Tonight on MyNetwork TV (formally UPN54 in New Orleans) you can watch the HD Documentary 'Going Back to New Orleans' at 8:00 PM EST. This movie tells the stories of various New Orleans musicians and their return to the city they love after Katrina from the point of view of Deacon John. Of course you might not want to wait and thanks to AOL (who owns Blogging New Orleans) you can watch the full documentary online on their True Stories site. Or you could just click through after the jump on this post. Unfortunately the video is in Windows Media Format so I and the rest of you Mac users can't see it, but we'll just wait till tonight.

via netscape.

What's going on here? Why am I posting so much? Today, in honor of Katrina I am attempting another 24 hour 24 post blogathon.

This is a continuation of the author's series on New Orleans lessons, to commemorate both her 10th anniversary of living in New Orleans as well as the 2nd anniversary of Hurricane Katrina.]

J is for Jasmine

Here's to the scent that aroused a musical revolution, waftting out from behind the ears and knees of the night-women. Was it this flower's perfume, so associated with dingy rooms where holy prostitutes made their living and where musicians birthed the sound called jazz, that inspired the name of this rebellious, heathen music? No one knows for sure.

But I can tell you true that in the deep spring of New Orleans, this flower releases her spicy-sweet smell to float across both courtyard gardens and junk-strewn streets. She'll grow in the most exclusive collections and cover rusty chain-link with her dainty white flowers and deep green leaves. Iin the summer, her sister takes over, with her evening blooms and her sticky-sweet fragrance scenting the humid night air. Her presence defines the decadence of this city, a land covered in flowers and perpetually drunk on the smell of sweet love-sweat and the dance of improvised music.

"Are you entertained by deep despair?" the singer asked, squinting at his music stand.

"You're our prophet!" the crowd shouted.

To the uninitiated, Daniel Johnston does not seem like a prophet. And he really doesn't seem like a indie rock hero. A large man with a belly that pushes his T-shirt out, stretching the neckline, Johnston is a manic depressive recluse. He's also a songwriting genius who's compiled over 20 albums during his bipolar career. His childlike singing wanders off-key at times. As he recites his rhymes, his tongue flicks in and out, and his arms shake with passion, fists clenched. If his lyrics weren't so smart, you might think him a little retarded.

But he's not retarded, just a little crazy and a lot lonely. Obsessed with unrequited love, Johnston hits a place in the heart where few dare to tread. "Hold me like a mother would, like I always knew somebody should," he sings, the melancholy before an upbeat chorus: "This is life/ And everything's all right/ Livin' livin' livin' livin' livin'." And who can dispute that "Love will wash your brain/ Hug you like a ghost/ It really is the most"?

Thanks in part to the 2006 biographical film The Devil and Daniel Johnston, he's gotten enough of a following to play at the House of Blues. After a solo set on both guitar and keyboard, he was then joined by local rockers Big Blue Marble. Before the show, he asked them to make a playlist of their favorite songs of his, and together they played "Casper," "Speeding Motorcycle," and "Love Not Dead." With five strings, including a lapsteel and a violin, along with piano and drums, Big Blue did both the gentle folky thing and the balls-out rocker thing with Johnston.

According to my sources, Johnston looked better than he had in quite some time, smiling occasionally and even coming out for an encore. The meds must be working. "True love will find you in the end," he sang before bidding us farewell.

The whole performance was a little over an hour, but what an hour it was. Afterward, we fans tried to hang out on the dance floor, basking in the post-rock vibe, but the ever-corporate HOB sent its minions to literally sweep us out into the night. And so goes life in America, where even a deep-down genuine weirdo can bust into the corporate music world by singing about Casper, the friendly ghost.

According to an article in the entertainment section (of all places) on nola.com, my source for all things New Orleanian, the owner of Snug Harbor, George Brumat has died. He was a young 63, and died of an apparent heart attack.

Brumat also was one of the former owners of perennial favorite beer joint Port of Call. I never had occasion to visit Port of Call, to my knowledge anyway, but I did get a chance last August to finally hit Snug Harbor. After years of wandering down Frenchman Street looking for interesting things to do outside of the French Quarter and looking in its windows my husband and I decided to finally take the plunge.

We ended up using the bathroom and then leaving after speaking with some very nice hostesses about the standing room only in the small performance area. I was pregnant at the time and not much for standing--or smoking, which is still allowed--so we ended up at The Spotted Cat, where the Jazz Vipers rocked (er, jazzed) my socks off.

