Legys Does Jazzfest!
New Orleans Jazz & Heritage Festival
April 24 – May 3, 2015
By Trevor Leeden
A decade on from the devastation of Katrina and now in its 46th year, this mighty celebration of the musical and cultural heritage of New Orleans and Louisiana grows like a snowball down a mountain slope, not that you’re ever likely to see one in these parts. However, whilst some things remain unshakably and reassuringly the same, the winds of change are also impacting upon JazzFest. New Orleans is a city fighting both internally and externally to maintain its unique heritage, and some of this struggle seems to have permeated into JazzFest.
Above all else, it is a glorious musical marathon, superbly run and spread over seven days and two weekends, across a dozen different performance stages that cover the entire musical and entertainment spectrum. It celebrates with wild abandon the musicians of Louisiana, the Mardi Gras Indians in their vivid finery, cultural workshops, and the truly magnificent – and cholesterol inducing – cuisine, in the most benign of atmospheres. However, it is the roster of international acts that raises most eyebrows and questions whether JazzFest is losing touch with its musical objectives. The reality is that big name artists draw in the crowds which ultimately pay the bills, but this year’s headliners were thinner on the ground than previous years and included the likes of Pitbull (seriously!), Tony Bennett & Lady Gaga, Elton John, Chicago, Ed Sheeran and T.I. Perusing the timetable grids highlighted larger than normal ‘black spots’ across all stages and all days, where the artists failed to inspire interest (or perhaps it’s a consequence of complacency in seeing the same artists over and over). Still in all, despite the weekday crowds appearing to be down, overall attendance of over 460,000 punters suggests that the organisers know what they are doing – “play the music and they will come” would seem to be an ideal mantra.
Entry tickets boldly proclaim “Rain Or Shine”, a fortuitous disclaimer given New Orleans’ notoriously fickle weather. The steady stream of yellow school buses rolled out to the Fair Grounds Race Course under leaden skies on the first weekend, and torrential storms called an early closure to the first day and a suspension of play for an hour on the second day. The second weekend was played out in blazing sunshine and high spirits, a festivalgoer’s delight.
Regardless of the conditions, having a plan and sticking to it is essential. The foundation stone of each day is what to eat and drink; alligator pie, blackened catfish, soft shell crab, pecan pie, Cajun boudin balls, crawfish remoulade, crab meat stuffed shrimp, gumbo, shrimp and grits, and a variety of po’ boys (cochon de lait, shrimp, crawfish) make choice difficult, but JazzFest just wouldn’t be the same without a daily injection of the ‘Holy Trinity’ – Crawfish Monica, Mango Freeze and freshly squeezed Strawberry Lemonade. Intermittent visits to the WWOZ Brass Pass hospitality tent, where hickory flavoured iced coffee and mountains of fresh fruit await, provided respite for aching feet and restored energy levels. And so to the music………
Day 1 (Friday): Let’s get this party started.
Johnny Sansone’s blues harp kicked off the Acura Stage programme. He’s a mighty fine player, not dissimilar to Chris Wilson in many ways, and the early attendees were treated to a set of raw blues that featured songs from his upcoming album Lady On The Levee and some stinging guitar work from former Dr. John sideman John Fohl.
New Orleans funk was on show with the Honey Island Swamp Band before Wayne Toups’ accordion underpinned a scintillating set of Cajun inspired covers, the highlight being a simply stunning rendition of ‘Tupelo Honey’. He’s a great player and the perfect appetizer for the guitar onslaught that followed.
The sky was ominous, but not on as threatening as the blitzkrieg performance by the Tedeschi Trucks Band. Large in number, massive in sound, husband and wife exchanged torrid guitar licks with one another for 80 minutes before Derek brought the crowd to a frenzy with a final withering solo that even brought the band – and Susan – to a halt. The crowd loved their brand of Southern blues rock, although some found the endless solos bordering on the mundane and, um, pretentious!
