LISTEN: Luke Winslow-King, “Going to New Orleans”

Artist: Luke Winslow-King
Hometown: Cadillac, Michigan
Song: “Going to New Orleans” (single)
Release Date: April 26, 2019
Label: Bloodshot Records

In Their Words: “‘Going to New Orleans’ is this song I learned street busking in New Orleans. The oldest version that I can find is that of Babe Stovall. Babe was a notorious street performer through the ’60s and ’70s. His original version was entitled ‘G’wine to New Orleans.’ I also mixed in a few lyrics from Danny Barker’s Mardi Gras Indian classic ‘Chocko Mee Feendo Hey’ and wrote a few of my own verses. Roberto Luti (Playing for Change) is on electric guitar, and Chris Davis (King James and the Special Men) are featured prominently on the track.” — Luke Winslow-King


Photo credit: Victor Alonso

BGS 5+5: Carsie Blanton

Artist: Carsie Blanton
Hometown: Luray, Virginia, but currently New Orleans
Latest album: Buck Up
Personal nicknames: My stage name ages 14-16 was Carsie Bean Blue. And “Carsie” is technically a nickname; my legal name is “Carson” (my namesake is Southern Gothic novelist Carson McCullers who was, by the way, a badass).

What other art forms — literature, film, dance, painting, etc — inform your music?

I find poetry and novels very inspiring as a songwriter. My new album has themes of desire and futility, and while I was writing it I had an excerpt from a poem by James Richardson hanging above my writing desk (which I also included in the album liner notes):

And what was King Kong ever going to do
with Fay Wray, or Jessica Lange,
but climb, climb, climb, and get shot down?
No wonder Gulliver’s amiably chatting
with that six-inch woman in his palm.
Desire’s huge, there’s really nowhere to put it
in our small world that it will stay put

What rituals do you have, either in the studio or before a show?

I write most of my songs in my writing studio, The Watermelon, which is a freestanding 8′ x 8′ shed in my backyard–it’s all mine and nobody else has a key! It’s green on the outside and watermelon-pink on the inside, and it’s filled with every object I own that inspires me or makes me feel lucky: terracotta pigs from Chile; a badger skull; milagros and alebrijes from Mexico; prints by my favorite artists; books by my favorite writers (plus a collection of rhyming dictionaries and thesauri); orchids and succulents; prayer candles from my local voodoo shop; and both of my guitars (a 1907 Washburn parlor and a cherry red 1972 Gibson ES-320). There’s also a sea-green writing desk with drawers full of markers, stamps, and newspaper clippings. When I’m ready to write, I light all the candles and water all the plants and make myself a cup of tea.

If you had to write a mission statement for your career, what would it be?

Pleasure and playfulness are serious business. I believe it’s possible–nay, necessary–to thwart fascism and make capitalism obsolete while having maximum possible fun, writing great hooks and taking breaks for sex and cookies.

Since food and music go so well together, what is your dream pairing of a meal and a musician?

Rare steak and old Scotch with Ray Charles.

What was the first moment that you knew you wanted to be a musician?

The one that comes to mind is seeing Gillian Welch and David Rawlings at Merlefest when I was ten or eleven. I was already a huge fan, and I had brought an autograph book and really wanted Gillian’s autograph, so I knocked on the stage door after her set. A bouncer answered, and for some reason, he let me in! I remember seeing all the people hanging around backstage–musicians and crew–and thinking, THIS! This is where I belong.


Photo credit: Jason Albus

Small World: Leyla McCalla Makes a Statement with ‘The Capitalist Blues’

Many seeing Leyla McCalla’s performance at the New Orleans Jazz & Heritage Festival last May had a bit of a surprise midway through the set. It wasn’t just that the musician and singer, generally associated with cello and banjo, strapped on an electric guitar. And it wasn’t just that the guitar was poised precariously over her very pregnant belly (she would give birth to twins three weeks later).

It was the music she and her band launched into that provided the shock, intentionally: A powerful new song, dense in structure, forceful in rhythm, marked by her despairing vocals and distorted guitars.

“You were like, ‘Wow, this is different!’” she says now.

The song, “Aleppo,” captures deep emotions she had while watching in-the-moment accounts of the horror experienced by those caught in the 2016 siege of the Syrian city. It was a dramatic departure from the largely acoustic Haitian/Louisianan/Delta/etc. inspirations of the rest of her set and of the two solo albums she’d released to that point, as well as from the African-American string band renewals she’s done in the Carolina Chocolate Drops.

But it’s also a sonic center, if an extreme one, of her new album, The Capitalist Blues. Working with producer Jimmy Horn, a.k.a. the formidable frontman of New Orleans’ rowdy ’n’ raw R&B stompers King James & the Special Men, she broke into new territories while staying firmly grounded in her musical and personal histories. The whole of her is here: being raised in New Jersey by her activist Haitian-born parents, spending two teen years living in Ghana, staying with her grandmother in Haiti during childhood summers, and now living in New Orleans as a concerned citizen and mother.

BGS: “Aleppo” really is quite different from anything you’ve done. How did that come about?

McCalla: I was watching Facebook Live testimonials of the people in Aleppo during the siege of 2016. People basically saying, “I exist. I’m here. This is what’s happening in my city.” It was really surreal… I had the line come into my head: “Bombs are falling in the name of peace.” That opened the doors to exploring the idea, not just the idea, but exploring how violence is seen as a way to peace in our society, how backwards that is, how messed up. I wanted it to sound angry and frustrated and devastating. I think we got it!

