Tag: jazz

3×3: Jones Street Station on Lead Belly, Yellow Mustard, and the New York Bluegrass Scene

Posted on by Amy Reitnouer

Artist: Jones Street Station
Hometown: Spread across the U.S. — Boston, Brooklyn, Chicago, San Francisco, Minneapolis
Latest Album: Wolf at the Door
Rejected Band Names: Formerly “the Jones Street Boys” named after a random gang in The Warriors

What song do you wish you had written?

“Walls of Time” and “The Weight” 

Who would be in your dream songwriter round?

Bob Dylan, Lead Belly, John Prine, Cole Porter, Willie Dixon, Bill Monroe, Buddy Holly, Joni Mitchell, Guy Clark

If the After-Life exists, what song will be playing when you arrive?

“Sweet Heaven When I Die,” of course

How often do you do laundry?

Lots

What was the last movie that you really loved?

The Big Short

If you could re-live one year of your life, which would it be and why?

23 when we met had just moved to N.Y. and found the bluegrass scene there.

What’s your favorite culinary spice?

Nutmeg

Morning person or night owl?

Night owls

Mustard or mayo?

Yellow mustard on a Chicago hot dog!

Squared Roots: Jonatha Brooke on the Rhythm and Groove of Joe Sample

Posted on by Editor

Music is full of innovators, some worthy of the word, some less so. Jazz pioneer Joe Sample certainly fits the former. Coming out of Houston, Texas, Sample's artistic roots ran deep and wide. And he wasn't afraid to let them reach into everything he did, blending blues, soul, gospel, and other forms into one. Sample started playing piano at the age of 5 and passed away, in 2014, at 75. In between, his main band project was the Crusaders, a jazz group based in Los Angeles, California, with which he crafted a lasting legacy before they (mostly) disbanded in 1987, despite a few reunion projects.

Jonatha Brooke, likewise, is an innovator within the folk-pop world that she has inhabited since her debut as half of the Story in 1991. Her literary lyrics and sophisticated harmonies somehow manage to both anchor and buoy the songs on the eight solo records she has released, including 2016's Midnight. Hallelujah. And then there are her deeply heartfelt musical theatre projects — one of which, Quadroon, was in development with Sample at the time of his death.

It makes sense to me why you'd pick Joe Sample because he's somebody who softens the complexity of jazz with the soulfulness of rootsier genres. From that perspective, I can totally hear his influence echoing through your work. Did I get that right?

Yeah. Yeah. I think that he, himself, would have said, in some ways, he had a real pop ear for melody. He was not trying to be complex or intellectual. He was just trying to write a great freaking melody. He just wanted to write a great song. He was passionate about it making a lot of sense. It's gotta feel like a complete idea: You state your theme and you have to make it musically make sense. It has to tell a story. There has to be an arc. He's a great storyteller, musically.

I get that. But, at least to my ear, jazz can't help but be a little bit complex. It's not just G-C-D — a three chords and the truth kind of thing.

No. It's so amazing how he voices his chords. They are richer than anything you've ever heard before. But it's deceptive with him. Some of his songs are absolutely simple, just three or four chords, but they're so rich in their embellishments and their harmonics, it gives you that extra bolt. Songs like “One Day I'll Fly Away,” “Street Life,” “When Your Life Was Low” … those are just beautiful, beautiful, classic, singable pop songs.

Again, I'm an absolute dummy about jazz, but I read up to learn that he and the Crusaders played hard bop, which is the bluesier cousin to bebop. School me on that.

[Laughs] Well, I'm gonna sound like an idiot …

Better you than me! [Laughs]

When Joe would tell stories about it … Full disclosure: My husband managed Joe for 35 years, so I got to get an earful, which was an amazing history of jazz and music. But he would always say that all the hard cats were in New York and the Crusaders were like, “Fuck this shit. Where's the melody? We're going to L.A.” [Laughs] And they did what they did, which was more melodic and less lanky, less intellectual and trying to impress people. They had soul. They wanted to keep that element in their approach to jazz.

There was a quote of his included in his New York Times obituary. It's perfect: “The jazz people hate the blues, the blues people hate rock, and the rock people hate jazz. But how can anyone hate music? We tend to not hate any form of music, so we blend it all together. And consequently, we’re always finding ourselves in big trouble with everybody.”

[Laughs] That's awesome! He used to tell this story on stage about this one Crusaders song, “Way Back Home.” Really simple song. Gorgeous, though. Simple, but make-you-cry beautiful. At one point, I guess it was on some kind of tape that the Symbionese Liberation Army was using for their brain-washing. So there were these pictures of Patty Hearst and this song in the background, so the FBI came after the Crusaders because they wanted to know what connection they had to Patty Hearst and the Symbionese Liberation Army. [Laughs] Then they would play the song and it's almost like a hymn, really. The irony was just crazy.

