Ok 2 weeks have gone by and the gloss, glow and the flash-in-the-pants romance have dithered away, I’m beginning pull back your skin Nola and to see the flesh beneath. Somehow I don’t think I’ll have time to make it to the bone and see the real heart of you... yet. My list has now been ticked off more than new things being added, but I am still running into interesting people who wryly find me something to add to what has become a great list (I may publish it at the end of this trip)
After a great night at Deacon John’s, I go out Sunday to Maple Leaf Bar again, consistently great music. Catch Cha Wa Band, a great fusion of New Orleans street funk, second line, and homage to Mardi Gras Indian Culture. Cha Wa means “We’re coming for ya!”, and that they do, such a great fusion of funky greatness! danced all night! These guys are tight! great mix of grooves, marching vibes, call and answer vocals and a killer show! It made me think about the music I want to create & the style of live show, if music is nothing else - telling your story, empathising with the audience, & creating a great positive vibe in people, to lighten their hearts, & to move them closer to just this moment, not erasing the rest of their world but giving them perspective on what it is to be right here. |
Monday I try to get up earlier, even after a 2am finish at Cha Wa, walk the French Quarter, parts I haven’t been to, see The House of Blues, catch a couple of musos out on the back stage. The restaurant is pretty full even in the day. Gradually make my way down Decatur St, it’s become familiar ol’ friend and I know her family and occupants, I feel more at home now, don’t need carry a backpack or look at my phone for direction, I’m heading straight to the Dragon’s Den for the Lucky dip jam on monday arvo’s and there is a swing dance lesson upstairs. Bud and Suzan are surprised I am lugging a bass around, but happily encourage me to plug it into the PA to join the mostly acoustic blues/jazz/bluegrass jam. It’s fun, running adlib off iphone charts for songs, watching hands, making mistakes. They are a fun crew and encourage me to come any monday. I leave my bass with them, and duck upstairs to the swing lesson. It’s a bit basic, but New Orleans swing is a totally different beast, and I begin to pick up a few subtleties… great to start from the basics. I met Casey and Alli who are down from Boston. After a fresh lesson I ask them to come to The Spotted Cat on Tues. Bud drops my bass up, as they finished. |
It’s monday so that means D-Macs Blues jam, I intend heading there straight after Dragon’s, but walk up Frenchmens and contemplate an Uber, but as I walk passed Apple Barrell/Adolfos, a solo bluesy guy is laying down some slide, I duck in the door as I always do now, lean on the rail, he’s fun and his style is right up my alley. He finishes a song, I clap, without even thinking about it he asks if I want to jam (I have the bass over my shoulder), “Alright! let’s do this.” and as I agree a sax player walks in the door and was liking it too, he joins us. I quickly set up my bass and plug staight into the PA precariously leaning on top of the upright piano stuffed against the wall in the entrance. Next thing we are jamming away on a bluesy gospel number, and another tune, sax joins in. It’s a happy little collaboration out of the blue, after a couple of numbers I say I have to go to another jam, Sam Cammarata exchanges emails, and I have to rush off.
Uber it to D-Macs, all the likely suspects have rolled up. I promised Profit I would be there for a funky jam. Get a few nods from musos who I met last week, and carry my bass in, nod to the house bassplayer and Danny who run the joint. Another good night of blues, lots of similar faces, doing lots of similar things. It’s interesting to see that blues jams and human nature don’t change much all over the world. I hang around, say hello to Crystal, fist bump a few other musos (still an incredibly American thing for me, but hey when in Rome) the jam rolls on, song after song, house band this time with lots of different singers, with specific songs, & it seems this week, they aren’t taking chances on fresh players. |
1 hour goes by, 2 hours go by, 3rd hour another whole band gets up, they look like an established white-y band, they definitely don’t want fresh players up in their business… Profit and another Jamaican guy who I’ve been chatting with want to do something funkier, as these white guys are playing really straight, white rock blues… yeesh, it’s the same over here ha ha! they play endless songs, sometimes not even blues, with 5min solos… eventually I tire of the charade of it all. Profit finally gets a run as a drummer, but it seems I am gonna have to wait ’til the end of time. I’ve had a couple of PBRs (Pabst cheap beer) and finally give up. Jam’s here are the same as Australia. Pack my stuff walk out the door, zap an Uber an decide I should have stayed jamming with Sam at Apple Barrell, and there’s always swing dancing at The Spotted Cat. While I am waiting a dude sticks his head out of the door, “ I think they need a bass player” too little, too late, I am waiting on the Uber, and have classic Tim stubborn-head on. When it’s classed as a JAM, and people just play it safe all night, then get entire bands up to just run some of their songs, I cease to submit, no matter where and who. I just don’t understand why people have to be so false and insecure about their playing. Everyone there are great players, can’t you just trust on a monday night that you can explore music with some other great exotic players that you wouldn’t normally play with… JAM pfffft!