It’s not a surprise that you’d take on social issues. You’ve done it before, of course. And the title of the album and the first song is “The Capitalist Blues,” after all.

A lot of my songs come from a very personal place. And then I start to realize that my personal experience is related to many others’ experiences. I started writing that song several years ago when I was really just starting my [solo] career. It was new to me having an agent and a manager and discussing publishing deals and the business of music. It was a conflicted feeling of making music and being an artist. And I saw how many people can’t even find jobs, and the housing market is out of control and gentrification is everywhere. I sat on the words a long time and one day just came up with “I’ve got the capitalist blues,” and very quickly realized that it would be the title of the record.

You made it at Preservation Hall in the French Quarter in a traditional New Orleans jazz mode.

I’d always imagined it as a brass band, but didn’t know how I’d pull that off. It was such a dreamy experience to record it at Preservation Hall with basically the original Palmetto Bug Stompers band featuring [drummer] Shannon Powell and [banjo player] Carl LeBlanc.

The move into new sounds seems a natural progression.

[On my earlier records] I was inspired by field recordings, before there were amplifiers and electric guitars. But I was listening to Coupé Cloué, one of the forefathers of konpa music, Haitian dance music, what bachata is to the Dominican Republic. The origins of konpa are in Haitian troubadour music, music I was inspired by. A lot of these songs talk about social and political issues, metaphorically in coded language.

I was listening to [Cloué] and Trio Select records, same concept musically but with electric guitars. Magical music. I thought about the late ‘60s and early ‘70s, everything being plugged in, Bob Dylan at Newport. My band has been cracking me up — “We’re like the Band for you!” Yeah, and it’s 2019 and people might still be upset about this! But it’s a natural extension of what I did before. I’ve never been a purist.

“Heavy as Lead” is as personal as it gets.

I wrote that song in one day. All the words came down and, Boom! it was a song. My daughter had elevated lead levels in her blood and I was devastated with that. I don’t like to think of our home as unsafe, but I realized all my friends with young children have that experience. This is a systemic issue.

You have three cover songs on this. The calypso “Money is King,” originally by Neville Marcano, and the Haitian “Lavi Vye Neg,” by Gesner Henry, are familiar territory for you. But “Penha” is Brazilian, with you translating the Portuguese lyrics into Kreyol and English, something a bit different.

That’s a Luiz Gonzaga tune. I’ve been a big fan of Brazilian music since I was a teenager. My dad introduced me to the [1993] album Tropicalia 2, by Caetano Veloso and Gilberto Gil. Then I got into Caetano and saw him perform when I was 15, blew my mind, how he mixed indigenous Brazilian music with rock ’n’ roll. I hear the same chord changes and inflections in Kreyol music, not just in Haitian music but Louisiana and Cape Verde and all over Latin America, Trinidad.

The original title of this song is “Baião da Penha” — Baião is rhythm and Penha is the statue of the Virgin Mary. I loved the sentiment of it, believing in peace. I found the lyrics in Portuguese online and I went on Google Translate to translate the lines. I liked the melody but had no idea what it was really about. Then I thought, “Oh, this would be so cool if I could also sing this in Kreyol!” And that’s what I did.

You’re fluent in Kreyol.

I grew up with a lot of people speaking Kreyol around me, but not necessarily to me. Spent the summer with my maternal grandmother in Haiti in ’95, and after that was fluent, but after that I lost it. My comprehension has gotten much better since I’ve been exploring Haitian music, and spending more time in Haiti. I was 10 with my grandmother there. She was very determined to make me love Haiti and help me develop a Haitian-American identity. I think she thought me and my sister were spoiled brats and needed to come experience what other kids were like. That had a huge influence on my life path.

I can’t really talk about why I’m influenced by all these different kinds of music without addressing the oppression of Haitians and black people in the world and why that exists. I live in this. I deal with racial bias on a daily basis. It’s endlessly fascinating, not something that will be solved. I try to puncture the glass ceiling of preconceived notions of what it means to be Haitian, what it means to be black, what it means to be Kreyol, what it means to live in Louisiana. All that becomes part of my music.

You close the album in Haitian parade mode with the band Lakou Mizik on “Settle Down.” How did that happen?

I got really lucky. They played at JazzFest this past year and in 2017. When I recorded with them it was the spring of 2017. I was listening to NPR and they were talking about people protesting at the inauguration who were arrested. They want us all to settle down and fall into place and be complicit to whatever political motives they have. I was thinking about what it means to protest, what it is to march in the streets, how powerful that experience can be. They were putting anti-protest legislation on the table. They just want us all to settle down. So I knew I wanted the song to be part Kreyol and heard it as a rara tune. They [Lakou Mizik] have those instruments and play that style, that’s how they started as a band. It just magically worked out. Hard not to feel it was meant to be, it was written in the stars.


Photo credit: Sarrah Danzinger

BGS 5+5: Upstate

Artist: Upstate
Hometown: Hudson Valley, New York
Latest Album: Healing
Personal nicknames (or rejected band names): Honeyoye, Loudmouth, June Bug Flew, Upstate Rubdown

Which artist has influenced you the most … and how?

We all listen to a broad range of music, but the biggest point of overlap for us has always been the Wood Brothers. We really struggle to make music that’s both emotionally and intellectually compelling, and I think the Wood Brothers really demonstrate how to achieve that balance. All of their songs feel earnest and groove hard, but they’re also very musically sophisticated. That sort of writing and arranging is a big influence for us. — Harry D’Agostino

What rituals do you have, either in the studio or before a show?