Snug Harbor was a nice establishment, though, and hearing of Mr. Brumat's death makes me all the more wish I'd stayed that night to see what was what. Names like Charmaine Neville and various Maraslises always grazed the roster for the month, but never once did I give in to my curiosity and attend what is considered by some to be THE place to see jazz acts in New Orleans.

Mr. Brumat's passing only goes to show that you should just do whatever it is now or forget about it. Like the way things were before the Big K, that time will pass and it will be too late.

Mr. Brumat seemed to have made jazz appreciation--especially modern jazz--his life's work. The man had quite a few tricks up his sleeve to accomplish his goals, too. He made it possible for music students to get in for free so they could observe professionals in an appropriate setting for learning purposes. He reopened Snug Harbor as soon as he was able after Hurricane Katrina and took an economic loss just to give musicians a place to play and locals a place to go where they could forget about the chaos.

To me, that is more than dedication. It is the way of life for many folks in the Crescent City. You just don't find people like that anymore, and you generally don't find them outside of places like Nola.

Thus, Nola has lost another of her champions. As the comments on the article note, Mr. Brumat will be mourned and he will be missed. I hope his legacy--of kindness and care for building the culture and the morale around town--lives on through some other willing participant who will take over duties at Snug Harbor and keep it safe and sound until I get myself back down to New Orleans.

Any takers out there?

• Welcome
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• Thanks

This podcast is almost a 'betacast' and should be treated as such. We don't have theme music yet, but in the future we hope to have that and interviews with movers and shakers from around our fair city. If you would like to be interviewed on the podcast feel free to contact us via the tips page or the comments below.

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Blogging New Orleans's big sister Cinematical posted last week about a three city concert and a movie series that Netflix is doing around the country. Around the same time tipster Erik (from Netflix) pinged us about the show. Thursday June 21st at 7:00 pm CST in Riverfront Park at the Spanish Plaza (on the Mississippi River side of the Aquarium) Netflix is presenting the first of three free Summer concerts (the other two are in Baltimore, MD and at the Kennedy Space Center in Florida) as part of their Live! On Location tour. Dennis Quaid and the Sharks will start the night. Then the crowd will watch Quaid starring in 'The Big Easy' with a Southernized cajun accent. Luckily we will see the movie and not that strange USA network TV show. Should be interesting to see if another star of the film (and local resident) John Goodman makes an appearance. The best part about all this... This is a nationally promoted event that shows we are still in the hearts and minds of the rest of the country and even major companies are willing to help relieve some of the city's recovery stress with a night out on the river. Thanks Netflix.

edit: deleted the unneeded end phrase and half thought...

Although it's true that most of us in New Orleans are fairly provincial, you wouldn't have guessed it standing outside Tipitina's Wednesday night. A decidedly international crowd had gathered to see Manu Chao, world music avatar extraordinaire, on a rare visit to the Big Easy. (Although rumor said that it was his first American tour, I also heard that he'd played in Denver last summer.) My friend Tamara, filled with music lust, got there early and reports that all twenty or so diehards at the door were chattering away in Spanish while she, the lone English speaker, looked on.

By the time I got there, more Americans were on the scene, but Spanish phrases floated through the mild evening air. The will-call ticket line snaked halfway around the building, and several music fans clamored for a spare ticket, as the show had sold out 10 am that morning. One guy drove nine hours from Florida to see the show, but without a ticket, he was stuck outside. (When asked why he didn't purchase a ticket before driving for nine hours, he replied, "every time I plan ahead, it bites me in the a@@.")

There's nothing quite like being part of a sold-out crowd at Tip's, pressed together in a sweaty mass under the benevolent face of Professor Longhair. As the opening DJs played, Manu Chao peeked out from backstage, wielding a video camera. The room filled with anticipation, made palpable as a cloud. When backup band Radio Bemba Sound System finally emerged - shirtless! - you could practically feel the air sparking.

After a tantalizing intro, Manu Chao swaggered onto stage, decked out in a workman's shirt and a reggae cap. Not only did he play tunes from his upcoming album, Rainin In Paradise, but he touched on a bunch of hits from his famous Clandestino, a musical collage of beats and languages from the world over, and even a couple of songs from his Manu Negra days. Instead of playing the crowd's favorites straight off the album, he slowed them down, reggae style, then amped the melody with punk-rock guitar. All in Spanish, with the exception of the English lyrics of "Bongo Bong." This track, which had originally hypnotized me into fandom, he played as a punk-rock chant: Mama was queen of the mambo/ Papa was king of the congo/ Deep down in the jungle I start banging off his bongo/ Every monkey like to be/In my place instead of me/Cuz I'm the king of bongo, baby, I'm the king of bongo bong.