I arrive back at the Spotted Cat, and low and behold Casey and Alli are there anyway, and I forget my blues, and enjoy a couple of great swing dances with a couple of babe roller derby Boston gals. Later in the night there are a lot of non-dancers, and tourists, but hell everyone wants to dance right. Clumsy, spirited spins are the rites of the night, this town is damn fun somewhere, everynight, and my mood levitates to Nola’s below sea level. I crable past Adolfo’s/Apple Barrell and there is a blues funky band with a packed house, my bluesy Jamaican friend is bopping in the crowd, I drop in. |
They are a bit raw, but funky, the drummer seems lost some of the time, and knowing this place because he just joined the band yesterday… but the crowd is into it. I dance a bit and my Jamaican friend is quite sloshed by now so does some impromptu singing with the band, they love it! then he sings happy birthday to somebody in the crowd who he met. 3am home, streetcars of desire, it’s almost a requirement now, that last night breeze, through all open windows... |
When it’s running after you, somtimes you just have to submit and rest. Do some admin, and emailing, after a late start, just sloth around at home, but decide, whilst here you gotta soak it up, so I head out for no particular reason. Finally do the streetcar roundabout at Lee Circle at the perfect time, and that humid arvo Nola dishes up a spectacular misty gradi-ation of a sunset. I listen to the city and find some gold. Stroll to few of my locales and end up at The Spotted Cat for a dance. This is Casey’s last night, so we dance a few times, she thanks me for the dances, as I think she is feeling self-conscious after some of the other more established local leads are very busy fighting over the established local dance follows. I tell her, "dancing is just life and fun", isn’t that how it’s supposed to be. |
The nights are starting to blur into one, I need some fresh take on it, I know where I am, and found the vibe, have walked around and across town to the street cars 11 nights in a row after midnight, in the town where 300+ people get murdered each year. It sounds startling to an Aussie, but the place feels no more dangerous than a night at Kings Cross. Sure you have to keep your wits reasonably about you, and solo, you have to listen to your intuition sometimes and not walk down thAt alleyway shortcut, or just Uber it from here to there. If you listen to your inner animal, it chats always with Nola who wants to guide you to the sweaty sexy light that blurs the darkness out. There ARE some crazies wandering the streets, but in this place there sure are a lot more obvious and easier targets than me (some people are just so unaware). 2.30am home
Wednesday I get up earlier, decide to do a more DAY ha ha... catch some houses and normal people on the way in. the St Charles line, has trees & street signs filled with bead strings hanging down, thrown out at Mardi Gras (Feb), decrepit happiness jiggling in the wind to no-ones concern. It reminds me of Byron Bay, where the once wrecked, reckless moments silently fill the rest of the year, under the disparaging eyes of the locals. There’s an old school grandeur, that Nola stands dignifidely broken and rebuilt, but still looks right into you, and demands respect. She is OG, the original, never to be tamed or topped. |
I get to Bambula’s where there is s’pose to be a swing lesson drop in, but there is nobody there but the cool band playin’ that Nola Jazz and a couple of bar flys. Django Reinhardt inspired guitar jazz, prob a tad fast for my swing dance style, but perfectly on the levee of New Orleans pace of life. I order a couple of Tacos & a PBR. There is one younger gal sitting at the end of the bar in black, but I assume she’s a bar chick on her break. One taco later in walks one of the swing dudes I’ve seen at The Cat, he chats with her, and I figure she’s the teacher. We chat, it’s past time, but she says she’s doing lessons at Dance Space near Magazine St, but she’s almost late for it, luckily 6.30pm solo jazz, then Lindy Hop at 7.30pm. I’m might come for Lindy. She says “sure” like that’ll happen. Whilst finishing my Tacos look up the place. It’s right off the street car line, so add my tip (which I’m starting to get the gist of unconciously calculating approx right $$ amount now), and head off. Class is fun, I get the basics of Nola Lindy Hop with Giselle and a small class, which is basically less steps for faster music.
