IM SO...??? Im so happy just to live in New Orleans and I dont ever plan to leave, so all of yall are just gonna have to get used to me! And now, entering my 4th year as a resident, I am definitely New Orleans enough to know better than to say Im so New Orleans just because Ive lived here for a few years. Most of you know the short story. I was born in Vicksburg, raised in Shreveport, lived in Austin for many years and moved to New Orleans a few years ago. But for someone who wasnt born or raised here, I have a lot of history here and this seems like a good time and place to explain, just in case any of you have ever wondered or youre interested just how I fit into this picture. If not, this would be a good place to stop reading. You see, its kind of a long story. My mom was from here and my maternal grandparents lived here, as did most of my relatives on her side of the family, going all the way back to the 1800s. In fact the only reason my dad (who was from Illinois) took a job in Shreveport when I was just a baby, was so my mother could finally be back in Louisiana, closer to her family in New Orleans, after moving her and my older siblings all over the Northeast and Midwest. For me, this meant that my mother and I would jump in the car or take the train down from Shreveport four or five times a year, every chance we could - so we could visit her parents and her sister. My dads job required lots of travel, so from the time I was old enough to remember, mom and I would stay sometimes for weeks at my grandparents house on Fontainebleau, while he was on the road. This was perfectly fine with me. My moms sister, Aunt Martha and her husband and kids lived right around the corner on Audubon, next door to D.A. Harry Connick Sr, before Harry Jr was even born. My first Mardi Gras was in 63 and by 67, me and my cousin Connie were allowed to ride our bikes all over uptown to follow the parades, as long as we reported back occasionally to party headquarters at another relatives balcony apartment on St. Charles. I spent summers and holidays here. I grew up watching Morgus and swimming at Ponchartrain Beach. I learned to fish with my Uncle Billy, first on Grand Isle and then after Hurricane Camille destroyed his little cabin, in a boat on the brackish water canals all around the area. I bought comic books and Barqs in the bottle from the Time Saver and bought my records on Canal St (cant remember the name of the record shop, but it was a happening little spot, where kids would hang out, spin the hits and dance in the aisles on Saturday afternoon). I bought my guitar strings at Werleins and back-to-school clothes at D.H. Holmes, where my Aunt Pearl worked and later at a hippie boutique in the quarter that carried the kind of clothes my rock heroes were wearing. I got mugged on one of these excursions into the quarter, in a pay toilet and robbed at knifepoint. I was only 11, but I didnt tell anyone. I was afraid my mom would stop letting me go there on my own. I remember The French Market when it was actually like a farmers market - my grandfather, an artist ( who I am named after) would take me down there every Saturday morning to buy fresh produce. We would see guys bringing huge stalks of bananas right off the boats and once I saw a giant tarantula crawl off of one. My grandmother was the editor for the society column at The Times-Picayune, which meant that even though they lived on her meager journalists salary and my grandfathers military pension, they got to attend some of the big, fancy Mardi Gras balls. One year, when I was 9, I got to go to the Rex ball for a little while before my sister came and took me home. I am glad for the experience, but hated the costume I had to wear, a frilly frock coat w pantaloons and stockings. In 1969, on Mardi Gras I saw The Meters perform on the back of a flatbed truck. Leo had a headband around his Afro, and was playing a Fender - from a distance I thought it was Jimi Hendrix and rushed over there in time to see a small gang of Mardi Gras Injuns face off in front of the stage. I think it was Big Chief Jolly and his gang, but Im not certain. By 1971, my cousin had her drivers license and wed go see concerts at The Warehouse. I saw Mountain, The Doobie Bros, Canned Heat, Dr John, Savoy Brown and others there. By the late seventies I was out of high school, old enough to drink, get into bars and do whatever I wanted. I was traveling a lot during this time, but whenever Id hit New Orleans I had one thing on my mind: live music. I saw Johnny Vidacovich and James Singleton when they were still very young playing with heavy jazz cats twice their age. I saw some of the earliest Radiators and Neville Bros gigs. I met James Black one night at the old Tipitinas ( when the bar was where the soundboard/dance floor is now and there was no upstairs balcony bar). I hung out with him all evening and didnt even know he was a drummer until he called and asked for a ride to a gig in the French Quarter the next day. Every Tuesday, Id hit Tylers on Magazine at happy hour, to eat 10 cent oysters and drink $2.00 pitchers while listening to Ellis Marsalis. Occasionally, people like Nat Adderly would join him. Often, his teenage kids would get up and astound everyone. From there, it was off to the Maple Leaf to catch James Bookers second set. I dont remember it ever being very crowded, but always insanely good! I went to my first Jazzfest in 78 and have been almost every year since. By 82 my band signed on with The New Orleans Booking Agency and I was playing at Tipitinas, Maple Leaf, Jimmys and Jeds (which eventually became Tupelos). After hours, I would often go to Old Absinthe House, where Luther Kents Trick Bag would just be taking the stage at 3am with what to my ears, was the greatest band this side of Ray Charles, w the great bandleader and arranger, Charlie Brent on guitar and the unbelievable David Lee Watson on bass, both alumni of Wayne Cochrans CC Riders and both gone way too soon! Im telling you, that band was the shit! Other nights Id go to Bennys and listen to Walter Wolfman and Timothea (rest her beautiful soul) or Gerald Prof Shorthair Tillman (rest his beautiful soul) and JD and the Jammers or Cyril Neville and the Uptown Allstars, who sometimes would have me sit in, a big thrill for this young up and comer. I saw the sun come up many mornings on Valence and Tchoupitoulas. It was also around this time that I heard about a place called the Glass House and a brass band that was playing hard funk. These days, thats the style - but back then, The Dirty Dozen were straight up innovators, breathing much-needed new blood-life into a glorious, old traditional format. Very exciting to see the birth of such a revolution. In 82 I met Michelle on the Riverboat President and in 84 the Dozen played our wedding at The Columns Hotel for $300. Just a few weeks later they were on Johnny Carson and recording w Elvis Costello, moving on up. My buddy who knew Charles Joseph hooked that favor up for us. To this day, I consider Kirk Joseph to be one of my best friends. Same goes for Cyril Neville, who around this same time frame recorded with my band, The Killer Bees, which put us on the national and international radar and effectively helped to launch a young mans career in music. That brings us up to 1985. Its late and I think Ill save the rest of this for my autobiography. What got me thinking about all this was everyones posts yesterday about Im so New Orleans. Loved reading those, especially from those of you who are native New Orleanians and have spent your entire lives here. I would never compare my experiences to yours. I just realized at a very young age that New Orleans is where I feel the most at home. I know I am not so New Orleans, at least not yet. I will have to live here a lot longer to make that claim. But as far as I am concerned, New Orleans is so me.
Posted on: Wed, 23 Jul 2014 08:10:10 +0000
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