Nawlins, Part II

On the second day of our trip, we took a drive through the Ninth Ward and parts of St. Bernard's Parish. The Ninth Ward is snug up against the levee that burst in the floods that followed Katrina, and the devastation is evident everywhere. Houses were shoved on top of other houses. Cars flipped over. Trees were uprooted. Power lines lay strewn on the ground. The experience made me both uncomfortable (after all, I was there not to help but to watch) and angry. I am stunned that our government (and I am starting locally and working my way up to POTUS) allows this situation to stand. Although I am sure that there are people who work very hard to fix the situation - my hat is off to them - I saw little evidence that the government provides any assistance at all. Instead, the place is a monument to indifference and neglect.

When the Fest resumed I was not in a good mood. But the people and the music pulled me out of my funk (or perhaps put me in the funk, so to speak) soon enough. The Mandeville High School Jazz Ensemble started things off in the Jazz Tent. When I was in high school, I was pretty impressed by our jazz ensemble. Compared to these kids, we were losers with kazoos. Germaine Bazzle, an accomplished jazz vocalist, followed. We ran into more friends and followed them to the Acura stage, where Deacon John played the blues and Buckwheat Zydeco played, well, zydeco.

I am not a fan of the Acura stage. Unlike the Jazz Tent or the Fais Do-Do, it is a large space packed with people too close together to dance. It is the stage where the "big names" perform because it is the only place large enough to accompate the fans. Bruce Springsteen and Elvis Costello played there the weekend before. It takes up nearly a quarter of the total area of Jazz Fest but it is far removed from the experience. Don't get me wrong: I enjoyed Mssrs. John and Zydeco. And I am sure that the big names draw in more money, which is what the town desperately needs. But the experience in that crowd leaves me cold.

Fortunately, I got the cure soon after. The Ohio Players performed on the Congo Square stage and it was fantastic experience. Ed Bradley (of 60 Minutes fame) introduced them as one of the top two funk bands ever, and he bobbed his head while they spent twenty minutes on "Love Rollercoaster" and another twenty minutes on "Fire". The crowd jumped up and down and wiggled and bobbed. The energy level at a funk show is always good and this act was a tonic. I was particularly impressed with the bass player's leopard-print pajamas. I have got to get me a pair of those!

I understand that Ray Nagin won the New Orleans mayoral race. As an outsider, I have no investment in this and I defer to others. A local friend is of the opinion that he is what the town needs: someone who is not a part of the local political machines and who won't get distracted by their demands. On the other hand, I understand that he has shown a lack of interest in negotiating with those machines, which can be a problem in itself. Whatever the case, he's got a herculean task ahead of him.

In Other News

We lost Clifford Antone yesterday. I did not know the man but I did love the music that played in his club. Another piece of Austin is gone.

On the other hand, our friend Edie received her Ph.D this weekend and won UT's Oustanding Dissertation Award to boot! Congratulations!

Nawlins, Part 1

Linda and I drove back to New Orleans on Thursday afternoon/evening/night. It isn't a bad drive ; in fact, I found it to be pretty interesting. I don't get to see trees that aren't juniper trees that often and the further east I went, the less like cedar the trees became. It grew too dark when we drove through the Atchafalaya (sp?) swamp for me to see that natural wonder, although I could appreciate the engineering marvel that is the raised causeway that allowed us to pass harmlessly over it.

The last hour of the trip was the worst. Crews were working on sections of I-10 as we hit the outskirts of New Orleans, squeezing three lanes of traffic into one and causing us to spend nearly forty-five minutes to travel a mere 2 miles. Once we got past the snarl, I took a wrong turn. Linda called the hotel for directions and we crawled through some pretty sketchy neighborhoods, searching for landmarks and street signs. We learned three things: 1) there are still sections of town, even just outside of the downtown area, that are practically deserted; 2) there are street signs that point the wrong way, hang upside down, or are missing entirely; and 3) New Orleans does not believe in left turns. We got to the hotel eventually but I was worn down to a frazzle by the time I got there.

Fortunately, the beds were very comfortable and I got a good eight hours of sleep before my brother-in-law called us out of bed and shepherded us to the Fest. Despite the fact that it was not quite 1100am, crowds gathered outside a bar not far from the entrance to the Fest for their first shot of booze. We picked up a Bloody Mary and allowed ourselves to be led through the ticket touts and into the Fest.

Looking back at the schedule the first day, I realize that I spent most of my time at the Fais Do-Do stage, where local cajun and zydeco bands whooped it up. After the last few difficult months, I soaked up the energy and the joy like a grateful sponge. I have not been the biggest fan of the squeeze-box but I grew to love it during my trip. We saw the Pine Leaf Boys, the Savoy Family Band and the Red Stick Ramblers, and each band was as good as its predecessor. We wrapped up the first day with Angelique Kidjo, an African pop singer, at the Congo Square stage. Ms. Kidjo wore her politics on her sleeve but she had a fantastic voice, her band brought the funk, and they did a kick-ass version of "Voodoo Child".

I should mention that we began the day with my brother-in-law but we did not end it that way. As I have mentioned in previous posts, the man totally immerses himself in the Fest experience. He has places to go and people to see and he prefers to go and see at his own pace and in his own way. So he passed us along to our local friends and faded into the crowd. I believe he communes with the Fest in much the same way as a shaman communes with the spirit world; he understands it on a level that us mere tourists cannot. I salute him!

Our friends took us in hand. I am happy to report that they weathered the storm very well, with minimal damage to their house. Their stories of other victims were harrowing but that is the subject of my next post.

Uncle Patrick Goes Abroad

Not that this blog has been a paragon of consistency lately, but you will see even less of me over the next few days. Your aunt and I are going to New Orleans for the Jazz Festival this weekend. As many of my long-time readers will recall, I began this blog just before I went to the Festival a few years ago. I hope to post some thoughts about this year's Festival, particularly in light of the fact that this is the first post-Katrina Festival. I will not have one of those lap-top thingies with me, and I am not sure if I will have access to a computer while I am there, but I will take notes and blog like the wind upon my return. In the meantime, check out my archives from 2004 for a refresher course in Uncle Patrick/Festival studies.

And I did watch the first part of the two-part House event last night. I cannot speak to the medicine (as always, I refer you to the fine Polite Dissent) but I did enjoy the show. I think everyone involved played their roles perfectly. Kudos go to Omar Epps in particular. His portrayal of Dr. Foreman's plight was spot-on and consistent with the character as developed over the last two seasons (although I think the scene where he "enlists the aid" of Dr. Cameron was a bit much - but this is a writing problem, not an acting probliem). I hope that this is not some sort of swan song for the character, though...