I thought they were all partners, but none of them were, but I meet Ron at the end of the class with Giselle & one of the others, a chat about my list, and Ron says he’s going to Rock n’ Bowl right now after the class and doesn’t mind giving me a lift, once Giselle explains I’m from Australia (it’s a good ‘passport' to have). Now Rock n’ Bowl has been described to me as a bowling alley that does bands… “BUT it’s not what you think!” everyone has said… it’s been mentioned and starred** by a few dancers so, like yeah, it has to be done right? |
Now those people weren’t kidding, the place is huge, and Ron fills me in, that it moved from down the road after the floods, and was created by John who he introduces me too. John’s a bit of a dancer, loves music, but wanted a place where all kinds of people and families could come for a great night out! he wasn’t wrong!…
There is 20+ bowling lanes, big bistro, huge picnic style table area behind each lane, gigantic centre bar, massive stage for the bands, and a dancefloor that would put any RSL Auditorium to shame, in fact the entire place’s floor everywhere is proper wooden dance floor. Simply glorious unlike any venue I have ever seen. The night we are there it’s a bit rock n roll/rockabilly, so not exactly my dance style, but there are plenty of dancers and it’s a total mixture of crowd, some oldies dancing, and eating, a young uni kids function doing bowling and food platters, middle aged people just at the bar or eating. Some of the youngies eventually after a few drinks get on the dancefloor too. The dance partners thin out, so I convince Ron to go into town to Spotted Cat for some real swing, his arm is easily twisted.
Spotted Cat on Frenchmens st is a standard if you want guaranteed swing dance music. But via the shoes spied, it’s all tourists tonight, not many dancers. Still another great band. Ron eventually has to go (we stay in contact and he has sms'd me details for some other events), but I am in my usual late night mode and not quite ready to go yet. I walk outside, after midnight, still sticky hot, every place is air-conditioning the hell, scooped back into Nolas wonderful warm arms, I am poised mentally, the street still bustles. |
Damn! there’s a Pedicab sitting right outside The ‘Cat, I never use them, I’d rather save the money and Shank’s pony-it wherever… Look at my list, what haven’t I done yet? my eyes dart back to her, this Pedicabber just has something, normally they are sweaty jocky guys dishevelled and busting their hump in Nola’s hellish bake-ery…I walk to cross the street, but haven’t really found anything yet, Nola whispers to me, by just raising her eyebrows, no words. I lean on the back of the Pedicab, “So you look like the sort of person who can add something to my list or point me in the right direction at least”, she smiles all-business-like (I try to not roll my eyes), but she looks at my list… then scrolls down, “that’s a great list!” then I smile all-business-like. She adds “Preservation Hall” to my list and is surprised it’s not on there already considering the calibre of my list.
Her name is Tomahawk, and asks me how I got the list… I say I just talked to people in the first 3-4 days, and have been steadily adding to it. She smiles, my inner Seinfeld says “is there something going on.. hEre” ha ha then my bRAin goes “she’s a GOD DAMN peddicabber, of course she’s being friEndly…!” but we chat for a moment about destinations, swing dance and music, and what we do in our other lives, and she says there is a Burlesque night up the road at One Eyed Jacks… that place IS on my list, and she does SEEM so very nice. I agree, and off we go, chatting all the way about life and what we do, it’s amazing what can be communicated in the space of 14 languid blocks. The T’hawk works in production & burlesque, and all sort of cool creative projects, we are remarkably similar. |
Tomahawk escorts me in the door, she knows all the staff and the performers, and to my surprise a familiar face, Fritz the security from Snake & Jakes works here as well, we greet with a known gusto. There is just foyer shows in the front bar tonight, just in time for the last act, and DJs after…normally retro. The act is a good show, equal parts sexy, titilating and funny, like all good burlesque should be. But nothing compared to the fireworks afterwards, the performer had interacted with various crowd members in the show, and one guy basically got a lap dance, but in a funny way. As the performers on a wednesday rely on tips to bolster their paycheck, as per usual with all performers in New Orleans the bucket goes around at the end, we all drop some notes into it… |
but the guy who got the lap dance is a low tipper, esp considering he got the best part of the show. He’s pressed for a more generous donation. He stands words are exchanged, then he gets the biggest face slap laid on him I’ve ever witnessed in public. For me at least, this takes the show from a B to an A+. Tomahawk has hung around as it’s the last show, she introduces me to a few key people, and we sit on the stoop across the laneway with one of her friends (who runs a Self-sustainability growers business) as they have a smoke. T'Hawk also explains that during the show the slapped-dude had slapped her ass in the show (which I didn’t see), payback I guess ha ha. |