Our whole band huddles and takes a collective breath before every live performance. It’s a nice way to bring ourselves into the present moment before we play, since load-ins and soundcheck and life in general can be a bit disorienting. It gets us centered and connected to one another at least a little so we don’t phone in on our interactions on stage. — HD

If you had to write a mission statement for your career, what would it be?

I think everyone has a desire to do useful and meaningful work in their lives, and I spend a lot of time thinking about all the ways that music can fit that description. I love making music that people can dance to, and writing songs that people can connect with and that can help reflect the world around them. A journalist for Al-Jazeera once asked the Iraqi cellist Karim Wasfi if music was really just an indulgence given the shortage of basic necessities. He replied that “It is needed as much as food, as much as oxygen, as much as water because it refines and cultivates. Because it inspires people.” I think that’s a good enough reason to dedicate your energy and time to something. — HD

Since food and music go so well together, what is your dream pairing of a meal and a musician?

I think the big thing that food and music have in common I the way that different cultural styles and recipes collide and evolve together. I think the richest music and food comes from places where that process has happened the most. I’d probably like to pair a meal like gumbo or paella that mixes lots of flavors with music from New Orleans or Cuba that does the same. — HD

How often do you hide behind a character in a song or use “you” when it’s actually “me”?

Both of our albums have one song written in the second person that takes the form of advice, like the reassuring voice inside your head. In both those cases I really wrote the song as a way to talk to myself, but also with the expectation that the doubts or challenges I was confronting weren’t unique and that others would appreciate it. That so many people have listened to “Old Advice” sort of validates that sentiment. — HD

Editor’s Note: Look for Upstate at the upcoming Winter WonderGrass Festival in Stratton, Vermont, on Dec. 14-16.


Photo credit: Jennifer Elrod

A Minute in New Orleans with Kelcy Mae of Ever More Nest

Welcome to “A Minute In …” — a BGS feature that turns musicians into hometown reporters. In our latest column, Kelcy Mae of Ever More Nest takes us through New Orleans, Louisiana.

Growing up as a curious, imaginative kid in Bible Belt North Louisiana, I knew when I could, I’d seek a land with a little more freeness, more color, and more fun. As soon as I graduated high school, I headed south to New Orleans, which I’ve now called home for half my life. New Orleans’ tricentennial celebration is underway, and with three hundred years of history, every path in the city is a beaten one. But today, I’ll try to take you off the beaten path with a few well known spots as well. – Kelcy Mae

New Orleans City Park

Home to the New Orleans Museum of Art (NOMA), City Park consists of 1,300 acres of land that make it easy to forget you’re in the middle of a city. With 800-year-old, sprawling oaks and land both manicured and wild (an overgrown pre-Katrina golf course), the park offers an outdoor experience for everyone. Attractions like NOMA and the Sculpture and Botanical Gardens, Carousel Gardens Amusement Park, bike and boat rentals, mini-golf and sports fields, playgrounds and picnic areas, and running/walking paths allow for hours of entertainment or escape.

“Big Lake” in City Park is a portion of my jog route, made more fun by the ducks, geese, turtles, and occasional pelicans that grace its waters. Big Lake is also home to the famous chime tree, a towering oak filled with giant, mesmerizing wind chimes.


Lola’s

New Orleans has so much good food, you could write about restaurants for days. I’m skipping the usual fare here with a nod to my favorite date-night locale. Lola’s, tucked along Esplanade Avenue in Mid-City is a quaint, unpretentious spot that always lends itself to a delicious meal, which in turn lends itself to great conversation with a date or friends. The strong smell of garlic and butter greets you along Esplanade, thanks to appetizers like the popular garlic and mushrooms. The complimentary warm bread and garlic aioli are also part of the magic. Deservedly famous for its paella, the restaurant offers meat, seafood, and veggie versions of the flavorful, traditional Spanish rice dish in addition to a dozen or so entrees.


Siberia Lounge

What initially began as a sort of hybrid metal bar is now home to a tamer and more versatile music club, bar and restaurant. Along the ever-evolving Saint Claude Corridor, Siberia offers a dim bar decorated with ornate mirrors, large paintings, and some wild, secondhand taxidermy including a ‘40s-era bobcat. The musical lineups run the gamut, but Siberia is notably one of New Orleans’ few bars that play host to local and touring Americana, alt-country, bluegrass, and folk artists. Thursday is always Eastern Bloc Party night, which features local Balkan and Klezmer music. Part of what makes Siberia so special is its kitchen, known for “Slavic Soul food” with highlights like pierogi, stroganoff, golubtsy, and popular vegetarian options like the famous beet reuben.


Chickie Wah Wah

While New Orleans is full of bars that host live music and even a number of large capacity clubs and theaters, one thing it’s short on is listening rooms. Chickie Wah Wah doesn’t operate like your traditional bar, full of TVs and patrons that may or may not tune in to what’s happening on stage. People go to Chickie Wah Wah to hear music and the room delivers with quality sound and vibe. While the venue hosts plenty of traditional, long-time New Orleans performers, you’ll also find quality touring acts. The venue largely plays host to a variety of Louisiana’s comfort-zone roots music genres such as jazz, blues, rock, and honky tonk.


Webb’s Bywater Music

Need something repaired? Need a pack of strings or pair of sticks? Webb’s Bywater Music is an unassuming neighborhood music shop with new and used instruments in addition to accessories. Well regarded, Paul Webb is considered the go-to guy by countless area musicians for their instrument and electronics repairs. The shop has the charming, cluttered vibe of an always-busy mom and pop store, one that lives on thanks to the loyal musicians who prefer quality service from a knowledgeable pro over cheap, corporate rigmarole.

