New Orleans Jazz Fest, Weekend 2 – Friday

This is the day where you start to feel the previous week of Jazz Fest catching up to your body. The feet ache and the walk between the 2 stages at the opposite ends of the racetrack seems sometimes too long to bother. I think if any of us stopped to calculate, we’d find over 150 hours logged onto our tired feet.

Rather than try to catch bits of acts happening simultaneously in different locations we start to linger longer and rest. Food demonstrations in the air conditioned grandstand seem worth missing music for; full sets seem easy to commit to rather than wandering. Rich sauces and exotic spices of the crawfish remoulade, fried oyster po-boys, trout almondine wreak digestive havoc. The lack of access to vegetables and non-fried food has us seeking out healthier fare, for instance the extra vegetables found in a pre-fest bloody mary ritual at Liuzza’s.

Not feeling strongly about any the first acts, we started as usual in Gospel. The Wimberly Family Gospel Singers were everything you want in a gospel act –passion, rhythm, great wailing vocals and a band that had the Gospel tent rocking – I don’t remember seeing a better lead guitarist on that stage. Found ourselves there for the entire set, meaning we only caught the last song of We Landed on the Moon at the Acura stage. Enough to confirm that they did indeed sound a bit Blondie-ish with a few more teeth the write up said, definitely have to check them out if they return next year.

Ingrid Lucia drew us into the Lagniappe stage and brought back an early Jazzfest memory. Years ago on a first Friday, driving in from the airport, with the local radio community radio station WWOZ pre-set to every button in the rental car, we heard Ingrid being interviewed live from the festival. It was her first year back in New Orleans after an unconventional childhood on the road with her street performer father, Papa Nutrino. As part of a travelling performance artist road show troupe, she played with her tap dancing, trombone playing cousin Todd in NYC. Her was voice, cutesy, breathy and pure, while she played original compositions reminiscent of Billie Holiday. We were captivated as we waited in the long line to get into the festival parking. We arrived in time to see her and loved her voice, attitude, and stage presence. In the clubs later that week, she also showed a bawdy side, and we’ve been fans ever since. On this Friday, we found her with a fuller sound. She was joined on stage by Mark Braud on trumpet, John Gros (of Papa Gros Funk) on keys, John Fohl (Dr John’s band) on guitar, Rene Coman (bass player for Iguanas) and drummer Walter Harris.

Next was a stop back into the Gospel for another almost perfect gospel set. The Bester Singers and Dynamic Smooth Family Gospel Singers had the tent rocking again. After that we made an effort to check out the Soul Rebels Brass Band. As brass bands go, they deliver, funking up the larger Acura field.
If you have to see only one show in New Orleans, make it a brass band – it is a sound and feeling of sheer joy that I’ve never been able to capture anywhere else. I also think the brass bands scene is as strong as it has ever been. They were followed by Bonerama, a rock band fronted by three trombones, cranking out originals influenced by their loves – classical, New Orleans funk, classic rock and all things Zeppelin and Sabbath, as well as covers true to the original but seemingly reworked due to the peculiarity of a trombone as a lead instrument, often electrified on a wah wah peddle. Marco Benevento really helped fill out the sound on the Hammond B3 organ.

Alex McMurray played in heat of the day at Lagniappe, so hot his linen pants were a wrinkled mess. He had Matt Perrine on upright bass, Carlo Nuccio on drums and Bill Machlow on organ. He played a mixture of old Royal Fingerbowl (his old band) and new solo stuff from his Threadhead Records release How to Be a Cannonball. Alex has always written well, has a great sense of humor, a strong singing voice and can out-banter anyone, but what has impressed me most lately is his guitar playing.

For closers, we decided to let the teenagers in our midst lead. Lupe Fiasco on Congo had us in the midst of the college crowd who was way into it, but unfortunately, I’m not as cool as I thought because I still don’t get the joke. Glad to check out the full sound of Arcade Fire, the energy of lead singer Win Butler and the guy in back on keys (which the kids in my house tell me is brother Will) hammering some drums. Usually more than three singers belting it out at once are enough for me, and it worked for a few songs, but just couldn’t hold us. But the beauty of Jazz Fest is that you can check out bands and they can either get you to stay the whole set, or there are 10 others stages to check out.

We should have wandered over to the Fais Do Do stage to dance to Nathan and the Zydeco Cha Chas, but hearing Gregg Allman’s growling blues voice coming from the packed blues tent just steps away, and sore feet rebelling, we decided to end the day there. The tent was unapproachably crowded at the start of the set, but by the end you could work your way up front. He closed with strong versions of Allman Brothers classics such as “Whipping Post” and “Statesboro Blues” to an approving crowd.