‘08 fest notes May 4, 2008
I don’t know what got into me yesterday, but I went to Jazz Fest without sunscreen. I guess I just assumed it was going to rain all day, since that seemed to be this year’s theme. Twenty minutes into Henry Butler’s set, I was beet red. We went to the Foundation’s hospitality room to recover and a nice woman there took pity and rubbed suncreen all over me.
I sat with B and Sophmom on the balcony overlooking the Allison Miner stage and heard a very pleasant performance by Spencer Bohren. Unfortunately, a helicopter kept buzzing the area and drowned him out at times.
I think my favorite thing about Jazz Fest, after Crawfish Strudel, is the craft booths. When they first moved the contemporary crafts out of the infield and onto the paved area, I didn’t like it because it always seemed so hot out there and the sun was blinding. This year, the weather was much cooler than it usually is because of all the rain. The contemporary crafts area was mostly dry and completely free of mud. I realized that as you make your way down the rows of booths, you can clearly hear what’s going on in the Gospel tent, then you can clearly hear the Blues tent at the other end.
I went on a bit of a shopping binge that included a couple of beautiful dresses from Kate Beck and another aluminum cut-out bracelet from Go-Go.
At the end of the day, B and I went to Viv’s, where we had the most delicious dinner in a lovely setting in Vivian’s beautiful garden. A friend of theirs had single-handedly cooked crawfish etouffee, grits and grillades, bar-b-qued whole beef filet, eggplant parmesian and I don’t know what-all for 30 people. A beautiful meal to top off a beautiful day. Most of the group was from out of town, here just for Jazz Fest. It’s always interesting to meet people who have come to town visiting. One interesting thing about last night was that the visitors asked us about Mardi Gras, the Neville Brothers, etc., but no one even mentioned the hurricane. It seems like for such a long time now, people who don’t know you would always ask if your house got flooded.
Some of Viv’s guests were from New Iberia, so she had Remy on display with some of his shriveled flowers still clinging to him. His Spanish moss beard still looked great.
I woke up still pretty sunburned, so I decided not to go festing today and just hang around the compound. B and Sophmom didn’t want to go either, so we gave our tickets and our hospitality room passes to Hana Morris, her mother and her kids. Hana said that she wants her kids to be real New Orleanians, so she wants to start them off going to Jazz Fest. It seems a lot harder to do that nowadays. When my kids were little, you could still set up canopies at the back of the audience area. We used to sit under the canopy shade with the kids all day while the menfolks brought us beer and food, the way God intended it.
bettye lavette October 4, 2007
Don came over last night and we talked about some of the names that are being suggested for Jazz Fest. Some were unfamiliar, and some were big names who have recently released CDs, so we googled them up on various music websites like Project Playlist and checked them out. Here is the find of the evening, in my opinion:
Betty Lavette, You Don’t Know Me At All
The linked website, Stereogum.com, has a download of the MP3. I downloaded and played it last night, and my computer is still alive to tell the tale.
Lavette is a 61-year-old Detroit blues singer who is making a comeback and recording with Drive-by Truckers. How cool is this grandma? She sounds like Mavis Staples, but with more attitude. I have no idea if she will end up playing at Jazz Fest, but I would definitely show up.
jazz fest 1 May 8, 2007
Adrastos, who has pictures, is a great Jazz Fest companion. He, Dr. A. and I went together all day Saturday and all day Sunday. They were easy and loose, which I love. If we made it to our announced destination we were very proud of ourselves because we were quite open to distractions. Adrastos made it clear that he wanted to see Steely Dan, but other than that he would have sat on the infield and watched the grass grow if that’s what Dr. A and I wanted to do.
Personally, I’m very easily distracted by shiney objects, like the kind they have in the crafts booths, but I managed to look and not buy this year. I missed some of my favorite artists because they were there the first weekend only, but I saw fellow SLU art department graduates Chris Menconi and Kathy Schorr’s work. Schorr is a fabric designer who designed this years’ “How-are-ya” shirt. The shirts were so popular they sold out the first weekend and more had to be rush-ordered. Menconi does the funny, charming animal sculptures.
