New Orleans Jazz Fest, Day 7, Sunday
During the last day of Jazz Fest, you can really feel the music slipping through your fingers from the moment you enter the grounds. You find yourself saying goodbye to stages, people and food. The people part bears a little more explaining. If you’ve been attending for any length of time, you meet people in bathroom lines, at music stages, dancing in the dust at the Fais Do Do stage, in clubs, everywhere. You exchange names and memorize faces and find yourself hugging and missing people you only see a few days per year.

I Felt like I missed more today than I saw but I just couldn’t stay in a “fly all over the fairgrounds” mode. How did I get through 13 days in New Orleans without more than 5 minutes of the Rebirth Brass Band? Did I really miss Sonny Rollins? I promise myself every year that I’ll make time for Mem Shannon who always puts on a great show (and did again this year) but I didn’t. I Have watched the young Cajun band Feufollet grow up before me each year but just didn’t get to the Fais Do Do stage in time. How can you not at least stop by Kid Rock and see what’s happening? I didn’t even make it to the bands I just wanted to check out – Generationals and Punch Brothers! And after years of closing Jazzfest with both the Nevilles and the Radiators, trying to guess which half of the set would have the Nevilles at their funkiest, I just didn’t even make it to Acura for the Nevilles.

I never got the best Jazz Fest food of recent years the Cochon de Lait Po’ Boy, or the new Balsalmic Strawberry Sorbet my mom raved about first weekend, nor had my own Crawfish Bread but luckily my friends and family didn’t mind when I chomped on theirs. Where had Jazz Fest gone?

The real challenge is to embrace what you saw and did and say your goodbyes however you are most comfortable. I started the day Tommy Malone’s (subdudes) new band Mystik Drone. Tommy featured David Torkanowsky on keys and sax, Carlo Nuccio on drums, Shane Therroit on guitar and Johnnie Ray Allen on bass (his brother Dave Malone from the Radiators also sat in for a song or two). It sounded great, but it didn’t sound that different to me from Tommy and Johnny Ray’s first band, the subdudes – I think it is because Tommy has such a distinctive voice. Then I made my annual pilgrimage to see if Anders Osborne will finally win me over. I go each year because so many people I respect love his music. So I made it to the Acura stage and caught the last half of his set and finally got it. His guitar playing was driving, his songs expressed his emotion, and he surrounded himself with other great musicians – Stanton Moore, Carl Dufrene, Billy Iuso and Eric Bolivar. The songs ranged from guitar jams suggesting Neil Young at his hardest to love songs for his wife to standard rock songs questioning the love and actions of various women in his life. And judging from his continued shaggy look (though decidedly more groomed than a year ago) and the hirsute musicians on stage with him, the fans were there for the music not to gaze at what was once a very easy-on-the-eyes man. It made me wish I had arrived earlier in the set, but will definitely give him another chance when he’s up north.

I arrived too early for the Papa Grows Funk set but knowing they are tighter and more instrumental early in the set, stayed while they set up. I’ve been seeing this band for years and not sure if I’m just grown more demanding given the plethora of funk bands in New Orleans or if they just haven’t kept up their funky end of the bargain, but they no longer compel me to remain for their whole set. Next was Henry Butler on keys in the blues tent for a quick song or two and then rushed off to see the Bluerunners reunion show. I’ve always liked their mix of rock, Cajun and zydeco. It was enjoyable and well worth the trip across the fairgrounds.

Leaving the Bluerunners I stopped by Congo Square stage to get a quick fix of the Rebirth Brass Band, but soon had to leave to see Michael Franti and Spearhead, and found his music compelled me to stay a while. Such a beautiful person, so upbeat, so positive. Love and the Jazz Fest vibe flowed over the crowd with a huge pinch of dance. Wearing what appeared to be a hand-drawn white t-shirt emblazoned with writing, he skipped all over the stage. After commenting on the huge barrier between himself and the crowd (the photo pit and the more or less empty VIP area separating him from the crowd by about 25 feet), he invited members of the crowd up on stage and was joined by about 10 women and one guy, this was a jazz Fest first for me. I left just before the ending, vowing to see him the next time he comes to town, because I wanted to check out a band getting a lot of press – the Fisk Jubilee Singers. Unfortunately we arrived while they were doing a strange cross between opera, gospel and something else I didn’t like, and didn’t stick around long enough to give them a chance. This song turned out to be an anomaly, and we ended up missing a great band.

Having recently rediscovered the Preservation Hall Jazz Band, along with everyone else, I made one of my few forays into the Cox Economy Hall where non-stop traditional jazz and old-time dance and big band music make their Jazz Fest home. PHJB is no longer your father’s Preservation Hall. It is an old institution that has been re-vitalized with an influx of younger players like Clint Maedgen and Mark Braud who provide hope that the traditional NO jazz tradition will both continue and evolve in the coming years. They sang a traditional Jazz version of “I scream, you scream, we all scream for ice cream” and tossed out free ice cream during an extended drum solo. They brought out a pair of swing dancers with aggressive throws and jumps and solid Charleston moves for a few of their songs adding a bit of langiappe to the set.

I found myself back in the gospel tent in a front seat for Leo Jackson and the Melody Clouds, a solid gospel act. Given that I had a seat, I decided to stay for Glen David Andrews. His recent gospel album earned him a time slot in the Gospel Tent (as well as an earlier in the week set at Blues). Both were different shows but had him joined by quality musicians such as trumpeter Irvin Mayfield, his cousin Trombone Shorty and the young fiddler Amanda Shaw, among others. I kept trying to pull myself away especially as he stretched songs beyond their natural breaking limit, but his energy and clear happiness with being there plus a curiosity about what’s he going to do next kept me there for his entire set. Will he crowd surf the gospel tent like he did the Blues tent a few days earlier, who will he invite onstage next? When he invited the near full crowd to come down the aisles and dance in front of the stage they were initially thwarted by the security guards, so then he came to the people, one time dancing down the aisles, sitting in the middle of the tent and handing his microphone to a 16 year-old women to take her turn at singing (her voice blew the roof off the place) and trading verses with her. As a finale he delivered his last two songs standing on a chair in the front row center, surrounded by the crowd.

I ran off to catch a little of Bobby Lounge, whose shtick I find irresistible and whose lyrics I find hilarious. Then I decided to forego the Neville Brothers in order to catch the Radiators. The band had announced its retirement earlier this year and there were only a few shows left, one of them being their traditional final day closing set on the Gentilly stage, a spot they have held since 1989. I weaved through a large but loosely packed crowd to the front of the stage, stopping for a quick dance with a happy random stranger and heard the last 6 songs. They were joined by Warren Haynes, Dave Malone’s brother Tommy , the Bonerama horns, Michael Doucet from Beausoleil and other friends, so they had plenty of support. Even the jazzfest powers that be gave then due respect by allowing them to start their last song 25 minutes past the normally rigid and sacrosanct ending time of 7:00. (Perhaps making up a bit for losing a real opportunity to honor the band by putting them on the 2011 official Jazz Fest poster instead of Jimmy Buffet) Several year ago at their 25th year as a band, they billed themselves as “too stupid to stop” but unfortunately Ed Volker, lead songwriter and vocalist, got wise. They will be missed, and one can only wonder who will be the next band to deserve closing stage on the final day next year and beyond.

So that was it, the final note from the Radiators was not only theirs, but also signaled the end of Jazzfest for 2011. Too many bands to count just now, too much rich New Orleans food, not enough beer, and a lot of marked up and cross referenced and wrinkled music schedules sitting in a pile of dirty laundry.

Anyone know the way to Bonnaroo from here?