[Laughs] That's hilarious. So they would get in trouble even when they had nothing to do with anything!

Exactly! [Laughs] They just got in trouble.

Too funny. So he started out on acoustic piano, but later gravitated toward electric keyboards. That must've opened up a whole, huge world of creativity for him.

I think so. And the way he played those instruments is absolutely iconic — the way he played the Rhodes and the Wurli. He has one of the most sampled catalogs in the world. The irony is that his name is Sample. I don't know anyone whose riffs and grooves have been more sampled than Joe's. It's those groovy Crusaders Wurli and Rhodes parts that are central to that vibe he would create, that rhythm-and-groove vibe that people are still craving.

Then, as session guy, he played with Joni Mitchell, Marvin Gaye, Miles Davis, Tina Turner, B. B. King, Minnie Riperton, Eric Clapton, and …

Chaka Khan!

Chaka-Chaka-Chaka-Chaka Khan. Yeah. Then he was working with his Creole Joe Band playing zydeco at the end. What sort of skill does it take to be that versatile?

Oh my God. Ridiculous, super-human skills. You have to have that good of an ear that you're always absorbing and still making it your own and turning it into a signature sound. He had all of that. He had the technical skills. He could just blow. But, also, he was always really working on the composition. That was his first-and-foremost love: “How can I make this a beautiful composition? Where should it go? What story am I telling?”

And there's not a single artist that I saw listed that isn't overflowing with soul, themselves, no matter what genre they're in. So, if they're calling on him, there has to be a kindred spirit there.

Yeah. And he would bring so much to the table. I'm surprised … well, I'm not surprised at all … but, often, I would imagine, he should've been a co-writer on many of those sessions because he was bringing it — bringing the groove, bringing the riff that created the song. But those were the days when session cats were just session cats.

Speaking of co-writers … perfect segue … Quadroon. Talk to me about that.

[Laughs] That's a really cool project. It's just devastating that he's not here to finish it. It's a beautiful, large, passionate story. It was his idea to write about this nun who lived in New Orleans in the 1830s. Her name was Henriette Delille and, in real life, she's in line for canonization at the Vatican. She was Creole, so she could pass for white. And, at that time, if you were in that category, you could become a quadroon — you could marry a wealthy, white merchant. Her mother was married to a French merchant. She was his second wife. She was the kept mistress wife of this very wealthy merchant. In some ways, in that time, it was a better option than trying to make it on your own.

Henriette's mom wanted her to go into this line of life called plaçage, but Henriette wanted to be a nun. She wanted to serve God. That was all she wanted, ever, from the time she was small. So, she bucked the system and ended up befriending this French priest. This is all true. And this French priest helped her with her ministry, got her recognized as a nun by the Vatican before she died. She ended up starting an orphanage. She had her own ministries. And she had these schools for poor Black kids and Joe ended up going to the schools that her sisters and followers still run in the Houston area — New Orleans and Houston.

Joe grew up hearing stories about Henriette Delille his whole life and, after he moved back to Houston a few years ago, he decided to research the story and talk to the nuns who were still in New Orleans. They gave him their blessing to write something about this amazing woman. So that's what we've been working on. It's called Quadroon. I think we wrote 20 songs before he passed away and we were able to do a small reading in Houston at the Ensemble Theatre before he died.

That's great. So you're gonna keep pushing forward?

I'm gonna keep pushing. I'm pushing on.

Since you did get to spend a good bit of time with him, what's either the lesson that's stayed with you or the impression of him that lingers for you. Linger … you see what I just did there?

HA! I see what you did there! [Laughs] I think it's that he never tired of creating music. He was really prolific. He always had a new idea. And he wasn't afraid of sucking. [Laughs] He didn't edit himself before it was time. He just let ideas flow. I'm left with memo recorders of hundreds of snippets of ideas that I can still work with. But he just kept writing stuff. That's my biggest inspiration. He was tireless. And he never repeated himself, too. His last record is called Children of the Sun with the NDR Bigband orchestra. It's a masterpiece. It should be an Alvin Ailey ballet. And then the Creole Joe band. And the musical. He was just incredible and I take such inspiration from him because he was 75 and still pumping out ideas!

Photos courtesy of the artists.