On Saturday, we saw Zigaboo Modaliste after getting the heads up from Lisa that Renard was playing in the band. They gave a great show, which included singer Danon Smith, one of my favorites. We had a great view from the nearly empty VIP section in front of the stage. There was a short, bald guy watching with us and I though I was supposed to know him because he looked so familiar. Later, Zigaboo said he wanted to introduce a very special person from the audience. Up comes the same guy from back stage - it was Paul Schaeffer. I’m the worst at spotting celebrities - almost as bad as Sopmom when she missed Bette Midler. On New Year’s Eve, I walked right past Patricia Clarkson, probably my favorite actress, and Campbell Scott on Royal Street.
Also on Saturday, we got acquainted with the Foundation hospitality suite in the grandstand. Scott Aiges, who now works at the Foundation, turned the area into a wonderful cool oasis. The Foundation is having a membership drive, so if you become a $1,000 donor, you too can have access (for two) to this wonderful, if not life-saving, perk. The Adrastoi loved the clean bathrooms and the comfy air conditioning, but I was most impressed by the free beer.
At times this weekend, it was so hot at the Fairgrounds that we really couldn’t watch any acts unless they were under a tent. Since we spent so much time in them, we noticed that there were fantastic, big-stage-worthy acts in the tents this year. Incidently, they’ve also, thankfully, brought back the Blues Tent, now sponsored by Southern Comfort. The Alvin Batiste tribute was great, also Taj Mahal, Snooks Eaglin (with George Porter, Jr. hovering over him like a mother hen), and the incredible Deacon John.
We ended the day Saturday with Deacon John, who was probably the best thing I saw all weekend. He is an incredible, unstoppable showman. His band was tight, again with Danon Smith singing “Mama, He Treats Your Daughter Mean.” I was standing almost behind the stage at one point and I didn’t notice that Deacon John had left it. Suddenly, I saw him literally running around the corner to re-enter in a fresh costume. It was very inspirational to see a man who recently lost his son but who can put that much into a show. The crowd was great, too.
the community property fountain April 28, 2007
Yesterday morning I took my first exam. Don brought me Jazz Fest tickets for this weekend, but I didn’t want to go yesterday and I don’t want to go today. I have an exam this afternoon and another one on Monday, and I’m afraid to get sun-stroked and dehydrated. I love the sun, but it doesn’t love me. Look out next weekend, though.
I gave the tickets to Amy, Laurence and their friends and I’ll probably take Jackson for a few hours on Sunday. Today it’s Rod Stewart, who, although a natural blond, does not interest me. Don thinks it’s going to be packed. The weather is beyond beautiful, but it’s hot. “Hot” does not stop New Orleans people, in fact it encourages them, so I’m sure the Fairgrounds will be jamming and jammed.
After my exam yesterday, I drove to a house Uptown where a woman was giving away aloe plants on Freecycle New Orleans. On my way home, I passed through Hollygrove. I saw a pile of red paving stones and a busted-up concrete walkway on the side of the street, where a flooded house has been demolished.
I was supposed to go home and study for community property, so naturally I drove over to Home Depot and picked up a big tub ($29.00) and a water pump ($40.00, plus hose) so I could build a fountain in my back yard. I brought the tub and pump home, then I grabbed my gloves and drove back over to the demolished house. I loaded about a ton of filthy paving stones and masonry debris into the newly-cleaned Exploder, which leaned over like a clown car, and brought it home. This kind of stuff is why I need Eddie, the detail man, in my life.
I piled all the paving stones and debris around the sides of the tub loosely so that I can keep playing with it, then I filled it with water and plugged in the pump! Voila - the Community Property Fountain. The sound of the splashing water is not quite loud enough to cover the sound of the neighbor’s air conditioners, but it’s getting there. I have noticed, incidently, that the noise level in New Orleans is much greater than it was a year ago. A dubious sign of progress, but a sign nonetheless. You can’t have a city without noise.
Just as I was getting finished, and was completely covered with dirt, sweat and scratches, up drives William Marshall and his beautiful girlfriend, Emery. I just happened to be wearing my Princeton t-shirt, and they are both Princeton graduates, so they didn’t notice that I looked like a lunatic.