Joey K’s

You can’t talk about New Orleans without naming at least one restaurant known for classic New Orleans fare, be it Creole, Cajun, soul or southern. I have to point out Joey K’s for what I consider a notable feat in a town famous for fried seafood: the best fry batter around. Of course the gumbo’s great. And you’ll always see a number of New Orleans’ finest hitting the stewed chicken, the white beans with a fried pork chop, or any number of daily specials. But my favorite is hands-down the fried catfish. The onion rings are heavenly—the best ever. You can’t go wrong with the fried chicken or shrimp, either.


Port Orleans Brewing

Port Orleans Brewing Company is one of many local craft breweries that have opened across the city in the last decade. Located on Tchoupitoulas Street, near the actual Port of New Orleans, Port Orleans makes my list for its bright, airy tasting room and easy-to-drink brews. Massive windows behind the bar showcase the impressive 30-barrel brewing area. On cool days, the tap room opens up its front wall, bringing the outdoors in. My favorite flagship beers include the Riverfront Lager and the Slackwater Brown Ale. Of course they’ve got great pale ales, India pale ales, and stouts. They even offer Mexican-style lagers, the Dorada and Negra Dorada. Variety is the spice of life, and variety abounds on tap at the brewery.


The Bombay Club

New Orleans is known for being a boozy city, and one of the benefits to living here is easy access to a quality cocktail. The Bombay Club is tucked away in the French Quarter, hidden under the Prince Conti Hotel. Entering the bar and restaurant requires a short stroll through the hotel’s parking garage, so it’s fitting that the dark, English-style pub feels a bit underground. Martinis are the focus at the Bombay Club, but you can expect an expertly crafted traditional New Orleans drink like a Pimm’s Cup or Sazerac as well. With an affordable snack-focused happy hour and a solid dinner menu, it’s a nice hideaway in what can be an otherwise very pricey and noisy French Quarter. Solo pianists and jazz duos appear nightly.


Mississippi River

Whether you’re chilling with locals at “The Fly” (Uptown) and Crescent Park (Bywater) or you’re strolling alongside tourists at the downtown riverfront, you can’t help but marvel at the waterway that breathed life into this region three hundred years ago. The Mississippi River is a behemoth of a river. Sitting beside its rushing waters will strike fear and wonder into anyone, a humbling experience to say the least. Watching the river barges piloting turns piled high with shipping containers will make you question what’s humanly possible in this world. Locals and visitors can enjoy the view from the various parks or by purchasing a ride on one of the paddle wheelers that offer a tour downriver. Touching ten states, the Mississippi River’s watershed drains all or parts of 31 states. That’s a lot water moving through New Orleans and into the Gulf of Mexico.


Lake Pontchartrain

Across town from the river views are views of Lake Ponchartrain. Made famous in a variety of folk songs, Lake Ponchartrain is a massive lake, forty miles wide, of brackish water that’s frighteningly home to both alligators and bull sharks. On Wednesday nights from March through November, you can watch or take part in sailboat races put on by the New Orleans Yacht Club. The lake offers a great view to accompany a dozen oysters on the half-shell at Felix’s, Blue Crab, or Landry’s. Grabbing a bite near the yacht club or sitting along the banks of the lake is great for people watching, bird watching, boat watching—you name it. Water views make everything better. But maybe it’s just the Pisces in me.


Tickfaw State Park

Just on the other side of Lake Pontchartrain, about an hour’s drive outside of New Orleans is Tickfaw State Park. Though smaller and less recently updated than some of Louisiana’s other state parks, Tickfaw offers something many of the other parks don’t: easy boat access to calm waterways full of magnificent bayou wildlife like alligators, turtles, snakes, egrets, blue herons, and butterflies. The calm, manageable canoe trail out to the oft-slow Tickfaw River gives you an opportunity to leisurely stroll by canoe or kayak through gorgeous, albeit murky, South Louisiana waterways. For hikers, the park offers a three-mile river trail in addition to over a mile’s worth of boardwalk trails, but wear your boots—the park often detains floodwaters when rains overflow the Tickfaw River banks.


Travel photos by Kelcy Wilburn, except Port Orleans Brewing by Bill Loehfelm
Photo of Kelcy Mae by Summer Dorr

LISTEN: Jon Hatchett, “You Can’t Regret What You Don’t Remember”

Artist: Jon Hatchett
Hometown: New Orleans, Louisiana
Song: “You Can’t Regret What You Don’t Remember”
Album: Mother Nature Wins Again
Release Date: October 26, 2018

In Their Words: “I wanted to make an album of music to dance to, but lyrically explores sad or difficult territory that is relatable. For instance, this song was written as a comedic cautionary tale about getting phone calls in the morning about what happened the night before, but not remembering it.

The cover illustration (by my friend and neighbor Nicky Bob Shoulders) comes from the title track, taking problems we (at least myself) face in society today. I tried to set these things in popular uptempo form, with the familiar and the unfamiliar put together — a form of satire to think about, but also to party to.

Most of my favorite dogs are mutts, and you could say the same about this album. It’s country enough to where you can two-step to most of it, but there is a touch of New Orleans R&B, rock and roll, and really whatever we thought fit the song. We tried to arrange it while still letting it feel loose enough to step out of the range of conventional country music.” — Jon Hatchett


Photo credit: John Dixon

Coming Around: A Conversation with Andrew Duhon

Andrew Duhon took a winding road to get to False River, his first album in five years. The New Orleans musician endured a crushing breakup that prompted the new suite of songs, then came up dry while looking for the right producer. Finally, the tide turned when he met Eric Masse, who ultimately helmed the sessions in his East Nashville studio, The Casino.