Hidden behind the grandstand, the tiny Lagniappe Stage provided an unexpected highlight with a wondrous performance by the Magnolia Sisters. Ann Savoy is, quite simply, Cajun royalty, and with her ‘sisters’ Jane Vidrine, Lisa Trahane and Anya Burgess held the audience spellbound as they delivered a masterclass and history lesson in traditional Cajun music. Check out their latest album Love Lies, it’s fabulous.
Curiosity of the day was on the Gentilly Stage. Pigeonholing Irish singer Hozier is easier said than done, and his set was outstanding. Contemporary rock, flecks of gospel and folk, whatever his music is, it was a powerful performance that raised the young crowd to delirious heights as they sang along to ‘Take Me To The Church’; the day’s surprise packet.
The transformation at the Acura Stage had to be seen to be believed for the day’s headline act. Gone were the Tedeschi Trucks male acolytes, replaced by a sea of cowgirls eagerly awaiting the arrival of Australian country pop heartthrob Keith Urban. Urban under deeply threatening skies is one step too far, and after the opening song it’s time to seek a safer haven. Bypassing Wilco (their last JazzFest appearance was less than impressive) and an uninspiring Jimmy Cliff, sanctum was found in the Jazz Tent (it is JazzFest after all) where the day’s biggest conundrum was resolved – Snarky Puppy is not a person but a smokin’ 9-piece jazz/funk/fusion ensemble. They had barely warmed up when the show was unceremoniously terminated (many were unsure whether they had actually finished or were interrupted mid-song!) along with the other stages due to the deluge falling across the fair ground. Word filtered through that, showing a healthy streak of home grown larrikinism, Aussie Keith soldiered on for a further ten minutes at the Acura – respect!
Day 2 (Saturday): Under gathering clouds, a day for greatness.
Little excited during the first few hours (a recurring dilemma it has to be said) and so it was a late entry to the festival, Tommy Malone’s closing song from Gentilly wafting over the track, followed by his apology for the inclement weather (as if he had anything to do with it). As the heavens erupted and play on outdoor stages was suspended due to the horizontal rain, the best place to be was in the tents, and all were jam packed. A pity for them, for over at the Fais Do-Do stage, the happiest of venues, Louisiana legend Warren Storm and his sidekicks Willie Tee and Cypress started anyway in front of six hardy (and soaked) devotees, including Rhythms. Resplendent in red and white and broad grin, Warren raged against the storm and played foot stomping, mud spattering set of home grown Louisiana swamp pop that remains memorable. The Lil’ Band O’ Gold may have called time but Warren Storm rocks on.
The Jazz Tent was humming all day. The crowd spilled outside to see legendary Nawlinz pianist and family patriarch Ellis Marsalis. Ellis kept his contributions to a minimum, relying upon his front line to drive proceedings, and despite the sound being adversely affected by the storm he was rapturously received. The Marsalis legacy to New Orleans is incalculable.
Trumpeter/vocalist Jeremy Davenport was the first of two disappointing shows as he chose to stick to the less serious, mainstream side of the road, even indulging in moments of Rogers & Hart shtick (OK if you like that sort of thing) and his overall performance was not of the high standard set in 2013. Chanteuse Cassandra Wilson followed Davenport and the less said about her Billie Holiday tribute the better, a major disappointment given the accolades afforded her new album Coming Forth By Day, a superb celebration of Lady Day’s centennial.
The Alison Miner Music Heritage Stage conducted two outstanding interviews. Angelique Kidjo had the audience in the palm of her hand, entertaining the crowd with a spellbinding rendition of ‘Petite Fleur’ (check her out on YouTube) and her joy in interacting with people was palpably evident. Producer/hip hop mogul Mannie Fresh was a revelation, highly entertaining with not a small amount of humorous asides. When asked what it would take to get Big Tymers back together he retorted, “some noughts and a few commas would be a good starting point”…money speaks all languages it seems.
There was really only one place to be if one wanted to witness true greatness. The throng started to mount prior to the arrival of Ivan Neville’s Dumpstaphunk on the Acura stage, who delivered a pulsating, tight set of New Orleans funk and R&B, with the mighty Art Neville sitting in on keyboards and vocals. As high grade funk as it was, there is no getting away from the fact that after half an hour, each song bore a sameness that reaffirmed it was all about the feel, not the song.