She gives me a short Pedicab ride around to Canal St where the street cars roll in, and as I get off invites me to a burlesque-y/ theatre-y gig that she is doing on Friday… we swap details, inner Seinfeld relax… rattle home on a street car 2.30am... Thur lunch, body and brain finally give in… Nola’s sweet whisperings tell me I’m not ready for it today, I just stay in bed. 12 days of non-stop fun, action and excitement, not one day home before midnight… I really need to get some sleep. I finally have a holiday day, and do nothing. Check Facebook, do an email, go back to bed. It storms, big thunder, moderate rain… then it goes away. |
I decide to just rest. Late arvo I go down 4 blocks to the local mexican place and order breakfast, lunch and dinner all in one go, 2 tamales, chicken enchiladas, sauce sides, crunchy dipping corn chips, Llevar por favor! drop back home pick 2 movies out of Taylor’s collection and proceed to lie in bed, eat and watch movies, and don’t feel guilty at all. It’s cloudy and rains a little more. |
I just have a relaxing start to Friday, start checking for 2nd hand cars, it’s not looking good. The online reviews of some places confirm your worst nightmares about shonky 2nd-hand car dealers, and the process to get it registered through the DMV for a non-local are pretty horrendous. Taylor suggests hiring from Avis as they are the cheapest. I check it, they are pretty competitive, and if stay a bit longer in New Orleans, the hire works out to be about what I would spend, but for a brand new car, with no break down worries, hmmmm… food for thought
Enough thinking, New Orleans is for DOING! I head out intend to go to a swing dance lesson, but end up a bit late, so walk the FQuarter check the vibes, and get some food, a crawfish Po’ boy that comes with a side of seafood bits and chips, and sitting at the bar more sauces that you can poke a stick at placed on the bar in front of you! There’s just a great culture of being able to sit just about anywhere, and get some food and a drink, multitudes of small bars, cocktail/daquiri places, I finally cross the infamous Burbon St again, & decide to walk it a block or two. |
It’s a crass, armpit of a place on Friday and Saturday night, the multitudes of non locals slubbing up and down it’s being-re-done-construction-pit of a strip. Neon signs, loud bars, the average covers-y bands, cheap touristy T-shirt shops, it’s like The Gold Coast at Schoolies time, but every weekend... I’m glad I have something else to go to, and head to the Burlesque/Girls night music gig in the large room @ One Eyed Jacks. Sea Battle (Tomahawks band), MC Sweet Tea & the Tastee Hotz, and Delish da Goddess. Just what I needed a fresh take on Nola for me, all gal lead bands Sonics, Hip Hop, MC, Gangsta. If that sounds like you, you should definitely look these artists up. |
One Eyed Jacks theatre room proves to be a formidable venue, reminds me of the old Gaelic Club in its heyday, prob about 400 size, with a mezzanine level, and stepped up main floor, proscenium arch style theatre, haunted I’m told. It’s refreshing to see acts in a space with a decent PA not just the size of it, but the frequency spectrum of it. Sea Battle run through sonically edged, theatrics, back-up goddesses, songs about mermaids, aliens, freaky music, female rapping, costume changes. MC Hot Tee steps up the MCing and also has backup dancers, and adds a circusy act, loop tissue act hanging from the rigging. The headliner Delish the Goddess throws down a massive set of gangsta-ess, the production quality of the music pushing the sound system to its limit, the bass is so low and punchy and strong that it lifted me onto my feet… bassplayer heaven. A sound system that surely went down to at least 60htz maybe even 40… (for you tech heads) the walls shook, the crowd bounced, and it was a great night. Something completely different from Nola than the usual lightly-fared jazz acoustica. I run into Tomahawk on the dance floor in the last set, I love acts that dance in other bands sets! she seems glad that I came to the gig, and alone no less. “Stick with me” she intimates, we get backstage at one stage, and later introduces me to some of the other band members, the owner of the bar, and the owner of Preservation Hall… Great meet ups :) I’m so glad I came.
Eventually we spill out onto the street, and it’s gonna be another really late night… ha ha but what else is Nola for. I end up at a karaoke bar with Tomahawk later, and we eventually get food at a great 24hour bar that I hadn’t found yet Deja Vu (noted for later late night food adventures), doorman is cool, get a Chicken Andouille Gumbo, and T’hawk get the Seafood Gumbo and some grits. Tomahawk gets an Uber home, and I stroll down to Canal St, it’s nearly dawn, a soft glow is appearing on the horizon, on the trip home, workers are getting on, and the dishevelled of us look out.. ha ha Crazy amazing times, and connections, just what I came here for. Lists and chats are the best! |
Sunday I’m feeling so contented, but its maintenance time, I finally have to do some laundry, so out of non-smelly clothes, start this blog in Babylon cafe/laundromat, do your washing and you get free drip or iced coffee… my kinda place. I do some emailing, then get home and finish a few things from another project, old invoice that I forgot to send, connect a couple of friends for another project, digital nomad… I could handle this… onto the blog, here I am finishing this, get a take-away Spinach/Artichoke Dip with breads, and a veggo calzone from Mellow Mushroom down on Oak St. Finish blog, do vLog edit… missed a swing thing tonight, but I think I;m ok with it, video to you all :) ENJOY!