They both had a lot to live up to, as Duhon’s prior album, The Moorings, received a Grammy nomination for best engineered album. However, with touring band members Myles Week on bass and Max Zemanovic on drums, Duhon immersed himself in False River. With Masse’s guidance, the dynamics of Duhon’s voice are never drowned out. Instead, on thoughtful ballads and exuberant songs alike, his compelling baritone effortlessly converges with the band. He caught up with the Bluegrass Situation during a coffee break in Nashville.

I’m curious about the studio vibe for this record. How would you describe The Casino to somebody who’s never been in there?

Well, it is a garage recording studio, but of the finest standards. They did a good job to build it out and get some good sound in there. But as [Eric Masse] said, and I appreciated on our first phone call, he said, “You know, I call it The Casino because I gamble with artists’ careers.” He laughed immediately and I laughed. But I appreciated that because in our first phone call he made it very clear that he understood the gravity of what he was taking from me to create.

I think I could have gone much safer routes to put these songs down in their immortal form, but he helped us make a much bolder record and take some chances that I’m sure we wouldn’t have otherwise. On the first day of recording, he said, “We’re in Nashville right now and there’s 150 records being made today that are the singer-songwriter Nashville records. We can make one of those or we can make something else. We can make something different. We can try to make a cool record that’s never been made.” And there was no doubt that’s what we were there to do.

Well, that’s an interesting comment about the so-called Nashville songwriter record because that isn’t what you do at all. Have you ever lived here?

No.

No, so you wouldn’t even be that.

I did make my first record here. And you’re right, I think coming from New Orleans there’s more than osmosis from that place than from Nashville. But certainly I think I was first inspired by the stories in country songs. I would credit that as a reason why I’m trying to be a songwriter and not a poet. There’s something really special about the American songbook, so to speak.

What area of country music in particular are you thinking about?

Well, I remember that in my dad’s van, it was George Jones and Garth Brooks. Not everybody I was listening to was writing the songs, but there was an adherence to the story and they were really serving the song. So I appreciate that craft, for sure. … But I do enjoy, for the moment, only recording the songs I wrote myself. I’m open to the co-writing idea or recording other songs that just speak to you. But so far it’s been really a validating path to just figure out what I want to say.

Yeah. It seems to me that you figured it out, too.

No way, dude. I think I’m figuring out that I’m on the right path. You know, it still feels like I don’t see any rest stop up ahead or anything. It feels like, OK, if there’s two months, three months that go by where there’s not a new song to add to that path, then I start wondering what am I doing: “OK, wait, I’m out of balance, I need to go back to songwriting and stop putting on the business hat every day.”

I guess what I mean by that, it seems like you’re able to articulate after that breakup what was in your mind and that you were able to convey that on the record. Would you agree?

Oh, sure.

And I like “Comin’ Around” because it seems like you’re saying “Alright, I’m coming around to something better.” And then you explain where you’ve been, which I thought was an interesting way to structure that record. What was your frame of mind when you wrote that song?

Yeah, it has that little wordplay about the element of the spherical nature of the world, right? And this cute idea that if you walk in one direction you’ll end up back where you were, theoretically speaking. So to go away from something, but to be coming around in that physical sense, spherical sense, but also in a figurative sense like, “I didn’t like tomatoes as a kid, but I’m comin’ around.”

I love the idea that maybe coming around on that heartbreak means I’m coming around to that person – or I’m coming around to the idea that I’m just not going to be with that person. I like that there wasn’t really an answer in that song necessarily, but moving forward, what’s going to be the answer? At the time when I wrote that song, that’s what I needed. I needed to know that the only way back to her way straight ahead. I needed to go far enough away to really get an answer.

I wanted to ask you about melody. I think a lot of songwriters get asked about their lyrics so much but how much time do you spend on melody, making the songs stand apart?

I think I wander blindly through the dark when it comes to melody. I don’t think it’s innate to me, what a catchy melody is at all. I think I probably struggle to write something catchy. I will try things and especially on the road, I’ll try a lot of different interpretations. It was great for those years on the road with this band because they were always listening and I can hear them grunt with pleasure sometimes if I tried something they liked. “OK, grab that one and put that one in my pocket.”

And I think a lot of melodies were honed that way specifically, just improvising a new rendition of the same song and coming up with a new idea. … But then again, you know, the track is just another rendition that you sang. The producer picked his favorite version and I’ll sing it differently next time. I don’t always adhere to the same melody and I love the idea of writing a catchier melody, but it’s not my focus.

I think a lot of the music that I like has a sense of motion to it. That’s your life, basically, it seems like. Are you ever in one place for more than a couple months at a time?

No, that’s right. I love traveling songs myself, but not so obviously a traveling song, necessarily. But I think since getting out of college, it just started with me sleeping in my car and getting shitty shows that paid just enough to get gas and a meal and go to the next spot. But I thought that was going to introduce me to some new place that I hadn’t grown up in and I wouldn’t just be a product of my raising or the place that I grew up. I would find this new place.

And I learned two things since then. One, that I’m really lucky to be raised in New Orleans because that is a very special place. The other thing is, I think travel is more about changing everything around you while everything inside stays the same. So you really get a sense of “How do I react to all these different things?” You learn what’s in there, more than all these things that are changing, and you only get a snippet of.