3×3: Ariel Bui on Southern Manners, Fiona Apple, and Analog-Loving Freaks

Posted on by Amy Reitnouer

Artist: Ariel Bui
Hometown: Nashville, TN (now)
Latest Album: Ariel Bui
Personal Nicknames: Ms. Ariel. In the South, it's considered polite to put "Ms." in front of ladies' first names, especially when you're also a piano teacher.​

What song do you wish you had written?
"I Know" by Fiona Apple

If money were no object, where would you live and what would you do? 
If money were no object, I'd build and live in an off-grid Earthship somewhere rural, but not too far from civilization and travel a lot from there. I love Taos, New Mexico, and the Mediterranean, and would love to travel the world and see where else I'd like to land. I want to learn more about my Vietnamese roots and would love to learn to play Vietnamese traditional folk instruments and songs. Also, if money were no object, I'd go all out with my art and compose an opera or a symphony, become an opera singer, learn to conduct, paint, weave baskets, knit, grow my own food, bird watch, volunteer all over the world with activist organizations, and do whatever I want.

If the After-Life exists, what song will be playing when you arrive?
"Videotape" by Radiohead

How often do you do laundry?
Not often enough. Probably every two to three weeks. Luckily, I have way too many hand-me-down clothes.

What was the last movie that you really loved?
Fight Club

If you could re-live one year of your life, which would it be and why? 
I would re-live 2015 — the year I recorded this album to analog tape with producer/engineer Andrija Tokic at the Bomb Shelter in East Nashville; the year I flew up to Brooklyn to be a part of the analog mastering process with Paul Gold at Salt Mastering; the year I collaborated with musicians Jon Estes, Dave Racine, Jem Cohen, Emma Berkey, and Lizzie Wright in the making of music. I truly enjoy being deep in the throes of the musically creative process, in a collaborative effort that is true to my artistic vision. Andrija is really fun to work with. He is a wonderful human and is very respectful of my integrity and artistic vision. He really brought forth his own genius to accentuate my songwriting, guitar playing, and singing, while introducing me to the otherworldly experience of working with amazing session musicians. I met so many other great people who float in and out of the Bomb Shelter, too, and I feel like I got inducted into some family of insanely talented, analog-loving freaks.

What's your favorite culinary spice?
Cinnamon

Morning person or night owl?
Night owl

Coffee or tea?
Tea

Photo credit: Jessica Ferguson

Squared Roots: Ryley Walker on the Off-Kilter Blues of Ali Farka Touré

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Dubbed “the African John Lee Hooker,” Ali Farka Touré rose out of obscurity, in terms of Western recognition, with a little help from Ry Cooder, when the two joined forces for Talking Timbuktu in 1994. Many more collaborations and accolades followed in the wake of that project, but Touré's success back home in Mali was marked by different measures. Singing in a number of languages — primarily Songhay, Fulfulde, Tamasheq or Bambara — he brought communities together and made voices heard. His legacy, musically and personally, lives on in the many African artists who have followed in his footsteps.

American artists, too, tread his past, including singer/songwriter/guitarist Ryley Walker. On his albums, like 2016's Golden Sings That Have Been Sung, Walker incorporates the cyclical, off-kilter rhythms he learned from listening to Touré. Casual listeners to his work might not single out his main reference point, but serious students of the form must surely admire his ability to bridge the gap between here and there, now and then.

I always like to start with broad strokes, so … why Ali Farka Touré, for you? Is he someone whose work you've studied pretty closely?

I first heard his music late in high school. I was kind of a sponge for world music, at the time. African and Brazilian. I was at a really good age to find that kind of music. I've always been kind of fascinated by off-kilter blues that's so present in that music. It's unlike anything else — really innovative. It relies on tradition. West African music is really forward-thinking, really progressive. It's the kind of music that anyone can enjoy, yet it's really complicated and insanely groovy. It's incredibly hypnotic. The number of languages he sings in is really incredible — like four or five different languages.

Like a lot of folks, my introduction to him was the Talking Timbuktu project he did with Ry Cooder. With a project like that, why is it so important to tie the threads together the way they did?

That record's really good. It was a huge record, too. I think it sold over a million copies and got all sorts of Grammys. It's a really incredible collaboration. I think Ry Cooder paid a lot of respect. He was really into it.

There are also the Red and Green records, those two records that were both self-titled, released in '84 and '88. Both of those records were inspired. They have to be some of my favorite records that he's ever done. There's a little Moody Blues saxophone thing on there. It just seems like you could go up to him and shake his hand and be like, “What's up, man?” He just seems so approachable. That's just kind of the scene — somewhere in Mali, just a bunch of guys hanging loose, just a normal day in Mali. And, yet, there are probably four languages on there. It's the rawest, purest form. They didn't try to slick the music up. A lot of his sounds are pretty slick, toward the end of his life. But this is just him, in his prime, making records with no Western audience, at the time.

