|
LIVING & TRAVEL
Tripod reports on the big festival in the Big Easy.
by andrew dean nystrom
I wanted to recover in style from six exhausting weeks of writing while on
the dusty road in Mexico, so I jetted to New Orleans just in time to catch
the last weekend of Jazz Fest and some righteous cuisine.
There are two salient reasons to visit the Crescent City: music and food.
To savor the full flavor of the "City that Care Forgot," it's best to
mosey on down when there is a party going on -- fortunately that is most of
the year.
During the most famous party of all, Mardi Gras (two weeks leading up to
February 11, 1997), or anytime between the New Year's Countdown festivities
and Fat Tuesday, the city is swamped by a million out-of-town revelers and the bacchanalia that ensues.
Most locals will tell you that the annual New Orleans Jazz and
Heritage Festival, or "Jazz Fest," is the best time to visit. Held between
the last weekend in April and the first weekend in May (April 25-May 4,
1997), the Fest features a veritable buffet of local music and cuisine, with
more than 4,000 musicians performing when all is said and done. Despite the
name of the festival, the rhythms are eclectic: more bluesy, funky, folksy,
and gospely than jazzy -- but all pay homage to the roots of Jazz.
Held at the Fairgrounds, just outside of downtown, the Fest draws local
acts like Boozo Chavis, Kermit Ruffins and the BBQ Swingers, Harry Connick Sr. (the father), and many jazz legends. The food tents are catered by some
of the best local eateries, and afford the opportunity to sample such unique
offerings as soft shell crab po'boys (stuffed sandwiches), fried
alligator, crawfish etouff�e (succulent swamp critters smothered in a thick
tomato stew), and gumbo or bouillabaisse (sassy soups that are heavy on
seafood and spices).
The best thing about the Fest is the concentrated sampling of an
astonishing array of food and music. Most people end up going out to the
fairgrounds for a few days, but spend the majority of their time
exploring the clubs and cafes in the evenings, searching for more
intimate venues to enjoy the vibrant local music that the Fest has turned them on to.
For the most in-depth coverage of the local music scene, turn to OffBeat
Magazine. It provides
comprehensive local club listings, and even tracks the movements of Louisiana
musicians when they tour, so you can find out where to fais-do-do to Cajun
and Zydeco once you leave the Big Easy.
Many people make their reservations for the next Fest as they are leaving
the current one, so it is best to call ahead for accommodations. Tickets go on sale through Ticketmaster well in advance
($10 per day plus service charges), but the standing-room only fairgrounds
are never full, so you can always buy at the gate ($15 per day). Parking is
very limited. Biking or parking nearby and walking, or taking a
park-and-ride shuttle, are your best bets. And come prepared for both
scorching sun and at least one day of rain (and the resulting mud).
For more info on Louisiana, New Orleans, and the barrage of festivals, call
1-800-633-6970, or check out these web resources:
Official Jazz Fest Site
Virtually New Orleans
Insider's Guide to the Big Easy
The Times-Picayune Newspaper
Leading local ISP
Java-enhanced House of Blues
Andrew Dean Nystrom wrote Tripod's Alternative (Spring) Break series. This is his final dispatch, but, like any good tourist, he returned with rolls of film -- look out for a gallery of his work next week, in Tripod's Living and Travel section.
|
by anthony qaiyum
During my first full day in New Orleans I witnessed more great live music than I had seen in the previous few years. Okay, so I live in Williamstown, MA, but I've still managed to catch such jazz greats as Elvin Jones, McCoy Tyner and Joshua Redman, funksters like Groove Collective and the Ohio Players, and rap act The Pharcyde -- I'm no slacker. It's just that the New Orleans Jazz and Heritage Festival elevates live music to a level that's only possible in the Birthplace of Jazz.
If you have any affinity toward jazz, the Fest is a must. Early legends like King Oliver, Jelly Roll Morton, and the inimitable Louis Armstrong all called New Orleans home. The city's vibrant tradition continues with native sons Wynton and Branford Marsalis, and a host of lesser known, local stars who work the thriving music scene in the Big Easy.