It goes back to a line that I read in a homework assignment in English class in high school which was Ralph Waldo Emerson’s essay Self Reliance. And the line was, “To believe that what is true for you in your private heart is true for all men — that is genius.” And that was a new idea for me. To me it said, “Wait a minute, so if my quest in life is to go and seek out the goal, wherever it is, maybe it’s not out there. Maybe it’s in here. And that was a special moment. And I think it introduced me to my artistic will.

Yeah, well you have to have that to be an artist or a songwriter. I would think you have to believe you can say something in a way specific to you but also that someone else would enjoy.

Without a doubt, that is true. Without that theory, I’m wasting my time.


Photo credit: Hunter Holder

LISTEN: Ric Robertson, “The Friend”

Artist: Ric Robertson
Hometown: New Orleans, Louisiana
Song: “The Friend”
Album: The Fool, The Friend
Release Date: June 29, 2018
Label: Blue Hens Music

In Their Words: “Sometimes I wake up ready to seize the day. But most often, I’m just trying to keep the wheels on my life. This tune is a loving and somewhat envious tribute to the folks who seem to have it all figured out.” – Ric Robertson


Photo credit: Gina Leslie

Bringing It All Back Home: A Conversation With Luke Winslow-King

Luke Winslow-King has been drawn to the blues since he was a kid growing up in Cadillac, Michigan. At 14 years old, his namesake blues band was playing clubs and festivals around the Midwest. Whatever he lacked in life experience, he made up for it with prodigious guitar work and an easy stage presence. Yet any lingering innocence would have eventually fallen away following 15 years of living in New Orleans, spiked with a couple of international tours.

Now in his mid-30s, Winslow-King’s pedigree in the blues is far more defined after enduring a divorce, the loss of his father, a couple of friendships falling apart, and the deaths of more than a few musical influences. In other words, he’s no longer just a boy with the blues. In fact Blue Mesa is Winslow-King’s first new album since he moved back to Cadillac from New Orleans last year. Considering what he’s been though, his writing offers a streak of hard-won optimism in songs like “Better for Knowing You” and “After the Rain,” elevating Blue Mesa beyond just another breakup record.

At what point during the making of this record did you move back to Michigan?

It probably was right after we recorded it that I moved to Michigan. I went on tour for three months, so I didn’t live anywhere. Then I moved to Michigan after the tour. I was in transition at that time. I’ve spent the better part of 15 years in New Orleans. Some of that time was spent in New York or on the road, but I’ve been in New Orleans pretty solid since 2001 or 2002. I learned a lot; the city has been great to me. It’s been an incredible place to get my career started. I’ll enjoy going back there soon, but I’m just ready for something else right now.

Was there a moment where you said, “All right, I’m changing”?

Yeah. I went through a divorce there and did some editing as far as my friend group goes. Now I just want to be in a place with nature and family so I can focus on my career in a different way. When I’m home, I’m off. When I’m on the road, I’m on the road. In New Orleans, you come off the road and you’re in this music scene where you’re playing every night or every other night when you’re home. It’s nice, man. I’ve been enjoying fishing, and bowling, and canoeing, and cross country skiing. It feels real to be back home. I’m enjoying it.

Has that helped your creative mindset?

I think so. I’m feeling less pressured to write and do business and just being like, “You know what? This is my life.” I’m going to follow it through and do the best I can. If people like it, cool. If they don’t, then someone else will. just keeping at it and trying to keep it real rather than force anything. I think that’s how the record comes off a little too. I quit telling the band what to do and just let them do what they do best. If I didn’t like it I would tell them but usually I was just like, “Sure. Sounds great, let’s go for it.” I think there’s a certain breath of freedom in it.

You’ve got a lot of tasteful playing on this record. How did you learn the skill of not overplaying or just ripping through your songs?

Just listening, and years of playing, and learning how to speak through the guitar. The guitar doesn’t necessarily have to sound like a guitar. You can speak a language through it or sing through it. My guitarist Roberto Luti, who is not touring with us because he’s back in Italy, is my guitar maestro. He is our unicorn for gathering the spirit and learning how to be very tasteful and minimalist on a guitar. I’ve learned a lot watching him too.

How did the Italian recording sessions for this album come about?

Well, we were hitting the road pretty hard in Europe this summer for eight weeks or something like that. We had a five-day break in the middle of it and we were in Italy anyway. Roberto is from there, so he knew people who owned a really nice studio. It ended up being this cool getaway up in the mountains in Tuscany. We had the tunes ready enough. We had to rehearse a little to get ready for the session but the tunes were at that perfect point where they weren’t over-rehearsed.

We caught a really cool moment, which is really important in a session. We were comfortable with each other and the material. We all needed a break, but we were still excited about the music. Everyone was laid-back. This is the first album where I’ve kept all my live vocals. Usually I go back and do an overdub session, which a lot of people do, but it felt nice to be like, “This is natural and real.” All the takes on the solos and guitars are live. There are keyboard overdubs and edits here and there, but it’s mostly all live.

It makes sense to do it that way, rather than get it so perfect that it’s too polished.

There’s a sweet spot – you obviously have to know the songs well enough. I’m a huge Bob Dylan fan and listen to records like Desire. You can tell the rhythm section has maybe never heard the song before. It makes for an awesome recording. Everyone is on their toes.

You had a blues band when you were a teenager in Michigan, right?