At 5:00pm under grey, drizzling clouds, it was time for the main course. The crowd had swelled to tens of thousands, some as young as thirteen, pushing back as far as the eye could see to witness one of JazzFest’s greatest ever performances (not my words but those of the stage announcer post-event, no argument here though!). The Who (pointedly announced as Townshend and Daltrey, their six sidemen not being captured under the banner) entered and from the opening chords of ‘I Can’t Explain’ until the gut crunching finale of ‘Won’t Get Fooled Again’ two hours later, proceeded to enthral the audience with a greatest hits package that left no song unturned and larynxes sandpaper dry. Pete doesn’t jump as high any more, but there’s no finer practitioner of guitar power chords on the planet, and every windmill strike of the strings was greeted with rapturous approval. Roger doesn’t hit all the lesser notes these days, but when it came to the big moments he totally nailed them, refusing to allow Father Time to lower the key. There were mistakes, some hilarious, that were absorbed into the performance, like Townshend starting a completely different song to the rest of the band due to him referencing an old setlist, and later he inadvertently introduced ‘Pictures Of Lily’ (a particular highlight for Rhythms!) when it was abundantly apparent that it had not been rehearsed. With thirty minutes left, the sun broke through the clouds like some divine blessing. It closed with the introduction of the touring band, Simon Townshend (guitar), long serving bassist Pino Palladino, three keyboard players (John Corey, Loren Gold and Frank Simes) and finally, to rapturous applause, Zak “Noisy Little Fucker” Starkey. It was, by any length, the best Who performance Rhythms has ever witnessed, and if this is to be the final tour then Townshend and Daltrey have gone out in style. In doing so, they torched JazzFest and threw down the gauntlet to any pretenders wishing to better them; for the record, none did. If there is ever a justification of such festivals required, then here it is: for $58 there has been over 80 acts to choose from, eight hours of music, rain and sunshine, and the best live band on the planet – what a bargain!
Day 3 (Sunday): Some lesser lights shine.
Jon Cleary is arguably New Orleans’ pre-eminent funk and R&B pianist and with his superb trio the Absolute Monster Gentlemen (Derwin ‘Big D’ Perkins, Jellybean, Cornell Williams) he delivered a sublime performance on the Gentilly stage. The man simply doesn’t know how to play badly.
Some great action in the Blues Tent. The Little Freddie King Blues Band warmed the crowd up nicely before a stinging set from slide guitarist John Mooney and Bluesiana . Mooney’s pyrotechnics were outstanding, but bringing out guest slide guitarist Paul Barrere (Little Feat) was a master stroke as they exhorted one another on to greater heights.
The Congo square stage was awash in the African rhythms and French vocals of Anjeliique Kidjo that built upon the rapport she showed at her interview the previous day. The sheer vibrancy of her performance was embodied in the extraordinary sight of her descending into the crowd (as security staff went ballistic!) before returning with 30 concert goers who proceeded to dance onstage for the balance of the show – as public and joyful an expression of love for ‘her people’ as one is likely to witness.
Inspired choice of the day was to forego Irma Thomas, Allen Toussaint and Rebirth Brass Band shows in favour of Béla Fleck and Abigail Washington at the Fais Do-Do (old JazzFest saying – ‘You can’t see everything, so choose wisely’). The husband and wife banjo virtuosos turned in a sublime performance drawing heavily upon their outstanding eponymous album, and there was nary an Appalachian mountain man to be seen. Rhythms immediately retreated to the CD tent to make the purchase!
Back in the Alison Miner, the venerable Delbert McClinton was laying to rest some untruths and myths in a highly entertaining interview. McClinton was at his feistiest when queried about his place as an Americana musician, “that’s not what I am” was his immediate retort as he went to great pains to define his music, and debunking some Beatles myths along the way. McClinton then closed out the day in the Blues Tent and Rhythms went away content in the knowledge that another hero has finally been seen in the flesh.