Even if jazz is not your thang, the Fest had plenty to scratch any musical itch. Ten main stages (each with performances stacked from 11 am to 7 pm) allowed festival-goers to choose from blues, zydeco, gospel, funk, Latin, folk, rock, pop, and many other genres. Popstars Phish, the Indigo Girls, the Dave Matthews Band, Joan Osborne, and the Allman Brothers lent mainstream appeal to the affair (and drew the crowds away from the smaller jams where my friends and I spent most of our time).
The audience makeup reflected the diversity of the music. The racially mixed throng contained everything from bikini-clad beer hounds to proper ladies and gentlemen decked out in their linen threads. While the latter tended to stay near the tents (where they didn't have to sit on the grass) it was not unusual to see local families enjoying the music next to schools of Phish-heads, who looked -- and often smelled -- as though they hadn't taken a shower since they left their New England prep schools.
There were so many entertainment options on the fairgrounds that it's impossible to give a comprehensive review. But that was the best part about it. We spent two days there -- Sunday, April 28 and Friday, May 3 -- and tried to catch a little bit of everything. Whenever an act was less than slammin' (which was rare) or we needed a different vibe, we just wandered to the next tent or stage to check what was going down.
Snooks Eaglin was the first full act that we caught, and it set the tone for the rest of the week. I'm not sure how old Snooks is, but he needed help onto the stage from his bassist, George Porter of The Meters. But when he sat down, he grabbed his guitar and began to play some funkafied blues. The crowd was up and dancing in no time. At the height of one solo, Snooks stood up and played his guitar behind his head -- his small body looked like it might collapse, but he kept jamming as if it were the only thing holding him up. Even the tightest members of the crowd couldn't resist bouncing their heads to the beat. Despite his lack of mobility, Snooks is a regular performer at nightclubs and bars in the Big Easy, so be sure to catch him if you make the trip.
Next we saw some Mardi Gras Indians chanting and dancing in their elaborate costumes. It's a New Orleans tradition that is as much visual as it is aural. The cultural tour continued as we followed a parade containing Indians, a marching group and the New Birth Brass Band through the grounds. When we finally danced away from that human train, we headed toward the gospel tent where the Ebenezer Missionary BC Choir was singing. The beauty and control of the voices in the choir captured the full attention of the large crowd. As we were leaving the tent, I told my friend, "Damn! If that's what going to church meant, I'd be there every Sunday for sure."
There were lectures, craft tables, and historical exhibits strewn over the grounds, but for me the only serious distraction from the music was the food. The aroma of countless N'awlins specialties easily lured festival-goers away from the tents and stages for a sampling. Everything from alligator pie to oyster po' boys satisfied the hungry masses. My favorite was crawfish bread, a thick crust overflowing with cheese and spicy chunks of the freshwater shellfish.
After we stuffed our faces to the accompaniment of a Dixieland jazz band, we managed to catch Chaka Khan performing some old Rufus tunes, but we left early to get seats for living legend, vibraphonist Lionel Hampton. A member of the infamous Modern Jazz Quartet, this 88 year-old looked as though he might collapse with every step he took on stage. As he began his set, it became apparent that his aging body was preventing him from achieving his musical vision. But his mere presence energized the audience, and his open-mouthed smile at the end of every solo brought tears to many eyes, and informed any who didn't already know that they were in the presence of a true genius.
As we finally left the fairgrounds, I realized that we hadn't even been in the Crescent City for 24 hours. Unbelievable. We headed back to our friend's apartment to gather strength for our outing that night to a small uptown club where we would see Walter "Wolfman" Washington and his blues group tear it up well into the morning hours. I recognized then what the rest of the week would only reaffirm: if you're a serious music lover, or you just want to have a damn good time, there's no finer time and place than Jazzfest in New Orleans.
Anthony Qaiyum is Tripod's Politics and Community editor and an avid jazz fan. We let him out for the week on the condition that he chronicle the festival for Tripod.
|