Yeah. I grew up in northern Michigan and I started the Winslow-King Blues Band when I was 13. We played a few music festivals. My parents used to go see me play at bars on the weekend. I’ve come back to a sound that’s a lot more similar to what I was playing when I was 14 years old, which is like an electric trio with a Stratocaster playing blues. The difference is I’ve lived between then. I’ve explored folk music. I had classical string quartets on my first album. New Orleans jazz was mixed in there for a while. I tried jazz, a lot of different styles.

Now I’m playing original music that I can stand by. There’s a lot more diversity in it, of course, but it feels good to come full circle and be back to my roots. A lot of my friends back home were like, “When are you going to rock again? I remember when you were young you used to rock.” Even my dad was like, “I liked it when you rocked.” I’m back to that, so it feels good.

I wonder what that’s like for people who remember you as a teenager, and now you’re back home as an adult. They have to reevaluate you and you have to reevaluate them at this stage. Has that been the case for you?

Well, that’s what’s so great about going home and being back with your old family and friends. It’s a very understanding reevaluation. You are who you are. The friendships go beyond whatever music you’re playing or what notes you’re playing. I’m glad to be back home and have salt-of-the-earth friends. My best friend was a logger and now is a sand miner; my other best friend is a fishing guide and snow plow truck driver in the winter. It’s cool to have friends who are concerned with normal daily life. You can go fishing and hang out and not have everyone be into cool music everywhere you go.

This album has very cinematic moments too. A lot of it felt like it could be placed in movies on the closing credits. Are there soundtracks or composers that you consider primary influences?

Yeah. I’m a huge Ry Cooder fan. That’s one of his things that he’s been known for and made a career out of. I’m also a big fan of Neil Young’s soundtrack for the Dead Man movie. I’ve always really liked that and listen to that in the van sometimes. I went to school for classical music and I’ve always loved great classical music. I also love Clint Eastwood. I’ve been watching a lot of Clint Eastwood and Sergio Leone movies and hearing that stuff too. It’s not necessarily stylistically what I want to do but I love how evocative some of those sounds are and how much they bring the listener to the setting. It would be cool to be able to do that in my own way with my music.

Are there any filmmakers other than Clint Eastwood that have affected the way you see your art?

I’ve watched all five Rocky movies and all the Rambo movies this winter, I’m embarrassed to say.

No, don’t be embarrassed. Rocky won an Oscar.

Chris Davis, my drummer, is a huge, huge Rocky fan. We just went to Philly and ran the stairs while we were there. Honestly we’re in this Stallone phase. Roberto, our Italian guitarist, always says ‘Stallone-ay’ which we love. Honestly, Rocky is a really inspiring movie. I appreciate that Stallone did that movie on a shoestring budget and was inspired to make it himself. Right now Rocky has been what I’m all about. It’s that underdog mentality. Even though everyone makes fun of Stallone and it is so cheesy, and some of the acting is so terrible, there’s a really beautiful sentiment in that movie about going the distance.

 


Photos by Victor Alonso

The Heritage of New Orleans’ Jazz Fest

Three hundred years ago just about now — May 7, 1718, so legend has it — representatives of the riches-minded colonial French Mississippi Company decided that a malaria-infested swamp in the crescent bend near the base of the river for which it was named would make a great place for a port settlement. Nouvelle-Orléans they called it.

Thanks to them, over the course of the next couple of weekends, not too far from that original settlement, you can find a spot where, depending on how the breezes are blowing, you will be able to hear five, six, maybe seven kinds of music all at once. This is music representing cultures from all over the world — from Haiti, from Mali, from Cuba, from Brazil, from Nova Scotia, from the bayous and prairies just a few hours away, and from Congo Square on the edge of that former swamp. Music originated by escaped slaves, by French refugees booted out of Eastern Canada, by Irish dockworkers, by free people of color and landed aristocrats, by Baptist celebrants and Catholic congregants and European Jewish immigrants. Oh, and of the indigenous tribes who were there long before the Europeans. Blues, gospel, country, rock, salsa, merengue, Celtic, hip-hop, bounce, rara, R&B, Cajun, zydeco, klezmer, funk, brass bands’ Mardi Gras Indian chants, and real Indians’ pow-wow chants. And jazz, of course, both traditional and modern, just for a start.

And while you’re standing there, in that same spot, you can savor the irresistible aromas of cuisine from just as many traditions, all blended together in ways that have come to be associated with this place, which we now know as New Orleans … though that’s a different story … or a different part of the same story, perhaps.

That spot is in the middle of the Louisiana Fairgrounds which, part of the year, is a horse-racing track, but for the last weekend in April and first in May, has for decades been the site of the famed New Orleans Jazz & Heritage Festival. And this year, the event is marking the city’s tricentennial with a valiant attempt to showcase and celebrate all of the many cultures that made this city like nowhere else in North America, really nowhere else in the world. Technically, that’s always been part of the mission of what people refer to as JazzFest — its baker’s dozen of stages spread around the grounds hosting artists with connections to that heritage.

This year, that specific mission will be concentrated in a tent very near that mid-Fairgrounds spot. Most years, a Cultural Exchange Pavilion has hosted music, art, crafts, and workshops devoted to a particular country or culture with historic ties to New Orleans. Cuba was spotlighted last year, Belize in 2016, and Haiti, Mali, Brazil, and Native America among others featured in recent years. For the tricentennial, all of that is being squeezed into the pavilion, an ambitious, but fitting focus.