I haven't seen Feel Like Going Home, the Scorsese documentary that he's featured in which traces the lineage of the blues. But, if American roots music goes back to the blues and the blues go back to African music, what do you hear as the similarities and differences between those forms?

I guess, yeah, it can all be traced back. It's a truly unique form of music. It's really original, the traditions that Ali Farka Touré's playing on. It definitely has some groove in there. But, before that, it was real folk music. It was just played by the baker down the street or the local blacksmith. It was just people. It wasn't a record label thing. It wasn't a monetary thing. It was just for them and their friends. It was real tradition. There's no pretension to it at all. It's just real music by real people.

You could go to a village — I mean, I've never been, but … it's not like you would go to a bar in Chicago and say, “Oh, these are musicians.” Everybody in these villages plays music. It's part of their DNA.

Right. It's similar to, still today, if you do down into the Delta, the old blues men are sitting on their porches and nobody's ever heard of them.

Yeah, absolutely. I agree. And Ali Farka Touré, for me, he's up there with [Jimi] Hendrix or anybody else. And his son is really good, too — Vieux Farka Touré. I don't know if you've heard of him.

I have. Yeah. And I was going to ask … who do you feel is carrying on his work? Obviously Vieux is among them and opening his arms far and wide to interesting collaborations.

He's really bad ass. He played a great concert in Chicago about five years ago in the park. He was absolutely ripping. His band was really smoking hot. He's had some questionable collaborations with American musicians. Because I'm such a huge fan of Ali Farka's, when Vieux's first solo record came out, I was like, “Man, I don't know …” But I think that record was as good as anything Ali Farka Touré's ever done.

I'm just fascinated by the whole circuit. They're born in really small villages, where there's no media or anything. And they could rise above it because they're such innovators that it caught on. That's really magical.

And how much of all that creeps into your music?

I think it really creeps into my music. There's always an off-kilter groove with the drums. It's a very cyclical music, instead of a four-four in American rock music. That cyclical, off-kilter thing where the grooves go into each other … I guess you could find a lot of that in Kraut rock, too. They took a lot from Ali Farka Touré, in terms of groove. Or if you listen to Fela Kuti or any of the big African rock stars. They have that cyclical sound where the rhythm and the temperament and the measurement so seamlessly go into each other without a big fill or stop. It feels really natural. I think I definitely try to incorporate that into my music. I rip off Ali Farka Touré religiously. [Laughs]

[Laughs] You're paying homage. You're doing it right.

Absolutely. I respect the hell out of his legacy. I appreciate the music every time I hear it.

How important is it for Westerners to pick up those torches and help carry them forward?

I don't know if it's important to them. It all depends on the listener and what they want from the music. There's music you can rock to. There's music you can worship, like me, and try to play like it, pay homage to it. I don't know. That's a really good question.

You're shining a light on this hero of yours through your work and through talking about him. So that helps spread his message and, hopefully, people will go back and listen to him. I'd say it's a community service.

I'd love to think of it as a community service. It's some of the most important music up there … like [John] Coltrane or Charles Mingus or Art Tatum or any great innovator. It's definitely important to keep the records on, keep the music going. I don't think I'm going to be in a West African band, by any means. [Laughs]

But I absolutely adore his music, ever since I first heard him. It's so captivating. Really beautiful and pure. The guy was so smart. In America, if you speak Spanish, it's like, “Whoa.” Or if you know French or German, it's more of a hobby. But there, you need to know all these languages for work because you have so many different cultures right around you, like the tribe in the next village with a different language and you need to make money and trade with them. So they learn so many languages and incorporate so many different cultures. There's so much different stuff going on there within 500 square miles and they incorporate that into the music. It's a beautiful thing.

Here is a fun and fascinating Wikipedia fact, which we'll take as the truth: “In 2004, Touré became mayor of Niafunké and spent his own money grading the roads, putting in sewer canals, and fueling a generator that provided the impoverished town with electricity.”

Damn!

That's a hero, right there.

That's pretty amazing. That's Robin Hood vibes. He seems like a good dude. Any footage you see of him playing, he's always surrounded by friends and family. That's really cool to me. And they'd sing along to the tunes, to this music they came up with. I guess he was sort of solely responsible for taking West African music around the world and making it popular. I don't know if it's super popular, but record collectors and fans of old music, he's solely responsible for that, him and a few others.

Love the blues? Check out our interview with Jimmy "Duck" Holmes.

Photo of Ryley Walker by Eric Sheehan. Photo of Ali Farka Touré courtesy of public domain.