William hasn’t seen the garden since its beginnings last fall, and he loved it. It’s turning into quite a collection of road-side flood souvenirs in addition to the wildly blooming plants. I’ve picked up windows removed from houses and thrown on the garbage heap, metal doo-dads and flower pots all over town. Now I’ve made a fountain out of someone’s entire frickin’ slab. When will it stop? Not any time soon, I’m going back over there for more junk after the exam.
gladly, the cross-eyed bear March 5, 2007
Don and I went to Bacchanal on Sunday night and picked up delicious food cooked by chef Pete Vasquez. We brought it back here where we accomplished the changing of the guard vis a vis the paying of the bills. Oy. It’s just my fucking turn and that’s all there is to it. Don and I are like two opposite sides of the same person. “You do it.” “No, you do it.”
We talked about the Jazz Fest, which he says is gigantic and exciting. He has a good feeling about it and he thinks there will be huge crowds. With the involvement of AEG, they are bringing in some very big and popular acts. Don is a New Orleans music kinda guy, so he always wishes there were more local acts. We were both big fans of the Thursday, and I wish they would bring it back. Thursday could be the big day for local musicians, school kids, etc.. The State Farm Good Neighbor Thursday Jazz Party, or something. I’m just coming up with this off the top of my head.
I’m telling all my out of town friends that they need to get their Jazz affairs in order because hotels are filling up and what not. Many more people are converging this year than in quite a while. Don thinks the festival is going to much bigger and much slicker this year, but, you know, I think that’s a good idea right now. New Orleans has a reputation right now for people screwing up one thing after another. It’s time for a reminder that we throw down an annual music festival that is world class.
Don and I both thought Mardi Gras had a very different feel to it this year than it did last year. He spent all of Mardi Gras day in the Quarter and he said he had never seen such a “wholesome” crowd. Leicester and I made a brief visit to Bourbon Street and we noticed it was tamer than usual. There were also very few Christian groups preaching to us happy sinners, none with megaphones. I never saw the guy who rolls his wheeled cross around on his shoulder. A friend of mine once remarked “that guy doesn’t seem to get the point of Jesus bearing the cross. If the cross had wheels, it wouldn’t be such a big deal to carry it.”
I’ve decided to visit Leicester in New York for Easter again. I had a great time with him and William last year. Any recommendations on what to see that weekend?
’cause there’s a man down there. might be your man, i don’t know. March 4, 2007
Yesterday a friend called me from Hawaii and said he wants to come to town for Jazz Fest and stay with me. He asked me to pull up the Festival line-up so he could decide which weekend to come. I didn’t realize the Allman Brothers were playing, they are performing on May 5. I used to listen to their songs all the time back in my formative years. We were all into that southern rock and roll back in the day. Ever since that phone call, their rendition of “One Way Out” has been stuck on the repeat button in my head.
the other woman November 10, 2006
David and Michael returned to Dangerblond Heights yesterday after an extended loan-out to Don. The Jazz and Heritage Foundation needed a wheelchair ramp. Having hired David to build it, they now have a brick shit-house of a wheelchair ramp that will be there long after their historic building on Rampart Street has crumbled to dust.
David brought me some Chocolate Tea that he ordered from somewhere in upstate New York. It’s supposed to cure everything that is wrong with me, and even things that aren’t. I start treatment today. Results will be blogged. On Monday, I learn the results of all my blood tests.
Unfortunately, a woman who works at the Foundation cornered David and got him to hire her boyfriend to help out on the wheelchair ramp. David didn’t really need the guy, but he did it because he can’t resist any request from a woman. The guy showed up with no gloves and no tools and David had to tell him everything, so he was the kind of “helper” who just slows you down. David thanked him and paid him, and the guy immediately started getting pushy trying to get David to hire him to “work” every day. David told him, “no.” After that, the woman started giving David the cold shoulder. It’s that phenomenon where you do a favor for someone and then you are stuck with them for life. No thanks. David didn’t want to tell Don about it, but I called him and told him. I think he should know that someone on his staff is arranging “work” for her useless boyfriend. If they’re not careful, girlfriend will be arranging for this guy to play drums with the Iguanas.