Delbert didn’t have a lot of competition as the day’s headline act. Pitbull was never in the equation and the oddly vanilla sound of Jimmy Buffett and the Coral Reefer Band may have appeal to Louisianans (it’s their festival after all) but didn’t create a ripple of attention in Rhythms headquarters; this left Tony Bennett and the pint sized Lady Gaga at the Gentilly. Clearly, plenty of people wanted to see them, but all their performance did was disturb a peaceful walk to the shuttle buses. Bennett was ok; clearly Gaga is trying to re-invent herself and on the evidence failing dismally, her singing a screech and evidence she was way out of her depth. Crazy clothes and disposable pop may be a good career alternative.
Day 4 (Thursday): The weather’s cleared, it’s ‘Local Day’, a time for home grown artists to shine.
Cedric Watson and Bijou Creole never disappoint and today is no exception. Watson’s accordion and fiddle has the crowd stomping as he amply demonstrates that he remains a Cajun maestro. Right up there with him is the charismatic Steve Riley & the Mamou Playboys, a long time crowd favourite. Earlier in the day Riley was the subject of a highly entertaining interview where he detailed the influence of the legendary Dewey Balfa had on him, and the advice he took to heart – “find your own voice”. A later response to an audience question about playing an “F Sharp accordion” brought the house down!!
The Word is the project of pedal steel maestro Robert Randolph, keyboardist John Medeski, the ubiquitous Dickinson brothers Cody and Luther, and their North Mississippi Allstars colleague Chris Chew. To say they blew the crowd away with their incendiary performance would be an understatement of biblical proportions as they showcased songs from their spanking new album Soul Food, their first in 14 years. Rhythms immediately headed for the CD tent! The Word really is ‘The Word’.
Georgia based Southern blues jam band Widespread Panic never fail to satisfy their devout grassroots following which, judging by the hordes standing in front of the Acura stage for over 2 ½ hours, is in no danger of diminishing any time soon. The Dickinson brothers made a guest appearance, and nobody played fewer songs for a longer time!
Rhythms had earmarked three acts as ‘must see’, and the second took to the Gentilly stage. Anyone who worries about the future of alt-country need look no further than Sturgill Simpson. Imbued with the spirit and sound of Waylon Jennings, his hour long set was just wonderful, crackling with raw energy and spurred on by a crowd that sensed that here was the future of American country music; “Waylon would be proud of you” was a commonly recurring chant. To the side of the stage, members of Union Station stood and watched, nodding their approval to Sturgill. As big a revelation as Simpson himself was his Telecaster wielding guitarist Laur Joamets; the Estonian (!!) gunslinger stood motionless throughout, splicing extraordinary slide riffs into the mix and was jaw dropping good.
What should have been the crowning glory of the day turned out to be a disappointment. Whether what preceded them (Simpson) had an impact is supposition, but Alison Krauss & Union Station sounded flat, the sound mix terrible, Krauss’s voice strangely anaemic and her ghostly visage (those eyes!!) failed to connect with the punters.
Day 5 (2nd Friday): An uninspiring roster meant a late start. This turned out to be a godsend, having stayed out late to watch Alejandro Escovedo take a blowtorch to Chickie Wah Wah’s the night before.
Curiosity was written on the face of the crowd as cockney neo-soul singer Paloma Faith took to the stage with her stunningly attired (as was she) big band. When she addressed the audience in her broad accent, curious became downright bewildered. Nonetheless, she delivered an upbeat set that suffered from a certain sameness and a lack of high profile material. Mighty good looking gal though!
Following Faith came local funk supergroup Galactic, but they were disarmingly lacklustre, and musical coherence has seemingly gone out the door. The introduction of guest vocalist Macy Gray was ill-conceived and did nothing to address the malaise, in fact it had the opposite effect as she bordered on the unlistenable. The love affair with Galactic is officially over.
In the Gospel Tent, the Soul Queen Of New Orleans strutted her stuff to a rightfully adoring audience. As fine as it was, Irma Thomas’s truly great moments come when she sings secular songs and there were none on offer in the gospel tent today. She did look wonderful it has to be said.
Being the son of a legend can’t be easy, but Shooter Jennings with Waymore’s Outlaws gives it his best shot. Dad would no doubt be proud of his boy, but I bet Shooter wishes he was Sturgill Simpson!