Take This Hammer, Blow Your Kazoo: Skiffle in the 1950s and Beyond

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In July, 1954 — the same month that Elvis Presley unleashed his first two world-changing singles — a Scottish-born singer and trad-jazz musician named Lonnie Donegan released a cover of “Rock Island Line” with backing on washboard and bass. Inspired by the African-American singer Lead Belly, Donegan explains the rules of the rails in his spoken-word intro and includes the shouts and cries of the engineers. Though he strums his guitar in a persistent rhythm to evoke the chug and drive of a freight train, the song picks up speed along the way, finally achieving a breakneck momentum as Donegan’s high-pitched vocals grow wilder. It’s a remarkable performance, studious to the point of mimicry, yet reckless like a runaway train.

It took two years, but the single finally caught on and started climbing the British pop charts in 1956. Donegan followed it up with a full-length album, An Englishman Sings American Folk Songs, which became a massive hit on both sides of the Atlantic. In its wake, a series of like-minded folk acts starting popping up all over Britain: young men and women well-schooled in American folk music yet too irreverent and too wiley to be classified as traditional. Emphasizing ingenuity and spontaneity, they played rhythm guitar almost exclusively, along with whatever instruments happened to be on hand: usually kazoos, banjos, washboards, tea cabinet bass, and assorted homemade noisemakers. This was closer in spirit, if not in sound, to the rock 'n' roll coming out of the American South.

Thus was born skiffle, a short-lived scene with a lasting influence.

The word itself has a long history that reveals the concerns of its mid-century practitioners. Skiffle originated in the 1920s as a word to describe wild, impromptu jazz that mixed blues, ragtime, and folk. When Donegan and a few other musicians began playing sets of folk tunes during their trad-jazz shows, he called them “skiffle breaks,” borrowing the term from the semi-popular ‘30s jazz act the Dan Burley Skiffle Group. Eventually, the break would become the entire show, with Donegan and his small outfit often improvising their covers.

After the success of “Rock Island Line,” skiffle groups came out of the woodwork, with trad-jazz musicians migrating to this more lucrative market and kids picking up guitars for the first time. The Chas McDevitt Skiffle Group enjoyed a hit with a cover of Elizabeth Cotton’s “Freight Train” featuring Nancy Whiskey on vocals. A London outfit called the Vipers Skiffle Group — later known as simply the Vipers — rivaled Donegan as the trend’s guiding light, thanks to a string of smash singles like “Cumberland Gap” and “Don’t You Rock Me, Daddy-O” (which was produced by George Martin, later known as the Fifth Beatle). America even produced its own skiffle star, Johnny Duncan, who was born in Oliver Springs, Tennessee, but found fame in the clubs and charts of England with his 1957 hit “Last Train to San Fernando.”

As Rob Young writes in his indispensible 2010 guide to British folk music, Electric Eden: Unearthing Britain’s Visionary Music, “Skiffle’s accelerated swing rhythms and domestic equipment — kazoos, harmonicas, comb and paper — placed music-making in the hands of the amateur, as well as opening up a conduit for the dust-bowl and rust-belt blues and folk poetry of Woody Guthrie and Lead Belly to be siphoned into British ears.”

Like the trad-jazz scene and like the blues revival of the following decade, skiffle was a result of Britain’s obsession with American traditional music. During the post-war years, even as many musicians strove to define and preserve a specifically English folk tradition in pubs and social clubs, much of the country looked west for musical inspiration, finding it in the music made by poor Americans often in rural settings. Granted, those folk songs could be traced back to European sources, brought over by immigrants generations before and gradually mutated over the years, but by the middle of the 20th century, the music sounded distinctly American.

What distinguishes skiffle from imported jazz or blues is its emphasis on labor and class. Most of the main skiffle hits were about workers’ laments: engineers and linemen, sharecroppers and cotton pickers, migrants and chain gang prisoners. Weirdly, skiffle was viewed as largely apolitical at the time, a harmless fascination with another country’s past. However, the subject matter of these songs reinforces the populism that lies at the heart of all folk music, which likely made it more appealing to everyday Brits, especially teenagers.

As Alan Lomax noted at the time, “At first, it seemed very strange to me to hear these songs, which I had recorded from convicts in the prisons of the South, coming out of the mouths of young men who had suffered, comparatively speaking, so little. But I soon realized that these young people felt themselves to be in a prison — composed of class-and-caste lines, the shrinking British empire, the dull job, the lack of money … things like these. They were shouting at the prison walls, like so many Joshuas at the walls of Jericho.”