Don underwent his evaluation by the board of directors and passed with flying colors. It would have been very strange for them to find fault with the person who dragged the organization out of the fire after decades of financial mismanagement. Of course, they did complain that Don took too much of an interest in “board politics.” They were referring to 2004, when a few people decided to fire Quint Davis because he is too much of an egomaniac for them. If it hadn’t been for Don taking too much of an interest in their “politics,” this group could have taken over the Jazz Fest and promptly run it into the ground.
They were going to fire Quint’s company, Festival Productions, which has produced the Jazz Fest for over 35 years, and replace them with World Wide Entertainment. I immediately started calling this the World Wide Pants Conspiracy. World Wide Entertainment had buttered things up by telling them that they were going to produce the festival based on instructions they would receive in weekly conference calls with the board. Uh, yeah. It shouldn’t take Don Marshall to figure out how that’s not gonna work. Don indeed got involved in their “politics,” and they owe him a debt of gratitude that can never be repaid. So does Quint Davis and everyone on his staff, but Dangerblond is the only person who will tell you these things. I don’t work for them, and it’s well-known that Don can’t control anything I do or say.
Now that the Jazz Fest has money in the bank, Don is using it to produce music events at other times of the year, such as the recent Latin music festival downtown. He has hired Scott Aiges to put these events together. This is the Foundation’s contribution to the process of bringing our musicians and artists back home. He is also bringing old programs back to life, like paying closing costs and fees for musicians to buy homes. He is also attempting to restore to the Foundation the ownership of a very old, historic building in Treme, which they donated to another non-profit many years ago, and which is basically falling down. It’s really not the kind of project that any “for-profit” person would want to do, and I was baffled about it at first. “Why do you want to do this? It’s a huge pain in the ass.”
His reasoning is that the building is historically valuable, it’s a block from the French Quarter in the most endangered historic neighborhood in New Orleans, and he thinks it’s the Foundation’s responsibility to save this kind of cultural treasure. Especially since they once owned it and they precipitously gave it away. He wants to involve the Historic Preservation students at UNO, where he teaches, and architecture students from wherever, and non-profits that are already operating to preserve historic buildings. Believe me, he will do it, and it will be something they can all be very proud of.
Unlike his mother, Don never toots his own horn. He has a humility gene. Don approaches his work with complete integrity, and he’s stubborn enough to take on things that no one else would do and get them done. It helps that he’s not standing there waiting for someone to drop a bag of money in his hand before he lifts a finger. We have certainly had our fights about this disdain of his for filthy lucre. The Other Woman in my marriage was always New Orleans, this very needy 300-year-old Southern Belle that he’s loved all his life, constantly calling on Don to get her out of trouble, him unable to resist her beauty and her and need for rescue. How could Dangerblond ever compete with that?
e-mail gets response; blogger’s life now complete June 25, 2006
After I finished my post about the Cynthias, I wasn’t in the mood to re-craft my essay into an appeal suitable for the fragile egos of politicians. So, I just copy-pasted the whole angry post into an e-mail and sent it to the council members, including the Cynthias. Let the fur fly! Of course, I am familiar with what happens when you send a letter or e-mail to an elected official when they have done something you are critical of. I have received comically absurd responses to letters I have written to senators and congressmen over the years. I once wrote Jesse Helms begging him to retire and I got a form letter back thanking me for my support of his re-election. I have been warmly thanked for my support of the Right-to-Life movement, the impeachment of Bill Clinton and the National Rifle Association. They definitely have me mixed up with some other blond.
So, I sent my e-mail off into a black hole. I thought. This morning, on a Sunday, I got a response back from Councilwoman Stacy Head:
The issue is not dead. I, for one, am committed to filling that position. But as I learned in 11 years of litigation, there are times to push and times to give — but the goal has not changed. Now, a more well-prepared effort will succeed in getting the insp. Gen. Posit funded & filled.
Thank you for your passion abt improving our city. Stacy
Well, Holy Cannoli! The subject of this response is actually the same subject as my e-mail to her! And I don’t even live in her district! Head even comes out and says she is in favor of doing something that will benefit the citizens of this city. She’s working on a Sunday. Let me be the first to say it: Stacy Head is a responsive elected official who believes in reform. That doesn’t mean she can make it happen, but at least we don’t have to feel like we need to take a shower after shaking her hand.