The late, great singer Ernie K-Doe was fond of saying that, while he wasn’t positive, he was pretty sure “all music came from New Orleans.” Hyperbole from a man who called himself the Emperor of the Universe? Well, a little, maybe. A more accurate statement might be that pretty much all music came to, and through, New Orleans. Heck, after hosting its first documented opera performance in 1796, the city was known as “the Opera Capital of North America” through the next century. And, if you roll your eyes when JazzFest announces its big name artist headliners — a crop this year including Aerosmith, Sting, Beck, Rod Stewart, Lionel Richie, and LL Cool J — well, how many of them would be making the music they make, if not for the powerful influences of music tied to the heritage of New Orleans and the surrounding region?

It was all pretty much in place, even before the city’s single centennial, as cultural historian Ned Sublette notes in the introduction to his definitive 2005 account of those first 100 years, The World That Made New Orleans.

“New Orleans was the product of complex struggles among competing international forces,” he wrote. “It’s easy to perceive New Orleans’ apartness from the rest of the United States, and much writing about the city understandably treats it as an eccentric, peculiar place. But I prefer to see it in its wider context. A writer in 1812 called it ‘the great mart of all wealth of the Western world.’ By that time, New Orleans was a hub of commerce and communication that connected the Mississippi watershed, the Gulf Rim, the Atlantic seaboard, the Caribbean Rim, Western Europe (especially France and Spain), and various areas of West and Central Africa.”

And with all of that came music, gene-splicing and mutating through the years, from the drumming, dancing, and singing of slaves, given Sundays off, gathering in what became known as Congo Square (in what is now Louis Armstrong Park, just across Rampart from the French Quarter) to the backstreets and brothels of the Storyville district down the street where Buddy Bolden and Armstrong played their horns and Jelly Roll Morton worked the sounds of Latin America — “the Spanish tinge” — into roiling piano adventures through the collision of rhythm & blues and country-blues in the years just after World War II that brought about the birthing of rock ’n’ roll in Cosimo Matassa’s J&M Studios right on the other side of Rampart.

As Sublette put it: “The distance between rocking the city in 1819 and [Roy Brown’s] ‘Good Rocking Tonight’ in 1947 was about a block.”

At the same time, that distance is a trip around the world. This year, it’s all in one little tent.

A few highlights of note from the Cultural Exchange Pavilion lineup:

Sidi Touré — The guitarist, singer, and songwriter from Bamako, Mali, is one of the leading figures in modern Songhaï blues, roots of which became American blues and its variations via slaves brought across the Atlantic and, in turn, influenced by American blues and rock.

The Cajun/Acadienne Connection — A special collaboration between descendants of French settlers relocated to the Louisiana bayou prairies after being booted out of Eastern Canada by the conquering British in1755, and descendants of those who managed to stay in Canada. The former is represented by the Savoy Family Band, Marc and Ann Savoy standing among the leading forces in the revival of once-oppressed Cajun music and culture joined by sons Joel and Wilson, who have brought their own vitality to the form. The latter comes via Vishtèn, a young trio from the resilient Francophone community on Easter Canada’s Prince Edward Island which mixes French Acadian and Celtic influences with overt nods to their Louisiana “cousins.”

Cynthia Girtley’s Tribute to Mahalia Jackson — The formidable Girtley, who bills herself as “New Orleans Gospel Diva” offers her homage to New Orleans’ (and the world’s) Queen of Gospel and force in the Civil Rights Movement who, two years before her death, was a surprise performer at the very first JazzFest in 1970 in Congo Square, singing “Just a Closer Walk with Thee” with the Eureka Brass Band, followed by a formal concert the next night in the adjacent Municipal Auditorium, which now bears her name.

Tribute to Jelly Roll Morton with special guest Henry Butler — New Orleans-born Butler has long been one of the leading keepers of the flame of the city’s great piano traditions, an heir to such greats as Prof. Longhair and James Booker. Here, he is featured in a set honoring Morton who, if not the inventor of jazz (as he was wont to boast himself), was one of its key innovators and promoters in its formative years.

Jupiter & Okwess — Hailing from the Democratic Republic of the Congo’s capital Kinshasa, dynamic singer Jupiter Bokondji and his forceful band have become an international force in modern Congolese music, as it’s taken to the global road recently, gripping audiences at festivals and clubs alike in Europe and North America.

Kermit Ruffins’ Tribute to Louis Armstrong — Trumpeter and singer Ruffins became a star as a teen, helping lead a new generation of NOLA street musicians with the Rebirth Brass Band in the ‘90s, and has continued as a local favorite through his solo career (plus wider exposure via featured spots in HBO’s Treme, among other things). His love for and debt to the one-and-only Satchmo has always been a core presence in his playing and gravelly, good-natured vocal approach.

Leyla McCalla — The cellist, banjoist, and singer emerged in the second version of the Carolina Chocolate Drops alongside Rhiannon Giddens. Settling in New Orleans and starting a family, she’s dug deep into Haitian and Creole roots in her colorfully wide-ranging solo albums, showing herself a visionary, talented artist in her own right.

The East Pointers — Another young trio from Canada’s Prince Edward Island, this group draws more on the British-Celtic traditions, but with the distinct character of its home. Their latest album, What We Leave Behind, explores the sadness of young people leaving the island to seek work and wider horizons elsewhere.

Lakou Mizik — This Port-au-Prince group has been called the Buena Vista All Stars of Haiti, as it was formed after the devastating 2010 earthquake around a vibrant core of Haitian musical elders joining with rising youngsters. Their 2017 JazzFest performance was one of the year’s highlights.


Photo of Congo Square courtesy of New Orleans Jazz & Heritage Festival