Skiffle left a mark on an entire generation of men and women who picked up guitars and created some of the best music of the 1960s. The list of musicians who started out in skiffle is long and impressive: Jimmy Page, David Gilmour, Ritchie Blackmore, Pete Townshend … even Cliff Richard. Van Morrison was not only a huge fan of the genre, but also recorded an album with Lonnie Donegan and Chris Barber in the late 1990s. And one obscure skiffle group from Liverpool eventually changed its name from the Quarrymen to the Beatles.

The craze lasted barely five years, replaced by the screams and shouts of American rock 'n' roll, which offered similar freedoms and pleasure. Skiffle remains a brief chapter in pop history, but its lasting influence belies its short life. Although it remains obscure today — unknown by pop fans and often overlooked by folkies — the genre reinforced the idea that popular music is often best left to the amateur, the unschooled, the self-taught: those artists who innovate intuitively, without anyone telling them what they can’t do.

Dewi Peter's Skiffle Group outside Kayser Bondor, Pentrebach C.1957. Photograph courtesy of Clive Morgan.

Traveler: Your Guide to New Orleans

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I’ve got a soft spot for New Orleans. No matter how many times I visit, I always find more to love. Tourism is the heart of New Orleans’ economy. In 2014, nearly 10 million people visited bringing in nearly $7 billion dollars. Everywhere you go, there is a celebration of New Orleans’ rich history — usually accompanied by lots of drinks and revelry. Needless to say, this town will show you a good time.

Getting There

For many travelers, getting to the destination is half the fun. Others prefer being there. If you are the latter, New Orleans is home to Louisiana’s largest airport. All major airlines fly to it. If you are the former, take the legendary Highway 61 — the Blues Highway. Be sure to stop in Clarksdale, Mississippi, which is home to juke joints and good eats. Also, take a photo at the crossroads where Robert Johnson supposedly sold his soul.

Accommodations


Hotel Saint Pierre. Photo credit: Numinosity (Gary J Wood) via Foter.com / CC BY-SA.

The fantastic Hotel Saint Pierre is not one building, but several historic buildings occupying both sides of an entire block nestled between the Tremé and the French Quarter. The Garden District House is another good choice, if you’re looking for an affordable, uptown hostel in the Garden District, a gorgeous neighborhood that is home to New Orleans’ elite where mansions and former plantations intermingle with upscale restaurants and cemeteries. Best of all, it is near the streetcars for quick access to downtown and the French Quarter.

If money is not an issue, class it up at the Roosevelt Hotel, a centrally located picture of luxury which houses some of New Orleans’ best restaurants and classiest bars. Even if you do not stay here, swing by for a drink and check out the lobby. (More on the Roosevelt further down.)

The business district is another solid choice that is easy on the pocketbook and within walking distance to the French Quarter. There are some great stays, like the Whitney Hotel. It is a former bank, has good rates, and offers a unique New Orleans experience.

Food


Boiled crawfish. Photo credit: kittenfc via Foter.com / CC BY.

In New Orleans, it is not where you eat, but what you eat. You need to get some crawfish. The Original French Market Restaurant is a good place to start. I recommend the crawfish boat — it comes with potatoes, sausage, and corn boiled with two pounds of crawfish to create a flavor assault on your mouth.

You also have to get a po’ boy. NOLA Poboys is a good spot in the French Quarter, but there are hundreds of others to choose from.

You need to get a beignet and it might as well be at Café De Monde, which is a New Orleans landmark dating back to 1862. Today, Café Du Monde is open 24 hours a day, seven days a week — only closed on Christmas Day and during the occasional hurricane. All the world’s beignets are judged against theirs, as they set the benchmark.

You should also eat a muffuletta. Central Deli and Grocery originally concocted this beast of a sandwich that consists of olive salad, mortadella, salami, mozzarella, ham, and provolone on a Sicilian bun. It is intense. Central Deli and Grocery is still operating, so swing by their Decatur Street location. You may want to split the sandwich.

When you are ready for a healthy meal, head down by the Warehouse Arts District to eat at Seed. It is a vegan restaurant, but your tastebuds won’t know it. Seed offers a variety of fresh juices and smoothies to help with hangovers, and their menu is a healthy version of classic New Orleans dishes for a good change of pace after all the po’ boys and muffulettas.

Drink


Sazeracs. Photo credit: susanna bolle via Foter.com / CC BY.

There is no shortage of bars in New Orleans. You must walk down Bourbon Street — get a to-go beer and have a nice stroll. Stop at Marie Laveau’s Voodoo Shop for souvenirs, and try to avoid tripping over the passed out frat boys. There’s a lot of fun amidst the chaos.

The sazerac was the first cocktail invented by Antoine Amédée Peychaud in 1838. When he died in 1893, the Grunewald Hotel acquired the rights. In 2009, the former Grunewald reopened as the Roosevelt. Swing by their Sazerac Room and enjoy this New Orleans cocktail.