I hadn't expected to get caught up in a moshpit, but sure enough, there we were, all of us shoving each other, lifting a few brave souls above our heads. I ran into some of the Zydepunks there, and also caught DJ Davis slamming into his neighbors. Some fun!

In the end, I think the show was just a tease for the 1 am after party at Dragon's Den, which I didn't have the fortune to attend. Drenched, drunk, and happy, I went home instead, to try and acclimate myself back to American life.

Nearly two years after Katrina and Louis Armstrong Park remains closed indefinitely. The park houses Congo Square, a great open space where slaves were allowed to gather together on Sundays and play music from the 18th century until more than a decade before the Civil War. In addition to sharing music and dance, I'd imagine that the weekly gatherings provided people a chance to share news and catch up with family from around the city. The great musical heritage of New Orleans owes a lot to Congo Square and the public performance of African rhythms.

The 10th annual Freret Street Festival begins tomorrow at 11 am at the intersection of Freret St. and Napoleon Ave. Musical acts this year include Trombone Shorty, Hot 8 Brass Band. Morning 40 Federation and Washboard Chaz. There will be the usual collection of food vendors -- it wouldn't be a festival without them. I don't know whether or not Dunbar's will be there this year but I sure do miss their old place.

In addition to free music and entertainment, there is another purpose to the festival and that is home ownership. There will be seminars throughout the day about buying a home as well as information available throughout the festival presented by Neighborhood Housing Services of New Orleans (NHS). NHS offers programs year round to help potential homeowners make their way through financial hurdles including classes on cleaning up credit and no-interest loans for down payments and closing costs.

During a sudden stroke of genius a couple of months ago, I announced to The Husband that for my birthday I wanted to see a taping of Crescent City. Crescent City is a four year old radio show played on WWNO and produced by Fred Kasten. Tuesday night not only marked its fortieth show but also Kasten's retirement from WWNO so it was a great night to head down to Le Chat Noir and view the production.

Crescent City features Ronnie Virgets as host, house band Astral Project , and the Live Nude Radio Players. There are often local musical acts thrown into the mix as well. The highlight for me was to finally see the Live Nude Radio players, a three person troop acting out timely skits with pointed criticism and laud for all things New Orleans. The biggest personality there is Becky Allen and I loved seeing her live for a second time. I could listen to her laugh all night.

Crescent City starts up again in the fall for another successful season. I look forward to many more evenings with the local show pouring out of my radio. I hope to see them live again as well. Tuesday's show will air on WWNO May 27th at 8:00 pm. This should be required listening for all New Orleanians.

• Welcome
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• Thanks

This podcast is almost a 'betacast' and should be treated as such. We don't have theme music yet, but in the future we hope to have that and interviews with movers and shakers from around our fair city. If you would like to be interviewed on the podcast feel free to contact us via the tips page or the comments below.

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[Terra Nola documents the long-distance love affair between a New Yorker and New Orleans.]

Yes, you read that correctly--the famous Neville Brothers will be performing live June 14th, the opening night of summer fest at Prospect Park's Bandshell, located in my home borough of Brooklyn, New York. The concert marks the start of the annual Celebrate Brooklyn series of events.

Perhaps this is coincidence and nothing more, but to me it's a simple twist of fate--or perhaps karma--that while I missed out on all the fun at this year's Jazz Fest due to the arrival of my bouncing baby boy, I now have the opportunity to see what may be one of the top acts to ever come out of New Orleans. Sweet!

Oh--did I mention it's FREE???

Ok, ok. I know many folks have a bee in their proverbial bonnets over the ongoing 'thing' between the Neville Brothers not performing at Jazz Fest since Hurricane Katrina, but I am still excited to see this act in my hometown. (According to my sources, the Neville Brothers didn't play last year due to Aaron's asthma and this year because, as Art Neville said, "...it's got to be right.")

• Welcome
• Guymon Adams
• Austin, TX
• Revere Radio
• Dead City Chronicles
• God's Little Toy
• Dance of Deceit by Guymon Adams on Dead Flowers in Heart Shaped Boxes (iTunes)
  on Medivak Records
  
• west Texas music influence
• musical influences
• outsider's perspective
• understanding Katrina
• community struggle
• expatriate New Orleanians
• outsiders questions and curiousity
• Why We Came Back
• Thanks to Guymon and Adam

This podcast is almost a 'betacast' and should be treated as such. We don't have theme music yet, but in the future we hope to have that and interviews with movers and shakers from around our fair city. If you would like to be interviewed on the podcast feel free to contact us via the tips page or the comments below.

EDIT: FYI, the music in this podcast is copyrighted and owned by its creator, Guymon Adams. If you like please purchase some for yourself.

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