Being dangerblond, I won’t hesitate to hammer on Stacy if she back-slides, but she will always hold a special place in my heart. I will vote for her if I ever get a chance. If I keel over and die this afternoon, though, I will die a happy woman. And I owe it all to Stacy Head.
UPDATE: Late Sunday evening, I received this response from Cynthia Hedge-Morrell:
Gentilly is alive and well. I represent a strong district of citizens concerned with rebuilding their homes, the city and education. MY FOCUS is rebuilding. Cynthia Hedge Morrell
Cynthia, thank you for your reponse, but it did not address the issue I am complaining about. That would be your lack of interest in an ethics board and an independent inspector general. We need some assurance that you are not actually spending your time rebuilding your power base at the expense of the citizens of New Orleans.
coffee with pops May 9, 2006
Don came over for coffee this morning and we had a nice re-hash of the Jazz Fest. He was very pleased with it, but understandably said he was feeling a little burnt out by Sunday night. It’s a very intense couple of weeks for all of them. Everyone over there is delighted because they made a ton of money. The FPI people are such pros that they put on a first-class festival even in the middle of all this mess without missing a beat. They thought of everything. The weather was almost as great as last year, and even the brief downpour was nothing more than a sun-shower.
Because the festival needed financial backing a couple of years ago and AEG thankfully came through, a large chunk of the money made goes out of the state. I hope they can see that they are backing a winner now and invest some of their considerable resources in this community. The income to the Foundation will allow them to devote more time and resources to the things they need to be doing now for these flooded-out musicians. WWOZ did great and they sold twice as many brass passes as usual. The Foundation gets almost nothing from the sale of the brass passes, but WWOZ gets half.
There has been a lot of publicity about the festival this year and how it almost didn’t happen. I’ve seen Quint taking an awful lot of credit, which he certainly deserves. Don prefers to sit in the back, but I kind of want to set the record straight about one thing, if anyone cares. From the first week of September on, Don Marshall, the Festival’s executive director, never intended to allow 2006 to go by without a New Orleans Jazz and Heritage Festival. It has never been my impression that the festival “almost didn’t go on.” Somehow, this became the publicity angle, but the only thing that was in any doubt was how big it would be. I guess it “almost didn’t go on” with Bruce Springsteen in it.
After the flood, and a few days of both of us being in complete shock, Don got on the phone from my son’s house in Lafayette and started trying to reach his staff. He was very worried about Lolette Boute, the only one he couldn’t find. Her daughter found her a week later in Houston. I posted my son’s phone number on the internet and people began to find Don. Quint was distraught because he had so many staff members he couldn’t find. David Oestreicher, the president of the board, and Don talked and decided that they were going to proceed as though there would be a festival, in New Orleans, unless it became impossible. They were all very touchy about announcing it to the press because, frankly, no one except Don wanted to do it unless they could be assured of making very big money. That’s why they call it “show business.”
I asked Don, “what if AEG pulls out? What if Quint pulls out?”
He said, “we HAVE to do it.”
He didn’t know if it would be at the Fairgrounds, or in April and May, but he knew what the stakes were and he was determined not to let New Orleans lose this gem. Churchill Downs totally came through, partly because the rest of their income was gone and partly because the guy loves Jazz Fest, and the momentum built. Finally, everything came into place and it started to look like a sure bet, so the announcement was made. Everyone got everything they wanted out of Jazz Fest this year and it was good for the city. Without the “heritage” part of the New Orleans Jazz and Heritage Festival, it’s all about professional sports and gambling in this town. What’s unique about that?
I told Don about my insane weekend and he just cruelly laughed at me, as he is wont to do. He said, “well, Jimmy Delery asked me if you were my daughter.”
“What! Do you think he is blind in one eye or something?” We were laughing, but Don’s vanity was hurt that someone asked if a 45-year old grandmother was his daughter. This made us laugh even more.
Don said, “I think he thinks you’re very attractive.”