If you love dive bars, check out Molly’s in the French Quarter. They have a great jukebox and cheap drinks. You can get a beer and a shot for $5. For outdoor seating, go to Pat O’Brien’s next to the Preservation Hall. Perfect for warm Southern nights, the cobblestoned patio tables are nestled amongst fountains and flora, while pianos duel inside.

Coffee


Café’ au lait and beignets. Photo credit: kaige via Foter.com / CC BY-ND.

You are already going to Café Du Monde for beignets, so you might as well get some of their famous chicory coffee. Though chicory was a coffee substitute during the Civil War, today, the coffee and chicory are mixed to create a wonderful earthy flavor with a hint of chocolate.

Mister Gregory’s on Rampart Street is another great coffee shop. It is a French casual café in a great location — far enough off the beaten path that you can sit for awhile, but not so far that your feet will get sore walking to it.

Live Music


Preservation Hall. Photo credit: Phil Roeder via Foter.com / CC BY.

The French Quarter is still home to some great live music. Fritzel’s European Jazz Bar on Bourbon Street is fantastic. On Sunday afternoons, they have stride piano and, every night, they have top-notch, live jazz. If you need convincing, check out Fritzel’s New Orleans Jazz Band on Spotify. There is never a cover, although there is a drink minimum.

Preservation Hall’s history, alone, is worth the admission, and the music makes it one of the best deals in town. Get there about 30 minutes early, as the room is small and sells out.

Frenchman Street is also home to a bustling live music scene. The Maison has some great jazz and funk in a large room with room to dance. I highly recommend visiting d.b.a on Monday nights. When he’s not on tour, Luke Winslow-King plays every Monday at 7 p.m. His last album, Everlasting Arms, was one of my favorites from 2014. Right down the street is the Spotted Cat Music Club. It is home to some of New Orleans’ best traditional jazz, though most of the bands are younger and many have an Americana Twist.

Local Flavor


Jackson Square. Photo credit: christian.senger via Foter.com / CC BY.

There is more to New Orleans than just drinking and music. Take a riverboat cruise. You’re on the Mississippi River, after all. Enjoy it! There are three riverboat cruise companies. I recommend the Creole Queen. Their paddleboat is the nicest, their crew is the best, and the bar has live music. The cruise stops at Chalmette Battlefield, where the Battle of New Orleans was fought. Most historians consider it the last great fight in the War of 1812.

I also recommend checking out a burlesque show by Fleur De Tease at One Eyed Jacks. One Eyed Jacks makes some of the best cocktails in town. The show is wonderful. Be warned, it sells out fast. Get your tickets early.

Designated by Congress as America’s official museum about World War II, the National World War II Museum is ranked by TripAdvisor as the #1 attraction in New Orleans. USA Today also named it the best place in the U.S. to learn military history, so it is a must-see for history buffs.

If you prefer serial killers and vampires to military history, take a haunted tour to learn about New Orleans’ seedy past while sipping hurricanes. It is informative, fun, and a great way to explore the town.

I also recommend visiting Congo Square at Armstrong Park. It is the birthplace of jazz. In the 18th century, enslaved African vendors gathered there. On Sundays, they sang, danced, and traded. The cultural expressions developed into the Mardis Gras Indian traditions, the Second Line, and, finally, New Orleans jazz. It is one of the most important squares in the United States. Armstrong Park is also home to an amazing sculpture garden.

On the way to Armstrong Park, check out the Washing Cycle. Located kitty-corner from the park, it formerly housed J & M Studios. Early rock pioneers like Little Richard, Fats Domino, and Dave Bartholomew first recorded here. J & M Studios was integral to the development of early rock ‘n’ roll, though it is now a laundromat.

Lede image: Bourbon Street. Photo credit: Eric K Gross via Foter.com / CC BY.

Squared Roots: Jill Andrews on the Heart and Mind of Joni Mitchell

Posted on by Editor

Pretty much every singer/songwriter today counts Joni Mitchell among their heroes. If they don't, they should. From her 1968 debut to her 2007 finale, Mitchell's talent has been both steadfast and elusive — remaining constant even as it evolved. Her early records (Blue, Clouds, Ladies of the Canyon, Court & Spark) showcased a craft so fully formed and so emotionally mature that they continue to stand as high marks in her career … if not in music as a whole.