In an interesting piece of programming, Gurrumul performed in the Blues Tent. Fortunately, the sheer spirituality of his music transcends genre, and his hour long set was played before a full house that provided Gurrumul with a richly deserved standing ovation. There was plenty of Antipodean pride on show in the Blues Tent!
Headline acts across all stages again proved a disappointment, making the decision to pull stumps an easy one. As the brassy sounds of Chicago (still containing four original members!) wafted over the bus queues, Rhythms new that leaving was the right decision!
Day 6 (2nd Saturday): On an average day, a living legend takes centre stage.
It would have been easy to do something different as the programme was largely uninspiring. Marcia Ball sat at her piano and played her particular brand of R&B with elegance, she’s a class act and a repeat performer one never tires of watching.
The tribute to the music of Fats Domino featuring the exciting talents of pianist Davell Crawford provided some unexpected treats, not least in the appearance of Box Fontenot (drums) and Roger Lewis (sax), both members of Fats’ backing and recording band. Blueberry Hill was right in front of the Acura, and the performance was a real thrill.
Louisiana born and raised singer/songwriter Marc Broussard calls his mixture of Southern rock, soul, funk, blues, R&B and pop ‘Bayou Soul’. After his outstanding Gentilly set Rhythms simply calls it red hot.
Finally, it was time….MERCY, MERCY, MERCY! A lifetime of waiting to see him came to an end when the greatest rock’n’roller of them all, Jerry Lee Lewis took the stage. Now 80, The Killer, frail and clearly ailing, only managed to occupy the stage for 30 minutes of his allotted hour, but did that matter? Not a jot to the delighted capacity crowd that had come to pay homage. With his indefatigable sidekick Kenny Lovelace beside him, Mr. Lewis evoked memories of a bygone era as he cherry picked the highlights from his storied career. “God bless you, I love you and I need you” exhorted The Killer; right back atcha Jerry Lee. Brings a tear to the eye!
When it comes to the most dynamic performance of the whole festival, Vintage Trouble take the gold. In a show that threw Stax, Motown, James Brown, Sammy Davis Jr., and serrated rock into a molten cauldron, the quartet brought the Gentilly house down. A particular highlight was sweat soaked lead vocalist Ty Taylor, his trousers in tatters, scaling the fences to stand shoulder high in the frenzied crowd. It was, by any measure, an exhilarating show (Check out the 18 minute YouTube clip)..
To see or not to see – headline acts for the day were Elton John and Ed Sheeran. The choice was made easy by Sheeran being at the Gentilly and close to the exit gates. Playing solo with an arsenal of effects to pad out his sound, he was adequate. Ask any one of the throng of teenage girls in the crowd and they would tell you Ed was great – there’s something for everyone at JazzFest.
Day 7 (2nd Sunday): When the seniors come out to play and the curtain comes down.
Early action came from fine blues guitarists Guitar Slim Jr. and the typically resplendent Walter “Wolfman” Washington & the Roadmasters, whilst Anders Osborne stretched out on the Acura before the day’s red letter event.
The reunion of Art Neville, Leo Nocentelli, George Porter Jr., and Joseph “Zigaboo” Modeliste, aka THE METERS, was one of the festival’s most anticipated events, and it didn’t disappoint. The progenitors of funk were outrageously good and for added measure introduced Cyril Neville to take lead vocals on several songs. They would be an absolute sensation at any one of Australia’s outdoor festivals – anybody want to take a punt?
Etched in the memory is the Blind Boys Of Alabama entering and departing the Gospel Tent in a conga line for their performance, and what a scintillating show it was. Despite their advancing years, original member Jimmy Carter, Ben Moore, Eric McKinnie, Paul Beasley and Joey Williams still have the power to send a shiver down the spine; the Blind Boys are as good an example as any of the beauty that faith can extract from a person.
In 2013, Brushy One-String from Jamaica stood shoulder high as the worst act Rhythms has ever witnessed at JazzFest (check him out on YouTube singing ‘Chicken In The Corn’ for compelling evidence!), however Ironing Board Sam boldly took up the gauntlet. Exactly what an elderly senior citizen incapable of holding a tune, who rests his keyboard on an ironing board (hence the name), and who would struggle to draw a crowd on a French Quarter corner is doing in the Blues Tent at JazzFest is anybody’s guess.
