So here's the scoop. Ramz and I were gonna skip New Orleans on this run due to a scheduling conflict. But, due to another cancellation, we ended up having a few nights free and thought what the hell, let's just go down there and see what happens. Those have been some pretty famous last words for people heading down to NOLA, but fortunately not for us. Thanks to our great friend Katie del Guercio and her main man Semmes Walmsley, our time there was not only the most fun we've had in a long time (and we have no shortage of good times at home and abroad), but resulted in a great gig as well. Oh, and for those of you who don't know, people down there party. Like as in...PARTY.
Night #1
So Ramz and roll into town, unpack the car and bring all the gear into Katie's apartment where she so graciously let us stay (@kdelguercio is a keeper, don't eff this one up @semmeswalmsley). The whole unpacking-then-repacking-the car process, while we're used to it, is an absurd pain in the ass. But our pain was assuaged by our new buddy Semmes as he not only helped us haul our crap in and up the stairs, but also presented us with a giant bag of cold beer when we were done (@semmeswalmsley is a keeper, don't eff this one up @kdelguercio). I've heard of southern hospitality, but jeezus...
So we're havin a beer and cooling down and Katie asks "So...do you guys want to go to the oldest bar in America?"
"YES. RIGHT NOW."
Lafitte's Blacksmith Bar is in the French Quarter, which to me, sounded touristy. And believe me I'd know, because...ummm...I've spent maybe a week total in New Orleans over the past 28 years? And most of my memories are a blur at best. So, yeah, I should lead tours. Anyway, turns out there's a whole lot more to the quarter than sugary drinks and boobs.
I love bars. I love being in bars. I love bartenders. I've been known to bartend. I'm kind of a bar snob. And Lafitte's was the jam. I loved it. I mean this place was OLD. Like 1700's kind of old. You could still smell the pirate hookers. Yaaargh.
So we had a few beers and tried to channel the ghost of Captain Ahab. It didn't work (no Ouija Board), so we beat it and went down to D.B.A which as many of you know is one of the best music venues in town. We get there and there's this kinda typical New Orleans jazz band on stage: drums, guitar, trombone, and a huge fat guy walking bass lines on a tuba. Awesome.
But then...and this was rad...the lights go out. And I don't mean as like a "get the crowd to woot-woot" kinda go out. I mean a full 2 block-radius black out. But to the band this meant "Oh look at that...no more power. Who cares. It's time to JAM 'When the Saints Go Marching In.'"
So the trombone player, while wailing away on his horn, starts walking through the crowd in the pitch black night, cold-cocking anyone who dare get in his way with his 'bone-slide. You can see him in the pic above, but believe me, it's only cuz of the flash. I almost got a black eye. Ramz lost a tooth.
So the band stops, we decide we're gonna go some place that has, ya know, electricity...but wait...what's that...sounds like drums and maybe a conga...yep...the drummer from the band the next powerless bar over is still playing his ass off, and he's being joined by some auxiliary percussion guys as well. PS this dude was a machine. All four limbs going' at once, sweating buckets in the air-condiotioner free August-in-New-Orleans night, and he never missed a beat. No one could sit still. I got over-stimulated in a not untypical way, so I ordered two beers, threw em back, and joined the band as the new "bottles-player." As I did, the drummer pointed a stick at me and nodded his approval. I felt like I'd just met Elvis.
Got home at 6am. Shocker. I love this place.
The Next Day...
The crack of noon can asometimes come so quickly, you feel like you haven't slept at all. But, rise and shine, time to go make some money. How? Go busk in a mildly low-foot-traffic are of town. Brilliant. But first, let's go trespass in someone's Mardi Gras float warehouse.
Ya know what I think of when I think of Mardi Gras? You guessed it. Abe Lincoln. Rumor has it the Civil War was really started when honest Abe got pissed the South wouldn't throw any beads his way after he flashed his rack at 'em. That, and slavery.
Night #2
As I mentioned before, we came to the Big Easy gigless and just lookin to hang out and meet some people. But when you have great friends, great things can happen. Thanks to Katie and friends we ended up playing at this Joint called the Rusty Nail in the Warehouse District. An awesome place with awesome bartenders (more on that in a sec) and overall a cool vibe.
Ramz, warming up his insane banjo chops
So we play the show to an overwhelmingly warm reception. We get off stage and drinks are waiting for us. We sell a bunch of records. The email list fills up. So...pack it up, load it up, cheers to a successful night, go home, go to bed, and get ready to head to Baton Rouge tomorrow...
...or go out with your new best friend in the world until sunrise, and in the process, steal a few old Mardi Gras thrones...you know, the kind with wheels...and race them up and down the street. Done.
Right before the downhill race. No clear winner. No clear anything if I remember correctly....
Actual Cyndi Wiseman quote: "Y'all need to pull a Gloria Es-teff-awn and turn the damn beat around."
So that was that. The next day (just a few hours later actually), Ramz and I were up and at em, loading the car and getting outta town (not before inhaling roast beef po-boys that almost killed Ramz. His had fried shrimp on it. A 10 INCH FRIED SHRIMP AND ROAST BEEF PO-BOY. ARE YOU SERIOUS). I had so much damn fun and met so many great people it was hard to leave. My warmest and most sincere thanks again go out to Katie del Guercio, not just for letting us stay at Che d.G, but for being such an enthusiastic supporter. She and Semmes truly made our stay in NOLA remarkable, and we love 'em both a lot.
On to Baton Rouge...
-aust
Ps:
As always...
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What, no flaming Dr. Peppers? No face punching at piano bars?
Beginning to rethink making an appearance at your VA gig.
Redeem thineself promptly.
Posted by: www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=4707051 | 09/10/2009 at 06:30 AM