseph was in the back corner on tuba, but the vibe of the horn line – goofing then killing – was a statement unto itself. When they closed with “They All Asked for You,” Zigaboo Modeliste dedicated it to Barack Obama, and everybody was playing so hard that Porter had to take off his bass and clown with the horn line until someone could give it back to him in some semblance of tune.
As a night of New Orleans music, we’ve all seen better. Nothing bad, but few moments of brilliance. As a political event, it’s hard to gauge not having seen enough political musical events to gauge. It’s hard to imagine anybody learned that Louisiana needs help last night, and though they might not have known all the details, the attendees likely knew what has happened and been happening. I left with the suspicion that the political act took place when the ticket was purchased, and everything after that was gravy, but it’s something to think more about.