Local guitar hero Tab Benoit was dressed as though he’d raided the local Desigual store, and once again wowed the crowd with his electric blues chops. It has to be said that Tab didn’t have it all his own way as his mother provided an interesting distraction (to say the least) as she accompanied him with two tambourines and a dance routine that was only missing a pole!
The highlights kept coming on the big stage as Steve Winwood dug deep into the archives in a set with a high ‘wow’ factor. He still has soulfulness in spades, remains a titan of the Hammond B3 organ and relegated Chicago’s Friday night rendition of ‘I’m A Man’ to irrelevance. An outstanding performance.
Where to go for the festival curtain call was easily decided. A heaving, seething crowd was at Congo Square to watch Maze, Kasey Musgraves’ brand of country fails to inspire, Trombone Shorty is now entrenched as the Acura’s closing act but didn’t really appeal (call it complacency if you will), and Dr John was playing his tribute to the Spirit Of Satchmo – no thanks, the album was more than enough. And so it was over to the Blues Tent to watch the mighty Buddy Guy, a genuine blues warrior, and what an inspired choice. Belying a man of his aging years, Guy had the audience in the palm of one hand and a detonator in the other as he blew the place apart with an incendiary performance of electric Chicago blues. A truly fitting finale.
The ten days of JazzFest goes beyond the festival, and gives the opportunity to see first class acts at the myriad clubs in and around the French Quarter. It’s a smorgasbord that can leave one totally exhausted. Rhythms attended four such gigs:
John Cleary & The Absolute Monster Gentlemen at the House Of Blues (Friday, April 24). Two hours of immaculately played funk and R&B. The Gentlemen really are the business and there’s no doubt that Cleary’s finest moments have occurred when accompanied by them. It was a precursor to his performance on the Gentilly stage the following day, but the intimate confines of the Parish Room is the natural habitat of this wonderful musician and it was a superb way to kick off the fortnight.
Dragon Smoke at One-Eyed Jack’s (Tuesday, April 28). For the past 14 years on the Tuesday between weekends, Ivan Neville, Eric Lindell, Robert Mercurio and Stanton Moore have joined forces in a once a year JazzFest show, however this year proved to be a disaster. Not content with having a DJ ‘warm up’ the venue by incessantly pounding punters’ eardrums with a deafening thud, the band took the stage 2 ½ hours late, outrageous even by New Orleans standards. The mood was lost, and after 20 minutes of admittedly fine music it all got to be too much. One-Eyed Jack’s shoddiness would come back to bite!
Alejandro Escovedo & the Sensitive Boys at Chickie Wah Wah’s (Thursday, April 30). In a stunning 75 minutes, Escovedo and his Austin based band laid waste anything in their path with an extraordinary set of punk-infused rock’n’roll. Rough, tough, in your face and thoroughly electrifying, he delivered everything, and more, that his recent albums showcased. An absolute ‘must see’ if he ever plays a venue near you.
Black Joe Lewis & the Honeybears at One-Eyed Jack’s (Saturday, May 2). Arriving at 9:30pm, the support act hadn’t yet taken the stage and so it was down the road for a bowl of gumbo. Returning 1 ½ hours later we entered the venue just in time to hear Joe thank the audience and launch into his last song! Fortunately, he returned for three encores of high powered rock’n’soul, the Honeybears pumping up the volume and the crowd; what a pity, the house was rockin’ and they were great. The irony wasn’t lost that they started pretty much on time, although the reason Joe needs to preface his name with ‘Black’ was!
It really is a marathon, but the thing is, when the finish line is reached and you’re sitting in the departure lounge at the airport, there’s a feeling that you just wanna start all over again. JazzFest 2015 had its low points, particularly the artist roster, but the unfettered enjoyment of two weeks of music, food and mayhem more than balances the scales, and there’s nearly half a million people to back that up. Will I be back? Count on it!