By the mid-'70s, Mitchell needed more than acoustic music could offer and she branched out into jazz alongside Charles Mingus, Jaco Pastorius, Wayne Shorter, and other legends of the form. Having issued 10 studio albums in 11 years, Mitchell's output slowed in the '80s and '90s, with only six releases spread across those 20 years, including the Grammy-winning Turbulent Indigo in 1994. At the turn of the century, Mitchell won another Grammy for Both Sides Now, the concept album that follows the arc of a relationship as told through jazz songs performed by Mitchell with an orchestra. Two years later, Travelogue paired her own songs with an orchestra and, in 2007, Shine shone as her last-released collection of original material prior to her retirement from music.

As one of the singer/songwriters who count Mitchell as a hero, Jill Andrews found inspiration in her early acoustic albums. That influence wasn't exactly obvious on Andrews' first band project, the everybodyfields, or even on her solo sets, including her latest release, The War Inside. But it's in there, in her DNA, just as it is in all the other singer/songwriters who have come along over the past 45 years.

So that I know who I'm dealing with here … what's your favorite Joni record? This is going to determine a lot.

Blue. I feel like that's the most obvious one, but … There are several that I hadn't really listened to, so I've been listening to them. And, still, that's my favorite … by far, I would say. But I think Ladies of the Canyon is really good, too. What about you?

Early on, in my early 20s, I was all about Clouds . I mean, Blue is fantastic. No question. But, like you said, it's the obvious one. Then Court & Spark got me, particularly after … I'm guessing you've seen the wonderful documentary about her on Netflix.

No, I haven't, actually.

Oh my goodness. It's called Woman of Heart and Mind. I watched that a couple of years ago and listened to Court & Spark for about two weeks straight … nothing else.

Oh, nice! Is it a documentary about her whole life of just that era?

Her whole life. What's fascinating to me about her is that the music industry never knew quite what to do with her … and that's true of most artists who color outside the lines. It's amazing that their art ever gets documented and distributed.

Yeah. And she did so well, record sale-wise, for a really long time. The ones, to me, that weren't the most obvious still sold so well. And it's interesting to think that, if she were trying to do what she did in the '70s now, I wonder how different of an experience that would be for her.

Starting in 1968, when she was 24, she made nine albums in 11 years.

That is insane!

Clouds at 25 and Blue at 27. Today, artists that age are sitting naked on wrecking balls to get attention.

When you think about that, that is so true! [Laughs] Have you seen the live BBC videos she did in 1970?

Yeah, some of them.

She's wearing this pink dress and her skin is the most flawless skin I've ever seen in my life. I can't even believe how flawless it is. You know there was nothing making her look better, except maybe a little makeup … but she barely had any makeup on. She was just singing and playing guitar. She didn't need a single other thing. It was just her doing that and it was so good. It was songs from Ladies of the Canyon and some songs from Blue. It's just so simple.

It's tempting to wonder where the Joni Mitchell of this or that generation is, but really, the original is perfect and timeless. Do we need another one?

I mean … not really, but at the same time … I'm interested in the simplicity of all of that. It's actually caused me to think a lot because I've been thinking about what my next record is going to be. I'm so over the moon about this new one that came out, but I finished it a while back, so I've been thinking about my next one for a while. I've been working on a couple of things at home and a lot of it is pretty simple … a lot of my vocals stacked up, one on top of another, used as another instrument. I don't know … it's not necessarily as simplistic as just a guitar and vocal, but it's definitely more simple for me.

Well, the setting that she used was simple, but her phrasing, melodies, lyrics … all of that was very complex. That kind of talent can't really be learned, but have you spent time really studying the craft of her songs?

In high school, I definitely listened to a lot of her stuff. That was before I was a musician, really. I didn't play an instrument. I remember, specifically, when I was dreaming about being a musician, that I wanted to be like her. The reason I wanted to be like her was that I wanted to be able to play an instrument really well. I wanted to be able to sing really well. And I wanted to be able to write my own songs. That was the triad for me.

So you might as well aim for the absolute highest! [Laughs]

[Laughs] Yeah. Exactly. I guess I haven't really studied her craft, necessarily. But I have listened to her stuff a lot and just been a big fan. Her lyrics are so interesting. In general, they're all slice-of-life lyrics. You can see her in the story, almost every time — standing on a street corner in “For Free.” You can see her in so many of the songs. I just love that. The imagery is so beautiful.

Not that she ever made pure folk music, but that's just too small of a genre to contain her, so it's no wonder she gravitated toward the complexity of jazz. Are you a fan of that phase, as well?

I've listened to some of that stuff, but I wasn't as drawn to it, to be honest. I've listened to Court & Spark. I've listened to Hissing of Summer Lawns. I wasn't particularly drawn to either of those records, but I do really like Hejira.

Interesting …

Yeah. I don't know what it is. I think the melodies drew me in more, on Hejira. I love “Coyote” so much. That song is amazing.