“I think he thinks I’m 15 years younger than I am. No offense to Jimmy, but if anyone else thinks I’m very attractive, could you…”
“I’ll text-message you!”
mixed messages May 8, 2006
Jazz Fest second weekend impressions:
Chris Cressionnie with half of a globe on his head (the bottom half, turned upside down), dancing on a step-ladder to Frankie Ford, who he came especially to see. Frankie telling drunken lounge-lizard jokes, in the “good evening ladies and germs” tradition. Frankie performing his old hit 45s at 33 rpm speed. His suit was a shade of yellow that I have never seen before.
Bobby Lounge - Let ‘em lock me in Angola, if that’s the way it is; Take me back to Abita Springs; I want a ten-foot woman; singing about his morning boner. Except for the morning boner, Bobby Lounge, a native of Mississippi, sings about MY cultural heritage. His nurse, his majordomo, his voice amplified much better than last year and his crowd amplified as well. He was written up by Chris Rose, so that was cache enough right there to draw a crowd in the grandstand courtyard.
Don’s photography exhibit inside the grandstand, with very moving photos, mostly taken after Katrina but some very poignant “before” shots, like Syndey Byrd’s technicolor shot of Fats Domino sitting on his cadillac-finned sofa in his house on Caffin. Makes you think, “oh, my god, that couch is trashed.” And then the next thought, well, Fats Domino’s couch is the least of it! Funny spying Don’s smiling face in the crowd photographed with Ernie K-Doe’s statue on Mardi Gras.
Passing by the stage where Bonarama was playing and Steve spotting the other Marshall family and saying, “let’s move on.”
Lilette being comically slammed, and Jason going around with a terminator-like expression on his face. Avoiding my eyes because he didn’t want to tell us he couldn’t get us a table. Apparently there were a lot of reservations Friday night and the people didn’t show up, so they were unprepared for the absolute river of Jazz Festers who showed up very late on Saturday. The food kept coming, though, and we sat at the bar and ate and drank way too much. Steve had the pleasure of driving the Exploder, fearlessly, heedlessly slamming through potholes and dark neighborhoods with no Audi-angst.
Rachel compulsively text-messaging Steve all day long and then at 3:00 a.m., which made his phone buzz and vibrate on the table every 15 minutes until someone attended to it. I finally woke up and heard it a couple of times and thought someone was calling each time. I frantically woke him up thinking there must be some emergency for someone to call so many times at such an hour. Somewhere in between the buzzing, I dreamed a stern-faced woman was telling me I HAD to wear pants and checking to make sure that I had some to wear.
Feeling tired on Sunday and starting off the day on a wrong foot by getting into an argument with the arrogant guy making coconut palm hats. Getting more energized and relaxed watching the Wild Magnolias. The downpour before Irma Thomas. There was no festival-cancelling lightening or wind, so we all waited it out under umbrellas. Irma came out and sang It’s Raining and then put on a great, energetic and heart-felt show. She was introduced by Ed Bradley, who I love but he should not sing.
Paul Simon giving a very professional and pleasing show on the 20th anniversary of Graceland’s release. He played every bit as well as he always did, but I’m afraid the still vivid memory of the Springsteen performance made Paul, well, fall short in my estimation. It was very disappointing when Quint came out and announced that Fats Domino wasn’t playing. He has been through a lot and I’m glad he’s OK, but damn that would have been great to see Fats at the Fest this year.
A mutual friend who had been very warm and friendly to me last weekend virtually iced me when he saw that I was with Steve and was very unfriendly on Sunday as well. Another woman behaved very oddly and asked me if I was with Steve. She let me know that she knew all about Steve. This was a strange, aggressive exchange, but later she warmed up a little.
Steve seething on Saturday night at dinner and then finally exploding into a white-hot ball of anger at me on Sunday night at dinner. I’ve heard somewhere about these uncomfortable dinners. The experience turned dangerblond’s little spigot of hot and hot running affections right off. I like to make love not war. I brushed it off on Saturday night and we had fun on Sunday at the Fest, but on Sunday night when he lit into me again I quietly gave it right back to him. Not uncharacteristically, he packed up his things and left, making a dramatic exit. I feel like I have given it the old college try. I also feel like my head is raw from beating it against a stone wall. And let ‘em lock me up in Angola, if that’s the way it is.
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