Jazz Fest is a state of mind induced by a potent combination of heat stroke, an overabundance of fantastic music, and food unlike any other in this land. The Passover song “Dayeinu” comes to mind—“it would have been enough….” “If God had brought us to the Fair Grounds and given us access for one day all day long to twelve stages of music for the ridiculously low admission price of $50, it would have been enough. But Jazz Fest runs for four days each weekend over two weekends. And in between, everybody is playing the clubs in dazzling ensembles that submerge individual egos to sublime music.
If God had simply brought us directly to the gospel tent to hear Aaron Neville singing “Ave Maria,” causing one to consider immediate conversion to Catholicism, it would have been enough. But we got to see Aaron Neville up close at the House of Blues, the crooning crowd encouraging him to “Tell It Like It Is…”
If God had set before us just one row of Cajun/Creole food vendors who had competed to sell their best dish for a handful of singles, it would have been enough. But no, there were at least three different versions of jambalaya and the po’boys ranged from oyster to soft-shell crab to Cajun duck across four major food vending areas.
At the Acura stage, people sat in the broiling sun in a sea of humanity, patiently waiting to hear top acts, including Bonnie Raitt (a lover of New Orleans musicians and their families, much beloved by Jazz Fest fans), Neil Young, and Bon Jovi (I did not need to come to Jazz Fest to hear Bon Jovi). Broiling is also required to hear the kings and queens of New Orleans music, like Dr. John, Buckwheat Zydeco, Allen Toussaint, Marcia Ball, and of course, the Neville Brothers who close out the Fest.
At Gentilly, the second major stage, a sliver of shade hugged the outer wall. And we hugged the sliver, gratefully clutching our whirling spritzer fans. Just when you think you are about to join that big Satchmo in the sky, a whirling spritz brings your body temp back down. The crimson hue of my face has been known to frighten people under these conditions.
I waited to see Tony Bennett with a patronizing attitude, as if I were doing him a favor. He dashed onstage in a light yellow suit and sang delightfully for over an hour in full voice and vigor. He is 82 years old and the organizers were thrilled to have him at Jazz Fest for the first time.
“The Shadow of Your Smile” was like a madeleine, plummeting me back to my childhood. The mellifluous tune evoked the muted beige tones of my parents’ living room, the safety of the sun porch where I whirled like a little princess. Tony Bennett also whirled when he ran out for an encore—quite impressive given the heat.
If Tony Bennett was the personification of cool jazz, New Orleans native John Boutté poured out his passion in Katrina-inflected songs like “Good Neighbor.” He fleshed out the sacrosanct “City of New Orleans,” making it fully gorgeous, beyond melancholy. It is not easy to rival Paul Simon singing “American Tune,” but Boutté had the guts and chops to do it justice. He was the hands-down best find of the fest for me. The diabolical co-scheduling of top-rate performers required accepting that I would miss my last fest’s great find---Irvin Mayfield and the New Orleans Jazz Orchestra. It is really hard to leave the Jazz Tent—excellence simply abounds there.
But it’s important to catch the smaller stages like the New Orleans Fais Do-Do Stage (Cajun Music), the Lagniappe Stage (a little bit of everything Louisiana), and Congo Square for African-inflected rhythms, food, and wares. There we gave Julian Marley a chance and had to concede that he is simply no Bob.
The 40th Anniversary of the New Orleans Jazz and Heritage Festival provided an opportunity to celebrate the tenacious, pugnacious spirit of the most unique city in the United States, still an under-appreciated treasure in this jaded land of ours. GO and support the city. You’ll be very glad you did.
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